the marks of a slave

Albee said:

Eastern Sun.

Why so little sex talk on this thread?

You are so fucking hot...

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Because maybe sometimes BDSM can be about a hell of a lot more than sex?

CutieMouse said:

Because maybe sometimes BDSM can be about a hell of a lot more than sex?

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I don't disagree with you.

But just look at her...

Listen to her words...

sex talk

there’s a woman waiting to be born
standing blindfolded and naked in the corridor
she walks unsteadily with your bar at her ankles
hoping you won’t let go of her as she passes
doors on either side that open into innocence
childhood dreams

her lips are painted red with a name that is etched
in her mind like a subconscious itch
and each step that she takes brings it closer
to the surface of her body smooth as a baby
but ripe and full with a woman’s wet desire
with each door she passes, you tighten your hold
on the wrist between your fingers where her pulse
quickens and beats like a moth at the flame
her desire has stoked with the kindling
she collected as a kid

bound in leather straps her feet begin to buckle
as the bar at her ankles threatens her balance
she must stay poised on the points of her ego
and her stilettos stab the floor as she focusses her mind
on the sounds and promise of your voice
she never sees the key to your room hidden
in the folds of your language like a prize
but she feels you let go of her wrist at the threshold
and she stumbles as the space grows empty and wide
"find me" you whisper as you disappear

she curls her colored nails into a tiny fist
and drops her useless eyes to hear the echo of her heartbeat
bounce off the door you have closed behind you
there in the darkness without your guidance or your blessing
she knocks and waits and waits to hear the silence that follows
as her heartbeat is absorbed by your body
and her birth is accompanied like all the others
with the sound of the hand that draws life into her breath
and the pain of Eve’s transgression as she left her innocence
to blossom in the garden

while she becomes a woman
with the knowledge of her self
and a man

CutieMouse said:

Because maybe sometimes BDSM can be about a hell of a lot more than sex?

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He read this and said, "It's all about sex. It's an erotic life."

It may be all about sex. But knowing when to play and when not to is one of the first lessons I learned.

Wolfspet said:

This sounds very like where I am right now. I am used to my owner and myself walking in step. We are remarkably well-suited to each other; sometimes it seems like there's telepathy happening. People ask us if we're twins, even though we don't look very similar.

Right now we are in very different places. I am owned. I can choose to be unhappy and in conflict with her, I can choose to lose my self and alter myself for her, or I can surrender and live moment to moment and see what happens.

The first is displeasing to her and stressful to me. The second is usually my solution, but I've begun to feel that I'm doing myself a disservice if I keep making myself just go with whatever she wants. (You see, we're hung on an issue that's very important to me right now.)

So I chose to surrender. I don't know how to say it, but it's different from altering myself to match her wishes. It feels more like waiting. And it's terribly lonely. I'm so lonely.

But it is wonderful in its own way too, just to accept.

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I think I understand that loneliness, Wolfspet. Letting go of your agenda, your plans, your desired results leaves you standing very naked in the center of . . . what? The truth? You'll only find out if you're there. Tender and vulnerable.

Just don't get too attached to the "waiting."

If you can use the time productively, creatively. If you can make friends with yourself. Become involved in a community of some kind. Then both your outer and inner worlds begin opening up their secrets to you.

And that can be a lot of fun.

P.S. I totally identify with the feeling of being owned, whether the owner claims you or not.

I was afraid recently of marks where my wife choked me with my belt. Be hard to explain. People would probably think I tried to committ suicide! My wife got into choking me. Shes such a good wife! lol

Yeah she double wrapped the belt around my neck and grabbed each end in each hand...And pulled my face to her pussy. While she was cumming she almost choked me out...but damn I was hard!

Thanks for sharing your experiences here pussy_liquor and welcome to Lit.

With respect, I think you've missed what the focus of this thread is supposed to be about. In her first post when she started this thread, here is what easternsun wrote.

easternsun said:

There are the obvious marks - the signs and symbols, the physical footprints of untold activities. But I want a place to speak of the subtle moments, the small mundane events that reinforce my position.

Like the choosing of a seat in a restaurant. Since he always chooses his seat first, I rarely have a view of the people at the other tables, the layout of the building. Occasionally I face the kitchen, the bathroom, almost always a wall. And always him. I watch him watch the room. I focus on his face. His conversation. And must turn in my chair to catch the waiter's eye when his drink is empty or it's time for the check.

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So in this context, 'the marks of a slave' are the psychological footprints left by a lifetime of servitude and submission.

You'll learn as you go that things aren't always what they seem around here. It helps to read back a few posts or check back to the beginning of a thread in order to see what the purpose of it was when the OP started it.

Eastern Sun, I am truly in awe of you. For those who think that handing control of your whole life over to some one else and becoming a slave shows weakness or a lacking in self this thread should be mandatory reading. You have shown such courage and inner strength in allowing us this glimpse into the window of your life. Thank you for this rare and wonderful opportunity. Redslady

I was on holiday over the holidays. Two weeks with my children in a remote corner of the world.

Since he had to work, he wasn't with us.

It was on the plane home, in about the fourth hour of an eleven-hour flight, that I felt his presence again. In such unfamiliar surroundings, I hadn't even realized how different I felt, until wrapped in that red fleece blanket in a hushed, darkened plane, I knew my life would change dramatically once I passed through customs.

It excited me to think of seeing him again. My body responded. I wanted to touch myself, and hoped to get away with it, but the plane was crowded, and I finally headed off to the lavatory, only to wait for what seemed like forever.

It didn't really matter how long I waited. I was on his time again.

When the door finally opened, a young man sheepishly hung his head as he passed. (I'd already figured it out, and waited.) The door swung shut, and then opened again, as a young woman left, not knowing whether to catch my eye or not. I smiled, and backed away to let her pass.

I went in only to stand there imagining what might have just happened in that cramped little space.

And I felt in sync with the cosmos.

I know he missed us while we were gone. He focussed his warmth on the children when we met, and listened politely to my ramblings on the trip. It's good to be home.

But he hasn't let me cum.

a "slave" on vacation

how is such an oxymoron possible?

I've been a "slave" on vacation, and ended up tied to the posts of unfamiliar houses.
I've been a "slave" on vacation, and never realized he wasn't there.
I've been a "slave" on vacation, and ended up taking care of everybody else's children while they drank in the lounge.
I've been a "slave" on vacation, and discovered myself in corners of the world he'll never know.

BiBunny said:

Part of me hates it. Part of me resents that I am the way I am. I never wanted to be this way. I'm having one hell of a time accepting it. Being a painslut is one thing. Big deal. It's the total lack of self-preservation around him that I don't understand, the desire to do anything just for his attention and his happiness. It seems fucked up to me. Part of me wants to be normal, whatever that is.

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I think we all reach this point. For me it was something really small and insignificant. I have always thought of myself a submissive. Swore I wasn't a slave. And well you know my story..lol. Been in a 24/7 M/s relationship for going on a year. For me one of the hardest things to accept was just how much control he had. In the past I had limits, and I was doing long distance D/s. When it really hit me in this relationship was in the beginning, I had a horrible headache, I reached for an advil like I always do. I was immediately told no. He had his reasons for telling me no..but in that moment it really hit me, I've given up my right to even take an advil if I need one. What hit me even harder..I was happy about it.
I know that's a very small thing, something other slave's would read and probably say well duh..how did you think it would be..lol. For me though, that's when it really hit me..the small everyday things.

BiBunny said:

I loved him more in that moment than I've ever loved anyone before in my life. It didn't stop the tears or the pain, but I knew he was right. It was horrible, awful, but I'd have taken ten times more if he'd wanted. So he kept going. And I kept crying. But I didn't beg him to stop anymore because I knew he wanted to see me suffer.

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" The more you suffer, the more it shows you really care" ~ Oasis.

nh23 said:

I think we all reach this point. For me it was something really small and insignificant. I have always thought of myself a submissive. Swore I wasn't a slave. And well you know my story..lol. Been in a 24/7 M/s relationship for going on a year. For me one of the hardest things to accept was just how much control he had. In the past I had limits, and I was doing long distance D/s. When it really hit me in this relationship was in the beginning, I had a horrible headache, I reached for an advil like I always do. I was immediately told no. He had his reasons for telling me no..but in that moment it really hit me, I've given up my right to even take an advil if I need one. What hit me even harder..I was happy about it.
I know that's a very small thing, something other slave's would read and probably say well duh..how did you think it would be..lol. For me though, that's when it really hit me..the small everyday things.

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I agree. I think it's the advil moments that hit the hardest.

Followed closely by the moments when you think that if you do what he asks, you'll die.

Or worse, survive, and live to see the ruins.

nh23 said:

" The more you suffer, the more it shows you really care" ~ Oasis.

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I don't know. I don't want to suffer. Nor do I want to be a stoic, suffering in silence.

For me, choosing to be a "slave" does not mean I have embraced suffering at his hands. If I suffer, it's usually because I'm resisting his actions or his will.

Nor does my suffering prove to him that I care. He calls my suffering "whining" and hates it.

It's my ability to please him that shows I care. Mostly because it shows I've cared enough to learn what's important to him, and then chosen to act on that knowledge.

This morning he says, "you need to learn the craftiness of the slave."







I have to be careful. He'd see through me in a minute.


(What do you think he's saying? He certainly doesn't want me to manipulate him. But he does want me to "get what I want" by working with his desires.

I'm on serious orgasm denial. He's hanging me on the edge of my own abyss, and it's clouding my thinking.)

eastern sun said:

This morning he says, "you need to learn the craftiness of the slave."

I have to be careful. He'd see through me in a minute.


(What do you think he's saying? He certainly doesn't want me to manipulate him. But he does want me to "get what I want" by working with his desires.

I'm on serious orgasm denial. He's hanging me on the edge of my own abyss, and it's clouding my thinking.)

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There are moments when I'm aware of the rules he has set for me enough that I can operate within them and play him at his own game. I'm trying to think of a good example now... grr.

eastern sun said:

This morning he says, "you need to learn the craftiness of the slave."

I have to be careful. He'd see through me in a minute.


(What do you think he's saying? He certainly doesn't want me to manipulate him. But he does want me to "get what I want" by working with his desires.

I'm on serious orgasm denial. He's hanging me on the edge of my own abyss, and it's clouding my thinking.)

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What makes you think he cares whether you're manipulative or not? Slaves have been tricksters forever.

Do you think that's just because the slaves are so smart? Don't be so naive-- or vain.

Just give him what he wants. Get what you want.

Oh. And one more question I'd like you to please answer:

"Why on earth would you think your Dom is so trifling he would care about whether he is manipulated or not?"

Editted.

Nope, I don't want to give this one away. Better to watch it unfold.

You do well, ES.

eastern sun said:

I agree. I think it's the advil moments that hit the hardest.

Followed closely by the moments when you think that if you do what he asks, you'll die.

Or worse, survive, and live to see the ruins.

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*nods*

eastern sun said:

I don't know. I don't want to suffer. Nor do I want to be a stoic, suffering in silence.

For me, choosing to be a "slave" does not mean I have embraced suffering at his hands. If I suffer, it's usually because I'm resisting his actions or his will.

Nor does my suffering prove to him that I care. He calls my suffering "whining" and hates it.

It's my ability to please him that shows I care. Mostly because it shows I've cared enough to learn what's important to him, and then chosen to act on that knowledge.

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Lol...it was kind of a joke I was saying to BiBunny. It's a quote from an Oasis song called "Self Esteem. " On the other hand I myself do want/need to suffer at times. I posted about it once on a thread around here, but can't find it at the moment. I'm as much of and emotional masochist as I am a physical. I won't derail your thread with all that though.

nh23 said:

Lol...it was kind of a joke I was saying to BiBunny. It's a quote from an Oasis song called "Self Esteem. " On the other hand I myself do want/need to suffer at times. I posted about it once on a thread around here, but can't find it at the moment. I'm as much of and emotional masochist as I am a physical. I won't derail your thread with all that though.

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I'm curious about emotional masochism.

I've always painted my pain in spiritual colors, like 'it's important to be willing to feel pain so you don't shut down to your own or others' experiences' or 'only by fully experiencing your own truth, even in its most painful aspects, are you able to understand someone else's' etc. etc.

but my husband finds jealousy exciting, and wants to be taken deep into the core of its burning center. as his "slave," he knows he will never "lose" me. but the emotional risk of loosening my leash to the point where I discover in other people experiences I will never share with him - of witnessing that I might cum harder, quicker, longer with other men - of nurturing the idea that I will serve him but not necessarily be satisfied by him - triggers his deepest pleasure.

I don't fully understand his motives. I find emotional pain refreshingly liberating, but only when it leads to greater clarity of mind and ego-emptiness in its wake. He chooses instead to muddy the waters and darken the sky with stories of betrayal and loss in order to dance with demons in the shadows.

I'm not sure why I feel so free to speak of him today. Usually I try to avoid interpreting his actions (since I'm often wrong in the end, anyway). And ultimately it doesn't matter if I understand of not.

But it does make me curious.

And has tremendous impact on my life.

"I have a fine sense of the ridiculous, but no sense of humour."

Edward Albee, Who's Afraid of Virginia Woolf

"What I wanted to get at is the value difference between pornographic playing-cards when you’re a kid, and pornographic playing-cards when you’re older. It’s that when you’re a kid you use the cards as a substitute for a real experience, and when you’re older you use real experience as a substitute for the fantasy."

Edward Albee, The Zoo Story

Albee said:

Oh. And one more question I'd like you to please answer:

"Why on earth would you think your Dom is so trifling he would care about whether he is manipulated or not?"

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He read this and said, "sometimes the master wants to be manipulated."

Here's the trick for the tricksters out there - master gets what master wants.

I'm still on orgasm denial. And though I'd like to say that I'm handling it well, in all honesty, I'm beginning to show signs of frustration.

This morning I had to sign a note in my son's school planner - "though I was given 3 weeks to do so, I did not finish the LA packet." Admittedly, he did not have time over the holiday break, but I watched him play computer games all Monday night after he told me he had no homework. I know he had time to write the required essay.

I lost it. I swore at him. I told him if I ever had a to sign a note like that again, he'd lose his Dungeons and Dragons books for a month. By the time I was done, he was in tears.

And I was still frustrated.

On the way home, after dropping him off at school, I thought about the celibacy of monks. Of nuns who had married Jesus. I felt momentary release in the idea of cumming with a deity. But, the solution to my problem isn't an orgasm.

This unfulfilled longing is muddying my thoughts. I'm keeping outright resentment at bay, but it sneaks its bitter spirit in when I'm not vigilant. I think things like "see what you've created. . . is this what you want?"

I must redirect this energy. I must clear the channel, tune out the static, open my heart. I must love. Sing. Move. Breathe.

When I remember, and try to breathe, my chest is constricted. I have succeeded in binding myself.

I once broke off with an online dom who put me on orgasm denial, and then forgot he'd done it. I figured it was a bad sign. But I don't have the luxury today of saying "no fair." Hell, for all I know, it is fair. Maybe, as they say, I'm exactly where I'm supposed to be.

But, there is one thing I'm sure of, even in my confused state. It isn't fair to take my frustration out on my children. Even if they are goddamned spoiled brats.