the marks of a slave

[eastern sun]

"If you want, you can write that your husband said 'You dodged the bullet.'"

I dodged the bullet.

 

[BiBunny]

I have loved these types of Pygmalion relationships, and have allowed myself to be reshaped by more than one.

But though we usually think of the sculptor creating the "ideal" out of the raw and crude material he's presented with, it's interesting to note that the original myth of Pygmalion tells a slightly different story.

According to Ovid, Pygmalion rejected women because of prostitution, and devoted himself to his art. After creating an ideal form out of stone, he then fell in love with his creation, and prayed to the gods to bring it to life.

Apparently some Renaissance writers took it the next step, and wrote of how the statue, once brought to life, remained cold and unresponsive to his love due to its stony nature.

It wasn't until Victorian England that "Pygmalion as molder of women" took shape.



edited to add: I have no idea what that has to do with your post, BiBunny. In pursuing some creative ideas, lately, I've been allowing myself a lot of tangential thinking. I would be very interested to hear about your experience of being "created."

I'm not ignoring your question, eastern sun. I just haven't decided how I want to answer yet, and I'm really enjoying the continuing discussion.

 

[WomanofCurves]

Awfully helpful Thread for the interested but naive!

Hello everyone!
Eastern Sun your accounts and the accounts of others have been incredible, not just for their beauty but also for allowing me to see that the D/s relationship is so much more than what my naive mind could muster. I am currently exploring this possibility and I have always been mildly put off by the idea that the Dom should control everything and often times be given to doling out painful punishment. Thank you all for sharing your varying relationships. It is comforting as I myself am very dominant and quite happily self sufficient but by the same token I am very attracted to being allowed to give up that control even for a few moments. By the looks of your accounts it is merely a matter of finding a Dom who will be capable of allowing me my free spirit while still exercising his dominance in a way that is pleasurable for both of us. I owe gratitude to your Doms as well since these are their accounts as well. I only hope I am as fortunate to find the same peace and bliss that you all have found

 

[eastern sun]

reciprocal -

1. given, felt, or done in return
2. (of an agreement or obligation) bearing on or binding each of two parties equally
3. (grammar, of a pronoun or verb) expressing mutual action or relationship
4. (of a course or bearing) differing from a course or bearing by 180 degrees
5. (mathematics, of a quantity or function) related to another so that their product is one

derived from latin roots "re-" meaning back, and "pro-" meaning forward.



I stand corrected. Our relationship is, in fact, reciprocal.

I guess I was trying to say that I can't define what the return will be. And if I harbor expectations of certain returns, like any investor, I may be sorely disappointed.

 

[BustyBabeMA31]

I'm enjoying reading your thread. Life is so much better when you're able to find such erotism in the mundane things, isn't it? I hope we're all so luck to find happiness such as this. I must admit that I am curious on his take on things. Would be fun to have a "he/Dom Said" and "she/ sub Said" to each little posting...just a thought from a Dominantrix.

 

[tigressnred]

I second that motion..........

 

[rida]

*snip*
I think we s-type beauties often comfort ourselves with the hope that the D-type's beast will be pacified by the strength and gentleness of our devotion.

But what happens if it doesn't? What happens when you change and he doesn't?

What happens, ten years down the line, when he takes a unilateral action out of the blue that changes the course of your life?

Will you be ready?

Yes, I have to admit that part of me enjoys to entertain the idea that my "sacrifice" to the beast has a higher value and purpose than sexual relief or the realization of a fantasy. As if by allowing him to let his true self loose on me, I'm taking his darkness, his struggles away for a while, returning him to the world as a cleansed, "better man".

But this illusion only work for my outside relations.

With Hubby, I fell in love with him and accepted who he was/is. I can only hope that my love will help him grow, as his love is helping me grow myself. I've accepted from the beginning that the relationship I could see for us, might have not ever happened. I've accepted that all I could do was to be there, at his side, loving him no matter what his decision would be. Supporting him even when I could see disaster looming ahead, doing all my best to shelter the blows.

I did not realize back then, but the moment I accepted to marry him, still unaware of all BDSM concepts, I put my life in his hands. And if his unilateral decision will change the course of my life, I'll accept it and follow and support him. (Confronting him at first, reluctantly in a second time, accepting at last)

The only caveat to the above is that we have children and as such their well being comes above all. We both share in the believe that we cannot destroy their lives for our own whims, but there have been times when I had to be moma bear and push against his will. It is always hard and always a struggle because my own nature would just deal with the consequences instead.

And at times I wonder if my own pliability instead of pacifying the beast is making it more demanding ...

 

[eastern sun]

And at times I wonder if my own pliability instead of pacifying the beast is making it more demanding ...

This has been my experience. Feeding the beast makes it stronger, and hungrier.

On the other hand, my husband places limits on himself. He does not allow the beast free rein. The periods in our life where either of our beasts roamed freely have not been the happiest times.

We have been at our happiest when our behavior together was more orchestrated, when I have consciously kept my "cornered animal" resistance in check. And when his authority was "civilized" and not "brutish."

He is more likely to behave civilly towards me if I'm not fighting him at every turn. And I am more likely not to fight when his authoritative behavior is less threatening.

You can see why we sometimes turn to each other - "well, if you . . ., then I . . ."

But, I've learned, through experience, that I am able to stop fighting at any moment. And as soon as I do, his smile lights up the room.

 

[eastern sun]

Who am I kidding? I love the beast.

All this talk of morality and civilization is just one more set of regulations to keep us from spinning wildly into chaos.

I frequently want to shed the skin of this life of mine in order to chase my dreams without limitations.

To live untamed on the edge of society with all the trappings of loveliness, devouring anyone who ventures near.

It's usually mundane, like the desire to get on a bus and just ride away. I picture myself with a bag and a wide open future.

Sometimes, I think I'll become a monk (nun just doesn't sound right) and disappear into my cosmic mind.

I was raised by naked hippies, who built their homes in the trees, so sometimes I want the cottage in the woods with cats, pot-belly stoves and homemade silverware.

I really, really, really want to be an old woman with a garden and dancing shoes. One who can tell stories that keep the eyes of the listeners glowing.

But, at this stage in my development, I'm a bit stuck trying to integrate artist, mom and slave into a well-rounded whole.

And it's tiring me today.

I want to break out into new worlds, change the shape of my hair, my clothes, my smile.

I want to escape.

 

[rosco rathbone]

The story of the dancing shoes always filled me with horror.

 

[eastern sun]

The story of the dancing shoes always filled me with horror.

There was a story about an elf in Maurice Sendak's Little Bear collections, who was chased by his own shoes.

And Dr. Seuss' "empty pale green pants with nobody inside 'em."

I wanted my mom to read those stories to me over and over and over again.


Something about being chased by empty clothing pushed my terror button.

 

[eastern sun]

But I'm going to wear my old lady dancing shoes. And stomp out flamenco rhythms while I can still clap my hands.

 

[sadists_slut]

eastern_sun... your Master is fortunate to have such an intelligent, beautiful and dutiful slave, and you Dear Lady are fortunate to have such a loving and firm Master.

The very definition of a Master/slave relationship. Very symbiotic!

I wish you both continued happiness and pleasure.

 

[rosco rathbone]

There was a story about an elf in Maurice Sendak's Little Bear collections, who was chased by his own shoes.

And Dr. Seuss' "empty pale green pants with nobody inside 'em."

I wanted my mom to read those stories to me over and over and over again.


Something about being chased by empty clothing pushed my terror button.

That Seuss story is totally scary. NOt funny or cute scary---just fucking scary. Those pants have haunted me for years.

 

[PatchIsMe]

That Seuss story is totally scary. NOt funny or cute scary---just fucking scary. Those pants have haunted me for years.

Lol I love this story!!! I think it is about fearing the unknown and then realizing the fear and facing it and embracing it.

 

[eastern sun]

That Seuss story is totally scary. NOt funny or cute scary---just fucking scary. Those pants have haunted me for years.

I had to do an errand,
Had to pick a peck of Snide
In a dark and gloomy Snide-field
That was almost nine miles wide.

I said, "I do not fear those pants
With nobody inside them."
I said, and said, and said those words.
I said them. But I lied them.



What was I scared of?

 

[sb2009]

when I was really young someone gave me a really old copy of Grimm's Fairy Tales...it had lots of versions of the bloody dancing shoes, young virgins arms being cut off by their fathers, father's marrying them to replace the mothers..that, combined with 40's and 50's era sci fi perhaps warped me.....

 

[insert____here]

i have read every page. and understood so little. the depth of a lifetime is not so easily put together in my head, despite the eloquence of easternsun's writings... but i want to understand. god and Master willing, i one day will. my first step was so recently. the only thing i can remember is the feeling of falling. i jumped because i needed to. i jumped because He asked and i couldn't say no. i didn't want to say no. He asked and i complied. it wasn't the thought of punishment or retribution or fear. He asked and that was enough. i'm still falling; i don't know if He will catch me. and i don't care. i realise i will jump every time regardless of what's at the bottom; the safety of Him or the rocks.

edited to add; and my son loves the green pants story. and the triantiwontigongoloupe. and the poem about going through the park at night, although i can't remember who it's by. why is that the stories that provoke out inner fears as children are still best remembered as adults and passed on?

 

[eastern sun]

why is that the stories that provoke out inner fears as children are still best remembered as adults and passed on?

I think it's because they speak a truth that most of the adults are trying to deny. How many parents say, "don't be scared," "there's nothing to be afraid of." Even while their own fear is painfully and frighteningly obvious.

How does a little kid work with "it's just a dream?" "It's all in your head?"

How does an adult work with their fears of an imagined future?

My experience is there's always something to be afraid of.

Now that my kids are a little older, one of their favorite phrases is "Be afraid. Be very afraid."

It's comforting to have your fears validated. Even if you do have to go on and do the thing you're frightened of.

 

[eastern sun]

when I was really young someone gave me a really old copy of Grimm's Fairy Tales...it had lots of versions of the bloody dancing shoes, young virgins arms being cut off by their fathers, father's marrying them to replace the mothers..that, combined with 40's and 50's era sci fi perhaps warped me.....

You know the bloody shoes . . .? The idea that you would do something fun or pleasurable until you hurt yourself, dance until your shoes were torn and bloody, is pretty mesmerizing as a kid. Especially the idea that not only wouldn't you care, you'd like it. You'd come home laughing. And you'd go out and do it again. Every night.

And the solution that's offered? Bring it all above ground. Leave that underground secret life. Bring it to the light of day. And get married!

 

[eastern sun]

eastern_sun... your Master is fortunate to have such an intelligent, beautiful and dutiful slave, and you Dear Lady are fortunate to have such a loving and firm Master.

The very definition of a Master/slave relationship. Very symbiotic!

I wish you both continued happiness and pleasure.

I never knew how much I liked to be called "Dear Lady" until you called me it. Thank you

 

[sadists_slut]

I never knew how much I liked to be called "Dear Lady" until you called me it. Thank you

You are welcome Dear Lady. I am glad it struck a chord.

I like when that happens. A feeling like opening a nice gift.

 

[eastern sun]

. . oops . .

 

[AimeeLamis]

This was my first time reading this thread. Thank you for sharing. You are a very lucky slave. What a wonderful life you have with your Master and family. Thanks again for sharing.

 

[eastern sun]

This was my first time reading this thread. Thank you for sharing. You are a very lucky slave. What a wonderful life you have with your Master and family. Thanks again for sharing.

Thank you. I usually feel very lucky, but . . .

He doesn't like me very much right now. I am disappointing him, and annoying him. Maybe everything in his life is disappointing him . . .

But I don't want to do the things that would make him feel better.

And he doesn't want to bother to "make me."

Last night, we're out together. We sit across from each other and barely say a word. Fortunately there's music playing, but he doesn't like it. (I bought the tickets this time, for professional reasons.) On the way home, he walks ten feet in front of me, and though he glances back once to make sure I'm following, he only speaks to me when he can't find the hotel he's looking for.

I stand outside on the sidewalk, while he goes inside.