the marks of a slave

[Adakgirl]

Eastern sun come back! I am concerned you don't care for the direction your thread has turned and are thinking of abandoning it. I do tend towards the dramatic so I could be concerned for no reason. It is only a threadlike temporary waylay. This thread has helped many people and given an avenue of expression to some that have not been comfortable enough to say what is on their minds.
I look forward to your posts about your everyday life, or your wonder at something your Master has said to you. You have a gift of expressing your inner thoughts and feelings through your writing. It is a beautiful thing to read.

I look forward to reading all of the other people posting here too.
You are needed here. You are wanted here. You are respected, adored and admired here. We love you. That has to count for something.

 

[eastern sun]

Eastern sun come back! I am concerned you don't care for the direction your thread has turned and are thinking of abandoning it. I do tend towards the dramatic so I could be concerned for no reason. It is only a threadlike temporary waylay. This thread has helped many people and given an avenue of expression to some that have not been comfortable enough to say what is on their minds.
I look forward to your posts about your everyday life, or your wonder at something your Master has said to you. You have a gift of expressing your inner thoughts and feelings through your writing. It is a beautiful thing to read.

I look forward to reading all of the other people posting here too.
You are needed here. You are wanted here. You are respected, adored and admired here. We love you. That has to count for something.

Thank you, Adakgirl, for encouraging me the way you do.

Some days I have nothing to say. Some days I have no time of my own. Lately, I haven't had enough time to write. He's been home sick for the last week; and it gives him to time to watch my days and think. I rather enjoy the outcome, but it keeps me very busy.

I've enjoyed the discussion and am especially grateful for the pseudo Hindu crockery that found its way into the mix. (I really am fascinated by the experience of those seams where sexual and spiritual energies meet.) Thank you to everyone who posted.

 

[Adakgirl]

Eastern Sun sorry to hear your Master has been ill. Wish him well for me and thank you for checking in and relieving my concern.

Shhhhh.... calm calm little subbie.

i'm sure there's a reason she's away for now, it's okay.

Thank you Stag for that. That was a nice post.
Have you tried Skype? As far as cam/ chat or just voice and text IM chat, it is the best one as far as I am concerned. It's free and you can call any person anywhere in the world, who has skype downloaded on their computer and talk as long as you want, for free. It's very user friendly and has fantastic sound. It never crashes like Yahoo tends to do and never disconnects on it's own. Go to Skype.com. and download it then tell your Mistresses about it, once they have it you add each other to your lists and your good to go. Or are you already with them?

 

[eastern sun]

I've done a little domestic service for him before. It's not a totally new thing. I think it's more the mindset of it that will be different rather than the actual tasks at hand, if that makes any sense.

I hope everything went well tonight, BiBunny. I'm curious as to how you'd describe the difference in the mindsets between the pet/toy and the slave.

 

[Adakgirl]

Soon, I hope. I have a few things to take care of first.

I've done a little domestic service for him before. It's not a totally new thing. I think it's more the mindset of it that will be different rather than the actual tasks at hand, if that makes any sense.

I missed this on the last pg. I think it might be more of a mindset too. But also a completely different way of life for you. Challenging for sure.

 

[BiBunny]

I hope everything went well tonight, BiBunny. I'm curious as to how you'd describe the difference in the mindsets between the pet/toy and the slave.

Everything went...beautifully. I just got home about 30 minutes ago, LOL.

To be honest, I still was more pet/toy last night than slave, so I can't put that in perspective quite yet. I'll be glad to once it happens, though!

Thank you so much for asking, by the way.

 

[eastern sun]

My mind is so completely empty, there is no language between the impulse to act and the action itself. I watch the ripples roll away, and then it's still again.

Out of habit I want to stir things up, excite myself, but can't catch ahold of anything that matters.

Even sexually, I am at rest until put in motion.

A few days ago, when I woke up, he wanted to watch me masturbate. I tried to resurrect the old fantasies, but couldn't make them stick. It wasn't until he started speaking, and I could ride the movement of his voice, that I could finally kindle a fire and give him what he wanted.

And, whereas before he has enjoyed the voyeuristic feeling of being outside my fantasies, of feeling the distance between my mind and his, these days we are much closer, more intimate, as another set of barriers dissolve.

In all things, these days, I am more able to give him what he wants because I cannot find a reason not to. The words I might use to object do not exist any more. They have been burned in the bonfire of heightened commitment and focussed intention.

 

[eastern sun]

I learned something a week ago.

The source of my greatest resistance is a misdirected maternal instinct, causing me to lash out like a wild animal when I think my cubs are threatened. I act without reason, with an incredibly strong will, and I'm often wrong in my actions. Even if the threat is real, the way I handle it is so frequently misguided, it only causes more difficulties for the very children I wish to protect.

Being able to honor the instinct, for its intentions are honorable, but question its expression is helping me work through a few habitual behavior patterns that have caused a lot of conflict in my family.

Imagine having a wolf for a mama. It works only in the most primitive of circumstances.

 

[eastern sun]

My mind is so completely empty, there is no language between the impulse to act and the action itself. I watch the ripples roll away, and then it's still again.

Out of habit I want to stir things up, excite myself, but can't catch ahold of anything that matters.

Even sexually, I am at rest until put in motion.

A few days ago, when I woke up, he wanted to watch me masturbate. I tried to resurrect the old fantasies, but couldn't make them stick. It wasn't until he started speaking, and I could ride the movement of his voice, that I could finally kindle a fire and give him what he wanted.

And, whereas before he has enjoyed the voyeuristic feeling of being outside my fantasies, of feeling the distance between my mind and his, these days we are much closer, more intimate, as another set of barriers dissolve.

In all things, these days, I am more able to give him what he wants because I cannot find a reason not to. The words I might use to object do not exist any more. They have been burned in the bonfire of heightened commitment and focussed intention.

He liked this post and agreed that a shift has occurred, but wanted to remind me that he still enjoys the voyeuristic feeling of being outside my fantasies and intends to keep it in play.

 

[eastern sun]

snow day

The alarm goes off at 6:00 a.m. I head downstairs and turn on the tv to check on rumors of school closings. NYC public schools are closed for the first time in five years. I am relieved and climb back in bed.

About an hour later, I get up and dress for the weather. My husband is already up, working from home. I head out to pick up coffee and buy an extra cup for the guy who shovels snow in the neighborhood when he's not in jail.

I come home to shovel our sidewalk and the elderly neighbors' next door. My neighbor offers me a cup of coffee. I take him up on it. And then go in to feed my kids. and my husband. and head back out to help my landlady shovel the path to the subway by my studio.

Reminded that I should have asked for an extension, I finish off the draft of a song I've been working on, a writing assignment due yesterday, and hand it to him. And go out again to shovel out the car, heading out into the storm by 10:00 a.m. for my annual mammogram. The office is empty, but I still have to wait. In the room, I am moved into postion a second time as they try to make sense of a shadow on the plate, and try to find comfort in the way the technician places her hand on my shoulder, but the pinch makes me cry out in spite of my stillness. And her "I'm sorry" is sincere. I head back into the snow.

I can't find a parking place back in my neighborhood, and finally see a man whisking snow from his windshield with a little tiny broom. I pull up, asking if he's on his way out. "I'm trying." I pull the snow shovel out of my car, and start digging him out. I loan him my icescraper, and within 10 minutes or so, he's ready to go. We laugh and thank each other. I wish him luck at his destination, and pull into the spot he leaves behind.

With all the shoveling, my heart feels strong, but my shoulders ache. I feel like a healthy aging ox.

I come home to feed the kids lunch, and take them sledding. We meet old classmates and teachers out at Monument Hill and stay until my youngest slides right into a tree. I hate to watch her body wrap around the trunk on impact, and she cries more from my response than any real injury. I let her go down one more time, and even take a run myself, speeding down the hill through the trees, unable to steer the plastic disc, hitting the jump that the teenagers built from packed snow, and feeling the spray of snow across my face as the edge of the sled touches back down on the hill again. I am moving too fast to be comfortable, but I am so glad I'm still alive and in one piece, I want someone to congratulate me at the bottom. No one is paying attention. We rejoin my son, who's pacing with impatience. He hasn't been able to find his friends.

I pull my daughter home on the sled and am reminded of their early years. When the two of them would sit on the sled together, and my son would hug my daughter tight. Now they bicker, and he thinks I'm mean.

I come home to make hot chocolate, and he critiques my song and asks me to perform it for him next week. And we all watch tv together - last night's Celebrity Apprentice - tivo'd for the kids. We try to predict who will win the cupcake challenge.

By 4:30, as our thoughts turn to dinner, everyone is bored and asking me "what are we going to do now?" And I really don't know. I don't know.

 

[eastern sun]

I broke out of my restraints yesterday. I panicked.

At first I thought he didn't mind.

But actually his thought was "what the f**k?"



"I'm sorry."

(I want it to sound sincere.)

 

[intothewoods]

What kind of restraints?

 

[eastern sun]

What kind of restraints?

In this case, black bondage ribbon. It's a very comfortable non-adhesive tape.

He's used it before over my face, but this time my weight was pressing down onto my chest and my hands were tied behind my back and I felt like I was suffocating and I just panicked.

 

[eastern sun]

I am a total wimp.

 

[Adakgirl]

Get a second opinion. Just in case?

 

[eastern sun]

He said, "You're not a wimp, cause you're gonna do what I tell you to do."

 

[eastern sun]

I feel like a wimp when I desperately want to get comfortable. . .

Pema Chodron once said, "courage isn't cozy," and made everyone laugh.

 

[eastern sun]

Me: "You're sexy."

Him: "What difference does it make. I don't want to fuck."

 

[Adakgirl]

Sexiness has little to do with fucking, more to do with desirability.

 

[eastern sun]

Sexiness has little to do with fucking, more to do with desirability.

I think he likes that I find him desirable, but wants to remind me that my desires are only relevant when he's interested in them.

 

[myinnerslut]

i am who i am, exactly who i am, no more, but also no less.

i am a student. i am a teacher. and while i am in classroom i am still a slave.
i am a daughter,sister, niece, cousin. and at thanksgiving dinner i am still a slave.
i am a religious person, familiar with my faith, and at services i am still a slave.

its more then a part of me. its the first part of me. i juggle the other hats, wearing some longer then others, wearing others only when necessary. slave is not a hat to be worn and taken off when convenient. it is the base that everything else can layer onto.

slavery is exciting. in its own way it is freedom. i am finally who i feel most comfortable with.

slavery is restraining. its restrictive, and painful.

slavery is rewarding. it is filled with more pleasures then i thought possible. not all sexual, not even most sexual. there is pleasure in pleasing my Master. there is pleasure in serving. there is pleasure in making him happy, and especially making him proud.

slavery is scary. it is frightening. it is unknown and unlimited. the day i was collared i was so frightened i was shaking. later, Master told me that if i wasn't scared he wouldn't have been comfortable collaring me, for i would have no concept of what i was getting into.

slavery hurts. it is taking what you dont want to, because your owner does. it is doing things that come to you with great difficulty, if at all. it is putting yourself last. again. and again. it is doing something without acknowledgment or praise or recognition.

slavery is what i was made for. made to please him, made to serve him, made to be owned by him. in his chains, i can fly. bound by his will, i can do things i never could before. i am happier. i am fulfilled. i found my place, and if i have anything to say about it, i will never leave.

slavery. it is who i am.

 

[eastern sun]

i am who i am, exactly who i am, no more, but also no less.

i am a student. i am a teacher. and while i am in classroom i am still a slave.
i am a daughter,sister, niece, cousin. and at thanksgiving dinner i am still a slave.
i am a religious person, familiar with my faith, and at services i am still a slave.

its more then a part of me. its the first part of me. i juggle the other hats, wearing some longer then others, wearing others only when necessary. slave is not a hat to be worn and taken off when convenient. it is the base that everything else can layer onto.

slavery is exciting. in its own way it is freedom. i am finally who i feel most comfortable with.

slavery is restraining. its restrictive, and painful.

slavery is rewarding. it is filled with more pleasures then i thought possible. not all sexual, not even most sexual. there is pleasure in pleasing my Master. there is pleasure in serving. there is pleasure in making him happy, and especially making him proud.

slavery is scary. it is frightening. it is unknown and unlimited. the day i was collared i was so frightened i was shaking. later, Master told me that if i wasn't scared he wouldn't have been comfortable collaring me, for i would have no concept of what i was getting into.

slavery hurts. it is taking what you dont want to, because your owner does. it is doing things that come to you with great difficulty, if at all. it is putting yourself last. again. and again. it is doing something without acknowledgment or praise or recognition.

slavery is what i was made for. made to please him, made to serve him, made to be owned by him. in his chains, i can fly. bound by his will, i can do things i never could before. i am happier. i am fulfilled. i found my place, and if i have anything to say about it, i will never leave.

slavery. it is who i am.

Thank you for sharing this, MIS.

 

[BiBunny]

Master said something yesterday that interested me. "You are our slave, but you're still our equal, and you always will be."

Mistress said something the day before that interested me. "I have this overwhelming desire to make you happy."

Such a departure from the usual way of looking at things and perhaps grounds for saying, "OMG, you're not really M/s! Who's serving who here?" but whatever. At its core, those two statements are exactly what my fairly unusual relationship with my Owners is. I am their equal; they want to make me happy.

But, to quote Mistress, I am still, to the hardcore depths of my soul, a slave.

 

[eastern sun]

So now I'm thinking about fear. And trust.

I met a slave tonight on another site who claims she submits to her Master because she fears him. She is afraid of what he'll do if she doesn't do what he asks.

And myinnerslut poignantly states that she was frightened on the day she was collared. Frightened of the very thing she wanted to happen.

I know both those fears.

I've always treated fear as an obstacle to service. A condition that needed to be balanced by my own internal adjustments. Implying that the day would come when I wouldn't feel afraid ever again. (or at least that crippling kind of fear)

Really?

Tonight I'm wondering if fear isn't a necessary component of the experience.

What if I followed my previous train of thought, and really was able to overcome my fear? Would I be sorry? Would I miss its energy? Its fire?

Or is it that I am trying to put my fear in his hands? In hands I trust. Hoping then that he'll mete it out in doses that are medicinal, curative, healing.

Maybe if I put my fear in his control I can be free from that generalized fear of all the myriad ways I fuck things up.

Look at this thinking!

It's humbling.

 

[eastern sun]

Master said something yesterday that interested me. "You are our slave, but you're still our equal, and you always will be."

Mistress said something the day before that interested me. "I have this overwhelming desire to make you happy."

Such a departure from the usual way of looking at things and perhaps grounds for saying, "OMG, you're not really M/s! Who's serving who here?" but whatever. At its core, those two statements are exactly what my fairly unusual relationship with my Owners is. I am their equal; they want to make me happy.

But, to quote Mistress, I am still, to the hardcore depths of my soul, a slave.

BiBunny, my husband thinks of me as an equal and wants me to be happy too.

But I'm still his slave. His priorities and desires always come first, they are not "equal" to mine in his mind. And he does not hold himself responsible for my happiness. (If I placed my happiness solely in his hands, I would not be happy. )

The fact that you choose a Master and Mistress who think of you as an equal and want to make you happy just reveals the nature of the experience you're looking for.

Do Masters have to be cruel to stay in power?