Ok, so I actually had a blog I was going to post. But then everything from the waist down decided to revolt at once, and now I can't think well enough to post anything of any substance. Fucking PCOS. I would like to die now, please. Quickly and painlessly.
I'm a bad slave girl. But...I'm not always like this. I'm not really sure who hijacked my body and replaced me with this whiny, needy, clingy person prone to tears at the least provocation.
B. and J. are probably going to drown me and hide my body. Not that I'd blame them.
I have so much to do and no inclination to do it. I also want to die. I may have mentioned that before. And I miss them. *Wails*
OMG, wtf is wrong with me?
Monday, March 30, 2009
Thursday, March 26, 2009
The "I Love Mattress" Blog
J. is the most wonderful, beautiful, awesome Mistress in the whole world! Even if she is at the beach this weekend while I'm stuck here. *Grumble*
I'm about to veer off on a minor tangent that's not going to make sense for a minute, but I promise to bring it back around and make it make sense. Insofar as any of my ramblings make sense, that is.
I've been in a sadistic mood the last few days. If I get a lot of one side, I start craving the other. It's odd. Problem is, the only even remotely masochistic sub boy in my list of boys I call when I need them and ignore the rest of the time (yes, I'm a bad person, leave me alone) has vanished off the face of the earth again (he does it semi-regularly). Sooo...it's back to the drawing board for slave-girl to find a painslut to beat on. My riding crop is screaming my name at this point.
Oh, well, whatever. I get tons of email every day. I'll find one soon enough.
A large part of me really, really wants J. to see me when I'm not all stupidly submissive. I mean, other than the fact that I've been told it's pretty impressive to watch me go from shy, unassuming person in the corner to super-sadistic bitch, and I think she'll find it amusing.
I want her to see that devoted slave-girl is not my default setting. I'd say I'm pretty damned accommodating most of the time, but I'm not particularly submissive to...oh, anyone, really.
It's not that I'm ashamed of what I am when I'm with B. and J. Quite the contrary. I just want J. to see how special she is to bring that out in me. She makes exactly the second person I've ever met who's ever been able to. (The first, of course, being B.) Not to mention how special she is to even give me the chance to be theirs in the first damned place.
I miss and love them both very much. Only four more days until I get snuggle with both of them again!
I'm about to veer off on a minor tangent that's not going to make sense for a minute, but I promise to bring it back around and make it make sense. Insofar as any of my ramblings make sense, that is.
I've been in a sadistic mood the last few days. If I get a lot of one side, I start craving the other. It's odd. Problem is, the only even remotely masochistic sub boy in my list of boys I call when I need them and ignore the rest of the time (yes, I'm a bad person, leave me alone) has vanished off the face of the earth again (he does it semi-regularly). Sooo...it's back to the drawing board for slave-girl to find a painslut to beat on. My riding crop is screaming my name at this point.
Oh, well, whatever. I get tons of email every day. I'll find one soon enough.
A large part of me really, really wants J. to see me when I'm not all stupidly submissive. I mean, other than the fact that I've been told it's pretty impressive to watch me go from shy, unassuming person in the corner to super-sadistic bitch, and I think she'll find it amusing.
I want her to see that devoted slave-girl is not my default setting. I'd say I'm pretty damned accommodating most of the time, but I'm not particularly submissive to...oh, anyone, really.
It's not that I'm ashamed of what I am when I'm with B. and J. Quite the contrary. I just want J. to see how special she is to bring that out in me. She makes exactly the second person I've ever met who's ever been able to. (The first, of course, being B.) Not to mention how special she is to even give me the chance to be theirs in the first damned place.
I miss and love them both very much. Only four more days until I get snuggle with both of them again!
Self-Pity
Well, it's not exactly self-pity.
Oh, what the hell, maybe it is.
It's raining. I got an interview for a REAL, non-adult writing position, and my mother bitched at me because it wasn't a "real" job. And told me I needed to go back to school. Can I point out that at this point in my life, I've basically been in school non-stop for TWENTY YEARS? I mean, I plan on finishing my master's, but after that, I'm taking a damned break for awhile. And then, she told me I need to get out of the house and meet people and have a real life.
WHAT. THE. FUCK?
Seriously, sometimes I wonder how I was born in this family.
Then, not only that, but I have a zillion things I have to do in the next few days. Write up a resume for myself that doesn't scream ADULT! Go to my interview. Clean my apartment (which is a never-ending uphill battle because I hate cleaning and am prone to getting overwhelmed and not knowing where to start and ending up in a big teary pile in the middle of my house, bawling my eyes out for no apparent reason). Work and make enough money to pay rent (which is looking like an uphill battle as well). Go to a damned wedding back at home on Saturday. Set up my NF accounts again. Try not to lose my mind. Etc.
I'm moody and irrational for no apparent reason. I miss B. and J. like mad. I can't find my goddamned collar, and I cried for nearly an hour last night because I don't know where it went. Then I proceeded to almost slice my damned finger off by accident. I thought I never would stop bleeding. I slept with my stuffed lamb that J. bought me last night. He smells like their house.
I miss them so much.
All this crying and lying in bed and feeling sorry for myself is so not me. I'm weirdly hormonal or something, I guess.
Oh, well. It's gotta get better, right?
Oh, what the hell, maybe it is.
It's raining. I got an interview for a REAL, non-adult writing position, and my mother bitched at me because it wasn't a "real" job. And told me I needed to go back to school. Can I point out that at this point in my life, I've basically been in school non-stop for TWENTY YEARS? I mean, I plan on finishing my master's, but after that, I'm taking a damned break for awhile. And then, she told me I need to get out of the house and meet people and have a real life.
WHAT. THE. FUCK?
Seriously, sometimes I wonder how I was born in this family.
Then, not only that, but I have a zillion things I have to do in the next few days. Write up a resume for myself that doesn't scream ADULT! Go to my interview. Clean my apartment (which is a never-ending uphill battle because I hate cleaning and am prone to getting overwhelmed and not knowing where to start and ending up in a big teary pile in the middle of my house, bawling my eyes out for no apparent reason). Work and make enough money to pay rent (which is looking like an uphill battle as well). Go to a damned wedding back at home on Saturday. Set up my NF accounts again. Try not to lose my mind. Etc.
I'm moody and irrational for no apparent reason. I miss B. and J. like mad. I can't find my goddamned collar, and I cried for nearly an hour last night because I don't know where it went. Then I proceeded to almost slice my damned finger off by accident. I thought I never would stop bleeding. I slept with my stuffed lamb that J. bought me last night. He smells like their house.
I miss them so much.
All this crying and lying in bed and feeling sorry for myself is so not me. I'm weirdly hormonal or something, I guess.
Oh, well. It's gotta get better, right?
Tuesday, March 24, 2009
Ok, I Admit It
I read J.'s blog at random times, even though I've probably read all her entries so many times I could recite them from memory now. *Blush* I just like to see the nice things she's said about me.
For someone who blogs as much as I do, I'm not really into reading them. Of course, that could be because I DO blog all the time, so reading them isn't generally appealing. I only read J.'s and Cake Wrecks because it's hilarious and makes me feel sooooo much better about my own pitiful attempts at decorating cakes. (Don't ask. Seriously.)
Since I finally finished a bunch of crap for work and the cover letter for the job B. is applying for, I can actually blog now.
People ask me a lot of times what I want to do if I ever finish my freaking master's. My normal reply is something along the lines of "I haven't made up my mind yet." I'm lying, of course. I know exactly what I want to do, but telling the truth either gets strange looks from people who don't know me well or lectures about how "that's not a real job" from people who do (i.e., my mother).
I want to write.
There are other things that have passed through my mind, of course. At one time, before I got old and fat and out-of-shape and all beat up from falling off so many horses through the years, I wanted to be a professional horse trainer. There might've been a time when I could've done it, but that time has long since passed.
But ever since I was about 12 or so, I've wanted to write. It's all I'm really remotely good at, and why waste a God-given talent, right? And, too, everything else I've ever thought I've wanted to do has basically been a way to make a whole bunch of horses so I could do what? Retire young, live on a farm out in the country with my horses, and, well...write.
It doesn't have to be the Great American Novel, either. I mean, it'd be great if I could one day produce that, but everything fictional I've ever tried to do comes out as some kind of two-bit Southern Gothic that's been soooo overdone. (I'm not Faulkner and never will be, despite the fact that I write long, rambling, yet still totally grammatically correct sentences just like he did.) I'd just be happy doing freelance shit like blogs and web content (or cover letters and resumes *wink*) and maybe the occasional article or short story and getting paid for it.
They say the hardest thing about such a job is disciplining yourself. I never claimed to have a whole bunch of self-discipline, but I HAVE been self-employed for over a year, and I'm still not living in a cardboard box on the side of the road somewhere, so I must not be doing too badly, you know what I mean? I definitely don't want to do phone sex for the rest of my life, but it's definitely taught me a lot about being an independent contractor. And, if I decided to try to write for a living, it'd be a good way to fill in the income gaps between writing gigs.
I don't know. I keep telling myself I don't have time to do it, but I actually do. It's just that when I sit down to actually look on the sites where people are advertising for writing and/or editing jobs they need done, I get all intimidated because I don't really know what's going on and overwhelmed, so I just say, "Screw it, I can't do this."
I really need to get off my ass, do some research, and seriously try to do this if it's what I want to do. I'm kind of tired of just drifting around and waiting to see what happens next. I feel like I've done that most of my life, and I've kind of outgrown it by now.
Yes, I know this blog has nothing to do with being a slave, but J. always wants to know what's on my mind, and this is what's on my mind today. ;)
I would LOVE to never have a "real" job by most people's standards. I'd love to make enough money doing something I a.) loved and b.) was good at that I could have all the things I needed and most of the things I wanted and never have to worry about being a burden on someone ever again. I'd love to be able to make a career out of writing and be able to make time for B. and J., my friends, my horses (both the ones I own now and the ones I'm going to own in the future), and the family members I can tolerate.
I just have a godawful time focusing on anything for any length of time, and that drives me nuts about myself.
For someone who blogs as much as I do, I'm not really into reading them. Of course, that could be because I DO blog all the time, so reading them isn't generally appealing. I only read J.'s and Cake Wrecks because it's hilarious and makes me feel sooooo much better about my own pitiful attempts at decorating cakes. (Don't ask. Seriously.)
Since I finally finished a bunch of crap for work and the cover letter for the job B. is applying for, I can actually blog now.
People ask me a lot of times what I want to do if I ever finish my freaking master's. My normal reply is something along the lines of "I haven't made up my mind yet." I'm lying, of course. I know exactly what I want to do, but telling the truth either gets strange looks from people who don't know me well or lectures about how "that's not a real job" from people who do (i.e., my mother).
I want to write.
There are other things that have passed through my mind, of course. At one time, before I got old and fat and out-of-shape and all beat up from falling off so many horses through the years, I wanted to be a professional horse trainer. There might've been a time when I could've done it, but that time has long since passed.
But ever since I was about 12 or so, I've wanted to write. It's all I'm really remotely good at, and why waste a God-given talent, right? And, too, everything else I've ever thought I've wanted to do has basically been a way to make a whole bunch of horses so I could do what? Retire young, live on a farm out in the country with my horses, and, well...write.
It doesn't have to be the Great American Novel, either. I mean, it'd be great if I could one day produce that, but everything fictional I've ever tried to do comes out as some kind of two-bit Southern Gothic that's been soooo overdone. (I'm not Faulkner and never will be, despite the fact that I write long, rambling, yet still totally grammatically correct sentences just like he did.) I'd just be happy doing freelance shit like blogs and web content (or cover letters and resumes *wink*) and maybe the occasional article or short story and getting paid for it.
They say the hardest thing about such a job is disciplining yourself. I never claimed to have a whole bunch of self-discipline, but I HAVE been self-employed for over a year, and I'm still not living in a cardboard box on the side of the road somewhere, so I must not be doing too badly, you know what I mean? I definitely don't want to do phone sex for the rest of my life, but it's definitely taught me a lot about being an independent contractor. And, if I decided to try to write for a living, it'd be a good way to fill in the income gaps between writing gigs.
I don't know. I keep telling myself I don't have time to do it, but I actually do. It's just that when I sit down to actually look on the sites where people are advertising for writing and/or editing jobs they need done, I get all intimidated because I don't really know what's going on and overwhelmed, so I just say, "Screw it, I can't do this."
I really need to get off my ass, do some research, and seriously try to do this if it's what I want to do. I'm kind of tired of just drifting around and waiting to see what happens next. I feel like I've done that most of my life, and I've kind of outgrown it by now.
Yes, I know this blog has nothing to do with being a slave, but J. always wants to know what's on my mind, and this is what's on my mind today. ;)
I would LOVE to never have a "real" job by most people's standards. I'd love to make enough money doing something I a.) loved and b.) was good at that I could have all the things I needed and most of the things I wanted and never have to worry about being a burden on someone ever again. I'd love to be able to make a career out of writing and be able to make time for B. and J., my friends, my horses (both the ones I own now and the ones I'm going to own in the future), and the family members I can tolerate.
I just have a godawful time focusing on anything for any length of time, and that drives me nuts about myself.
Monday, March 23, 2009
Random Ramblings
I have good news. My "accountant" did my taxes for me today because my last 1099 FINALLY showed up. So I paid absolutely nothing in income taxes this year, not state, not federal, not Social Security, nothing. But through some sheer stroke of dumb luck and a good bit of creative accounting, I'm getting back a $43 refund, LOL!
I'm also filing a return I didn't file a couple of years ago because it got lost in one of the hundred times I moved, so I'm going to get a wee bit more than that back. Not enough to amount to anything, really, but at least I don't have to worry about how I'm going to come up with the money to PAY taxes, which I was worried sick about. Give me about three or four $500+ weeks, and I shouldn't have any worries. I might even be able to take classes this summer after all! (Maybe.)
I think I'm going to fire up my old NF accounts again. Might as well. They're all approved, and all my bank information on them is approved, so I can start getting daily deposits for whatever I make. I make enough money with my company to pay my bills, but sometimes it gets hard to buy food or gas or just a little something I actually want, for once. So maybe I can pay bills from my company and get extras from NF. Or something. *Crosses fingers*
That's the good news. The bad news is, I'm probably going to have to hide a body soon.
My friend K. is married to quite possibly the biggest jackass on the planet. (My friends have this habit of marrying idiots. I've never quite understood it. They could all do MUCH better.) He pissed me off the other night when I was over at their house with a couple of his comments about B. Apparently, Mr. Jealous thinks B. is trying to steal K. away from him because he talks to her on Yahoo sometimes....I don't know. It's a bunch of childish drama shit that I was doing my best not to be pulled into. I bit my tongue and kept my thoughts to myself.
Until today. Apparently, last night, Mr. Jealous picked this huge fight with K. about MY Master. Whom, by the way, neither of them have ever fucking met before, just for the record. How he doesn't want K. talking to B. anymore and how it's "inappropriate," blah, blah, blah. He said some ugly things about both B. and me and reduced K. to a crying mess. Then, bless her heart, K. didn't even have anyone to talk to about it because none of her friends understood, and she didn't want to call me because she didn't want to upset me.
Fuck that. Of course, I'm going to be upset. Not for the reasons that she thought I'd be upset, but because, while I'll let people go really, really far in fucking with me, I'm a mite touchy about my friends. He's being an irrational asshole and hurt K. over something that really isn't important, honestly. I mean, damn, if B. were trying to do some shit, don't you think I'd be concerned, too? The man has his hands full with J. and me!
I've half a mind to go over there and just smile sweetly in his face and ask in my most polite voice if he has anything he'd like to discuss with me. He wouldn't have the balls to say anything, of course. I hate bastards like that. Either man up or shut the fuck up about it.
I'm ranting now, and I know it. But it's bullshit drama that's totally unnecessary. I don't do drama. I told K. to feel free to come over anytime she needed to to get away from that shit and that if he followed her, he could confront the business end of my shotgun. That was all I knew to do. But it's still all bullshit, and it upsets me that she's upset, and I kind of feel like I'm responsible in a way.
Yay for carrying responsibility for everything on my shoulders.
Ugh. Ok. Back to work.
* * * *
On a more upbeat note...my friend R.'s slave (one of them; he has two) posted this on a message board we all frequent.
I thought about it for awhile, and then I replied back with this. I don't know why, but I thought B. and J. might like to read it.
I don't think I can ever know the real answers to those questions for myself. I know what I have to believe in order to preserve my own sanity sometimes. I don't expect anyone else to believe as I do.
I'm not prone to fits of romanticism. Anyone who knows me knows that. But I do not believe my being a slave was a coincidence or some happy accident of brain chemistry. I believe it was my destiny, chosen for me before my birth, whether by me, God in one or more of His various forms, or some combination thereof. (We won't go into my weird spiritual beliefs here.)
I was born to be a slave. My destiny is to serve, in some capacity or other. But not to serve everyone or most or even a handful of people. I think I'm here for a specific purpose. Master and Mistress, of course, are the specific purpose, and they are the ones who are the operators of the tool that is me.
I never had any idea about what I was until I met Master. None. I knew I was kinky, knew I had serious masochistic leanings, but one can have those things without having a submissive bone in one's body. I believed I was too intelligent, too independent, too capable, and had too much to do with my life to ever surrender myself like that.
I have never been more wrong about anything in my entire life.
And, then, when I met Mistress, it all fell into place. Even when I had Master, there was still a hole inside me. It took both of them to fill it. Maybe I am too intelligent, too independent, too capable, and have too much to do with my life to surrender myself to one person. So the Universe gave me to both of them and wished them the best of luck in dealing with me.
The people who say that submission is a process...well, I think they're wrong. It's a process in that it's an ongoing internal struggle, but I think when one who is meant to be a slave finds his/her Owner(s), there is no escaping that destiny. I think that no matter what happens, no matter how hard you try to run from it, you'll always be pulled back to it by some strange sort of gravity that's stronger than you are.
This is more than me. This is more than Master. This is more than Mistress. This is something that was decided a long time ago. They are the ones who use me for whatever good they're going to use me for. We just have to shut up and comply with destiny at this point.
I'm not a slave. I'm their slave. I always have been. The problem was, I haven't always known it. Now I know. And in spite of how hard it might be for me at times, I'll never escape this destiny. Nor will I ever truly want to.
Also, happy 5,000th post to me.
I'm also filing a return I didn't file a couple of years ago because it got lost in one of the hundred times I moved, so I'm going to get a wee bit more than that back. Not enough to amount to anything, really, but at least I don't have to worry about how I'm going to come up with the money to PAY taxes, which I was worried sick about. Give me about three or four $500+ weeks, and I shouldn't have any worries. I might even be able to take classes this summer after all! (Maybe.)
I think I'm going to fire up my old NF accounts again. Might as well. They're all approved, and all my bank information on them is approved, so I can start getting daily deposits for whatever I make. I make enough money with my company to pay my bills, but sometimes it gets hard to buy food or gas or just a little something I actually want, for once. So maybe I can pay bills from my company and get extras from NF. Or something. *Crosses fingers*
That's the good news. The bad news is, I'm probably going to have to hide a body soon.
My friend K. is married to quite possibly the biggest jackass on the planet. (My friends have this habit of marrying idiots. I've never quite understood it. They could all do MUCH better.) He pissed me off the other night when I was over at their house with a couple of his comments about B. Apparently, Mr. Jealous thinks B. is trying to steal K. away from him because he talks to her on Yahoo sometimes....I don't know. It's a bunch of childish drama shit that I was doing my best not to be pulled into. I bit my tongue and kept my thoughts to myself.
Until today. Apparently, last night, Mr. Jealous picked this huge fight with K. about MY Master. Whom, by the way, neither of them have ever fucking met before, just for the record. How he doesn't want K. talking to B. anymore and how it's "inappropriate," blah, blah, blah. He said some ugly things about both B. and me and reduced K. to a crying mess. Then, bless her heart, K. didn't even have anyone to talk to about it because none of her friends understood, and she didn't want to call me because she didn't want to upset me.
Fuck that. Of course, I'm going to be upset. Not for the reasons that she thought I'd be upset, but because, while I'll let people go really, really far in fucking with me, I'm a mite touchy about my friends. He's being an irrational asshole and hurt K. over something that really isn't important, honestly. I mean, damn, if B. were trying to do some shit, don't you think I'd be concerned, too? The man has his hands full with J. and me!
I've half a mind to go over there and just smile sweetly in his face and ask in my most polite voice if he has anything he'd like to discuss with me. He wouldn't have the balls to say anything, of course. I hate bastards like that. Either man up or shut the fuck up about it.
I'm ranting now, and I know it. But it's bullshit drama that's totally unnecessary. I don't do drama. I told K. to feel free to come over anytime she needed to to get away from that shit and that if he followed her, he could confront the business end of my shotgun. That was all I knew to do. But it's still all bullshit, and it upsets me that she's upset, and I kind of feel like I'm responsible in a way.
Yay for carrying responsibility for everything on my shoulders.
Ugh. Ok. Back to work.
* * * *
On a more upbeat note...my friend R.'s slave (one of them; he has two) posted this on a message board we all frequent.
how is one a "slave"?
are you born a slave? do you become a slave? are you made into a slave?
did somebody train you, teach you, mold you? or was it always there inside of you?
is there an on/off switch? you werent, until suddenly something clicked and you were? once the switch flips, is it stuck in on, or can it slide back?
can you be a slave without a master?
can you decide you are a slave no longer, or is that as useless as "deciding" not to be short anymore?
is it who you are no matter what, or who you are in the situation you are in?
how is one a "slave"?
are you born a slave? do you become a slave? are you made into a slave?
did somebody train you, teach you, mold you? or was it always there inside of you?
is there an on/off switch? you werent, until suddenly something clicked and you were? once the switch flips, is it stuck in on, or can it slide back?
can you be a slave without a master?
can you decide you are a slave no longer, or is that as useless as "deciding" not to be short anymore?
is it who you are no matter what, or who you are in the situation you are in?
how is one a "slave"?
I thought about it for awhile, and then I replied back with this. I don't know why, but I thought B. and J. might like to read it.
I don't think I can ever know the real answers to those questions for myself. I know what I have to believe in order to preserve my own sanity sometimes. I don't expect anyone else to believe as I do.
I'm not prone to fits of romanticism. Anyone who knows me knows that. But I do not believe my being a slave was a coincidence or some happy accident of brain chemistry. I believe it was my destiny, chosen for me before my birth, whether by me, God in one or more of His various forms, or some combination thereof. (We won't go into my weird spiritual beliefs here.)
I was born to be a slave. My destiny is to serve, in some capacity or other. But not to serve everyone or most or even a handful of people. I think I'm here for a specific purpose. Master and Mistress, of course, are the specific purpose, and they are the ones who are the operators of the tool that is me.
I never had any idea about what I was until I met Master. None. I knew I was kinky, knew I had serious masochistic leanings, but one can have those things without having a submissive bone in one's body. I believed I was too intelligent, too independent, too capable, and had too much to do with my life to ever surrender myself like that.
I have never been more wrong about anything in my entire life.
And, then, when I met Mistress, it all fell into place. Even when I had Master, there was still a hole inside me. It took both of them to fill it. Maybe I am too intelligent, too independent, too capable, and have too much to do with my life to surrender myself to one person. So the Universe gave me to both of them and wished them the best of luck in dealing with me.
The people who say that submission is a process...well, I think they're wrong. It's a process in that it's an ongoing internal struggle, but I think when one who is meant to be a slave finds his/her Owner(s), there is no escaping that destiny. I think that no matter what happens, no matter how hard you try to run from it, you'll always be pulled back to it by some strange sort of gravity that's stronger than you are.
This is more than me. This is more than Master. This is more than Mistress. This is something that was decided a long time ago. They are the ones who use me for whatever good they're going to use me for. We just have to shut up and comply with destiny at this point.
I'm not a slave. I'm their slave. I always have been. The problem was, I haven't always known it. Now I know. And in spite of how hard it might be for me at times, I'll never escape this destiny. Nor will I ever truly want to.
Also, happy 5,000th post to me.
Sunday, March 22, 2009
Soooo...Why Am I Seven?
I know J. doesn't believe it, but the little girl thing really does come and go. I'm not ALWAYS little. Really. I swear. No, seriously.
I just kind of can't get rid of it lately for some reason. I'm the perpetual seven-year-old. *Pouts*
Lucky for me, B. and J. think it's kind of cute.
I keep fantasizing about being tied up. But, no, not for kinky sex. (OMG, write it down. Slave-girl's not fantasizing about kinky sex!!!!!!!!!!) I just want to be tied up between the two of them, securely, but comfortably, so I can lie that way for a long time without whining that I can't feel my arms anymore or whatever. Then, I just want to be snuggled and petted and kissed and talked to. Kinky sex, of course, is optional. :D
B. mentioned tying me up and spoon-feeding me and talking to me like a little girl again, like they did one night. Well, J.'s the one who fed me, but they both talked to me like I was little. Yeah, that should not have made me as happy as it did.
I'm not sure why, when I'm feeling insecure, being seven makes me feel safer and more secure, but it does. Master and Mistress have the only seven-year-old service pet on the planet. I really do live to please them, even if I do sort of have a few bumps along the way every now and then.
I wonder what a collar for a seven-year-old would look like? *Giggles stupidly*
I just kind of can't get rid of it lately for some reason. I'm the perpetual seven-year-old. *Pouts*
Lucky for me, B. and J. think it's kind of cute.
I keep fantasizing about being tied up. But, no, not for kinky sex. (OMG, write it down. Slave-girl's not fantasizing about kinky sex!!!!!!!!!!) I just want to be tied up between the two of them, securely, but comfortably, so I can lie that way for a long time without whining that I can't feel my arms anymore or whatever. Then, I just want to be snuggled and petted and kissed and talked to. Kinky sex, of course, is optional. :D
B. mentioned tying me up and spoon-feeding me and talking to me like a little girl again, like they did one night. Well, J.'s the one who fed me, but they both talked to me like I was little. Yeah, that should not have made me as happy as it did.
I'm not sure why, when I'm feeling insecure, being seven makes me feel safer and more secure, but it does. Master and Mistress have the only seven-year-old service pet on the planet. I really do live to please them, even if I do sort of have a few bumps along the way every now and then.
I wonder what a collar for a seven-year-old would look like? *Giggles stupidly*
Saturday, March 21, 2009
This Is A Fantastic Procrastination Tool
I should be doing things for work, but I'm not. So here I am.
Let me first and foremost say that I'm very happy. I don't want whatever rambling I may do in this blog to make anyone think otherwise.
It's a constant struggle for me not to give in to the old fears and just run as far and as fast as my feet will carry me. Even if I know it'd be the stupidest thing ever. By now, it's instinct, and it's hard not to just give in to it.
Seriously. My longest "relationship" ever was only a year and a half. And that was only because about half of it was spent with him far enough away to be out of my hair most of the time. I think the longest time I ever spent with someone within shooting distance was about 8 months or so. I get antsy. My feet start itching. I don't understand it. But I can't help it.
So over the last four or five years or so, I've gone for the dysfunctional in order to avoid any sort of mess. Well, at least any sort of mess on my side, anyway. Star of my own one-woman soap opera, I always say.
I sort of have this habit of having everything I touch turn to shit. The exact opposite of the Midas touch. No matter how well something's going, if you get me involved, it's probably going to go straight to hell, with or without the handbasket.
I sort of have this compulsion to protect people from me. I've (accidentally) hurt enough people to last a lifetime, and I have no desire to do it again. Of course, if you warn people, it's not like they take you seriously. So I just sort of try to stay a safe distance away and cut ties when it starts getting to be too much.
The desire to do so right now is overwhelming. I'd rather slit my own throat than hurt Master or Mistress.
The thing is, I know that leaving will hurt them, too. In the past, I've been able to justify that by telling myself it'd hurt the other person less if I went ahead and did the noble thing and walked away than to stay and ride it 'til its inevitable and far messier end.
The very first day I met J., we were talking about music, country music to be specific. Of course, like every good redneck, I love country music. We started talking about Kenny Chesney, and she brought up his song, "Better as a Memory." All I could think was how ironic that was because I'd always thought that song may as well have been about me, only with the need to make the male pronouns females and vice-versa.
My biggest fear is that no matter what I'll do, I'll hurt B. and J. It's kind of what I do to people, even though I don't mean to.
Let me first and foremost say that I'm very happy. I don't want whatever rambling I may do in this blog to make anyone think otherwise.
It's a constant struggle for me not to give in to the old fears and just run as far and as fast as my feet will carry me. Even if I know it'd be the stupidest thing ever. By now, it's instinct, and it's hard not to just give in to it.
Seriously. My longest "relationship" ever was only a year and a half. And that was only because about half of it was spent with him far enough away to be out of my hair most of the time. I think the longest time I ever spent with someone within shooting distance was about 8 months or so. I get antsy. My feet start itching. I don't understand it. But I can't help it.
So over the last four or five years or so, I've gone for the dysfunctional in order to avoid any sort of mess. Well, at least any sort of mess on my side, anyway. Star of my own one-woman soap opera, I always say.
I sort of have this habit of having everything I touch turn to shit. The exact opposite of the Midas touch. No matter how well something's going, if you get me involved, it's probably going to go straight to hell, with or without the handbasket.
I sort of have this compulsion to protect people from me. I've (accidentally) hurt enough people to last a lifetime, and I have no desire to do it again. Of course, if you warn people, it's not like they take you seriously. So I just sort of try to stay a safe distance away and cut ties when it starts getting to be too much.
The desire to do so right now is overwhelming. I'd rather slit my own throat than hurt Master or Mistress.
The thing is, I know that leaving will hurt them, too. In the past, I've been able to justify that by telling myself it'd hurt the other person less if I went ahead and did the noble thing and walked away than to stay and ride it 'til its inevitable and far messier end.
The very first day I met J., we were talking about music, country music to be specific. Of course, like every good redneck, I love country music. We started talking about Kenny Chesney, and she brought up his song, "Better as a Memory." All I could think was how ironic that was because I'd always thought that song may as well have been about me, only with the need to make the male pronouns females and vice-versa.
My biggest fear is that no matter what I'll do, I'll hurt B. and J. It's kind of what I do to people, even though I don't mean to.
Friday, March 20, 2009
Meh
This isn't going to be much of a blog, either. I'm kind of down. I miss B. and J. a lot. And unless I suddenly get a rash of calls in the next hour and a half, I'm not going to have the money to come see them for a couple of weeks.
Very.
Unhappy.
Slave.
Girl.
Whatever, I'm going to troll my ass off now. Maybe some idiot will call and spend a lot of money on me, and the point will be moot. At least, I hope so.
Very.
Unhappy.
Slave.
Girl.
Whatever, I'm going to troll my ass off now. Maybe some idiot will call and spend a lot of money on me, and the point will be moot. At least, I hope so.
Thursday, March 19, 2009
Long Day
It is 9:40 pm, and I am just now getting a chance to sit down and work on this blog. (Sorry, J., your story will have to wait another day.) I'm so sorry. :(
I had an hour-long call, followed almost immediately by a 30-min call. J. will, however, be pleased to hear what I did after those calls. I made myself a new dessert, AND I seriously (not half-assed) cooked tonight. I was for real craving the redneck food for some reason.
I doubt this blog will be very long. My back is killing me, so when I finish my food, I'm going to go soak in the bathtub for awhile. Then, I'll stay logged in all night working. If I can make probably $200 more between now and midnight tomorrow, I can pay my rent and my credit card bill out of the same check for once. *Happy dance*
Ok, enough rambling. I just wanted to say J.'s blog last night made me really, really happy. I mean, I understand her concerns, and I admit to having some of the same. I'll probably post more about this when my back isn't hurting so badly that I can't sit up anymore, LOL. But what made me REALLY happy was knowing how she feels about me.
I'm special to Mattress! I'm special to Mattress!
Ok, I'm over it. Well, no, not really. I'm secretly doing the super-happy dance inside, but I'm trying to appear at least a little aloof and mysterious and stuff.
Now, if you'll pardon me, I'm going to have a lovely slice of cherry cream cheese pie and then go hang out in my bathtub for a bit with my glass of lemonade with orange slices (sounds gross, but it's fabulous). I'm sorry this wasn't longer, but I got overwhelmed with doing crap today, like cleaning my kitchen. I will do my best to have J.'s story done soon. :)
I had an hour-long call, followed almost immediately by a 30-min call. J. will, however, be pleased to hear what I did after those calls. I made myself a new dessert, AND I seriously (not half-assed) cooked tonight. I was for real craving the redneck food for some reason.
I doubt this blog will be very long. My back is killing me, so when I finish my food, I'm going to go soak in the bathtub for awhile. Then, I'll stay logged in all night working. If I can make probably $200 more between now and midnight tomorrow, I can pay my rent and my credit card bill out of the same check for once. *Happy dance*
Ok, enough rambling. I just wanted to say J.'s blog last night made me really, really happy. I mean, I understand her concerns, and I admit to having some of the same. I'll probably post more about this when my back isn't hurting so badly that I can't sit up anymore, LOL. But what made me REALLY happy was knowing how she feels about me.
I'm special to Mattress! I'm special to Mattress!
Ok, I'm over it. Well, no, not really. I'm secretly doing the super-happy dance inside, but I'm trying to appear at least a little aloof and mysterious and stuff.
Now, if you'll pardon me, I'm going to have a lovely slice of cherry cream cheese pie and then go hang out in my bathtub for a bit with my glass of lemonade with orange slices (sounds gross, but it's fabulous). I'm sorry this wasn't longer, but I got overwhelmed with doing crap today, like cleaning my kitchen. I will do my best to have J.'s story done soon. :)
Monday, March 16, 2009
An Idea :)
Soooo...this is for J. Go take a look at my MySpace blog. ;)
Anyway, I feel much better today. I am, however, considering "running away," just so I can be abducted from my apartment later. :D I know, bad slave girl.
I was going to go home today, but it took, oh, practically nothing to convince me to stay until tomorrow. I'm easy. In more ways than one. ;)
I had a random thought last night after I went to bed. In two or three weeks, after I get my credit card bill, next month's rent, and taxes paid (which may take awhile because I STILL haven't gotten that one stupid 1099, though I did email her about it again today), I think I'm going to have a *certain* boy and a *certain* girl come over one Friday afternoon/evening/night/whatever when none of us have anything better to do.
Then, I can take them to eat at the Best. Chinese. Restaurant. Ever. (Ok, maybe not the best ever, but it actually IS on the Top 100 Chinese Restaurants in the US list in the Asian fusion category. Yum.) Then, maybe a movie, and then, maybe they can meet my friend K. (who apparently refuses to leave J'ville for anything nowadays *growl*). And possibly play! :D Well, assuming K.'s idiot husband isn't being, well, an idiot.
*Giggle* I just realized I'm making plans to take my Master and Mistress on a date. I can't decide if that's cute or weird. :p
We were all too tired to play last night. I definitely want to play tonight! But, God, my whole body aches. Not just my tender places, either. My muscles are sooo sore.
Ok, I have to go work now. This blog gives me way too much procrastination time.
Anyway, I feel much better today. I am, however, considering "running away," just so I can be abducted from my apartment later. :D I know, bad slave girl.
I was going to go home today, but it took, oh, practically nothing to convince me to stay until tomorrow. I'm easy. In more ways than one. ;)
I had a random thought last night after I went to bed. In two or three weeks, after I get my credit card bill, next month's rent, and taxes paid (which may take awhile because I STILL haven't gotten that one stupid 1099, though I did email her about it again today), I think I'm going to have a *certain* boy and a *certain* girl come over one Friday afternoon/evening/night/whatever when none of us have anything better to do.
Then, I can take them to eat at the Best. Chinese. Restaurant. Ever. (Ok, maybe not the best ever, but it actually IS on the Top 100 Chinese Restaurants in the US list in the Asian fusion category. Yum.) Then, maybe a movie, and then, maybe they can meet my friend K. (who apparently refuses to leave J'ville for anything nowadays *growl*). And possibly play! :D Well, assuming K.'s idiot husband isn't being, well, an idiot.
*Giggle* I just realized I'm making plans to take my Master and Mistress on a date. I can't decide if that's cute or weird. :p
We were all too tired to play last night. I definitely want to play tonight! But, God, my whole body aches. Not just my tender places, either. My muscles are sooo sore.
Ok, I have to go work now. This blog gives me way too much procrastination time.
Sunday, March 15, 2009
I Might Be Over My Drama Now
I almost posted just a single line, but then I decided it probably wouldn't make a whole lot of sense unless I explained it. So, yay, another long slave-girl blog. I'm sure everyone is just thrilled. :p
I got really, really overwhelmed last night. Way overwhelmed. I realized just how much I need J. and B. to be happy, and that scared me to death. After they went to sleep last night, I lay in bed, texting back and forth with my ex. He's a dumbass sometimes, but when he pulls his head out of his ass, he gives really good advice.
Commitment-phobe that I am, I was within a hair's breadth of packing all my stuff while they slept, leaving a note or email that said, "I'm so sorry," and disappearing into the night. But he wouldn't let me. He kept sending me messages and arguing with me back and forth until I was too exhausted to do anything other than fall asleep. I know I say mean things about him sometimes, and he can be a raging asshole, too, but last night, he said, "You know, I know if I let you leave there, I could have you back. But you need them, and they need you, and I'm not fucking letting you walk away."
Then, this morning after J. went to work, B. forced me to talk. (I hate how he can read me sometimes.) I feel a lot better now. I think I'm over my drama. I may still be afraid at times, but I don't think I'll ever seriously contemplate leaving again. I really do need them both too much.
It's just weird how quickly it's all happened and how intense it is. I never expected this. And this needy, clingy feeling I get sometimes is so not me at all.
I'm not typical slave material, by any stretch of the imagination. Which is why a man who thinks farts are one of the funniest things on the planet and a woman who calls herself "Mattress" half the time are perfect for me. I don't have much going for me, either. I think car horns are hilarious for some reason, and I want one of my hypothetical collars to have a "Mattress's Laundry Bitch" tag on it. C'est la vie.
I didn't sleep well last night at all. So I think I'm going to go put the rest of dishes in the dishwasher for Mattre--err, Mistress--and go take a quick nap before she comes home. I doubt either of them want me falling asleep while I'm trying to eat.
But, anyway, for the single line (or maybe two) I was thinking about posting at the beginning of this blog, I think I'll say it now. I don't say it out loud for fear of freaking out Mattre...Mistress, but I need to say it somewhere.
I love Master and Mistress. That is all.
Edited to add: I think I got the comments on this thing fixed, so J. can leave me comments. She can also feel free to post another one of her blogs, too. *Ahem* ;) And she and B. both need to sign into their accounts and add me as a friend already. *Double ahem*
I got really, really overwhelmed last night. Way overwhelmed. I realized just how much I need J. and B. to be happy, and that scared me to death. After they went to sleep last night, I lay in bed, texting back and forth with my ex. He's a dumbass sometimes, but when he pulls his head out of his ass, he gives really good advice.
Commitment-phobe that I am, I was within a hair's breadth of packing all my stuff while they slept, leaving a note or email that said, "I'm so sorry," and disappearing into the night. But he wouldn't let me. He kept sending me messages and arguing with me back and forth until I was too exhausted to do anything other than fall asleep. I know I say mean things about him sometimes, and he can be a raging asshole, too, but last night, he said, "You know, I know if I let you leave there, I could have you back. But you need them, and they need you, and I'm not fucking letting you walk away."
Then, this morning after J. went to work, B. forced me to talk. (I hate how he can read me sometimes.) I feel a lot better now. I think I'm over my drama. I may still be afraid at times, but I don't think I'll ever seriously contemplate leaving again. I really do need them both too much.
It's just weird how quickly it's all happened and how intense it is. I never expected this. And this needy, clingy feeling I get sometimes is so not me at all.
I'm not typical slave material, by any stretch of the imagination. Which is why a man who thinks farts are one of the funniest things on the planet and a woman who calls herself "Mattress" half the time are perfect for me. I don't have much going for me, either. I think car horns are hilarious for some reason, and I want one of my hypothetical collars to have a "Mattress's Laundry Bitch" tag on it. C'est la vie.
I didn't sleep well last night at all. So I think I'm going to go put the rest of dishes in the dishwasher for Mattre--err, Mistress--and go take a quick nap before she comes home. I doubt either of them want me falling asleep while I'm trying to eat.
But, anyway, for the single line (or maybe two) I was thinking about posting at the beginning of this blog, I think I'll say it now. I don't say it out loud for fear of freaking out Mattre...Mistress, but I need to say it somewhere.
I love Master and Mistress. That is all.
Edited to add: I think I got the comments on this thing fixed, so J. can leave me comments. She can also feel free to post another one of her blogs, too. *Ahem* ;) And she and B. both need to sign into their accounts and add me as a friend already. *Double ahem*
Saturday, March 14, 2009
Upon Further Reflection
I was restless and couldn't sleep this morning after J. and B. left. So, like a little kid, I went to go sleep in their bed. Yes, I'm cheesy like that. But I was able to sleep a couple more hours, so it worked.
Now, I'm on the phone with tickle fetish guy. I've been fake laughing for right at an hour. My stomach and face are aching. I think I might die. Is it possible to die from fake giggling too long? I'm so gonna be late for dinner with my friend. I haven't even showered yet. Stupid bastard.
OMFG. He extended again. Can I please go shoot myself now?
Ok, it's done. Seventy freaking minutes total. I guess I shouldn't complain because it's the only call I've had today, but I'm exhausted.
And since it's 4:47, and I'm supposed to meet her at 5:00, I'm going to have to save this and finish when I get back. *Sigh*
* * * *
And, ok, I'm back. Finally. One more screaming young'un, and I might've hurt someone.
Anyway, while I was trying to get back to sleep this morning, I was thinking about what J. said yesterday to me. I suck at recalling exact wording, but it was something like "I think you feel the same way about the c-word that I feel about the l-word."
She's right.
When I was out with my friend earlier, we went to Tarzhay after we ate. We kind of wandered around looking at things, killing time more than anything. Her husband was looking for a pair of sleep pants, so we were kind of just standing there idly in the men's clothes. I saw her eyes light on something, and I raised an eyebrow and asked what she'd found. She reached over and presented me with a pair of men's boxer shorts. "Here," she said, "you need these!" I was confused for a second before I read the sentence printed on them.
"I have commitment issues."
Goddammit. These people know me entirely too well. And I haven't seen this particular friend in months, but she knows me well enough to know I haven't changed in that amount of time. *Sigh*
Seriously. Love me, I don't care. Love is, 99.999999% of the time, a fleeting thing. People can love me, and I console myself by thinking, "Oh, well, they'll get over it eventually." But try to make me think farther ahead than plans for next weekend? Nope. I don't do that. Ever. I'm 25 years old and have turned down not one but two engagement rings already. Yes. Seriously.
At the risk of sounding like an asshole--but this is my blog, and I'll sound like an asshole if I want to--, I think that was part of the attraction to B. for a long time. I could have some of the things I needed some of the time, but because he had J., I could keep a safe distance from it the rest of the time.
But it's here now and intense and the problem is, it's normally something I would run from. This time, I don't want to run, but the old instinct is still there.
Blech. I swear, I don't normally have all this inner drama. I know that's what y'all are thinking, though. Once I work through all my initial issues, I'll probably never have any more for the rest of my life.
In my blog the other day, I said I wouldn't have time to devote to other relationships if I had what I wanted with B. and J. Upon further reflection, I realize that's not exactly true. I can make time for things that I want to be priorities. I always have. The real thing is, I don't really want anyone else but them (aside from someone to tie up and torment occasionally, but that doesn't count, in my opinion). And that is a WEIRD feeling for me.
Is that a bad thing? Is it fair of me to want these things from them? Am I just a dork for worrying about it at all?
Now, I'm on the phone with tickle fetish guy. I've been fake laughing for right at an hour. My stomach and face are aching. I think I might die. Is it possible to die from fake giggling too long? I'm so gonna be late for dinner with my friend. I haven't even showered yet. Stupid bastard.
OMFG. He extended again. Can I please go shoot myself now?
Ok, it's done. Seventy freaking minutes total. I guess I shouldn't complain because it's the only call I've had today, but I'm exhausted.
And since it's 4:47, and I'm supposed to meet her at 5:00, I'm going to have to save this and finish when I get back. *Sigh*
* * * *
And, ok, I'm back. Finally. One more screaming young'un, and I might've hurt someone.
Anyway, while I was trying to get back to sleep this morning, I was thinking about what J. said yesterday to me. I suck at recalling exact wording, but it was something like "I think you feel the same way about the c-word that I feel about the l-word."
She's right.
When I was out with my friend earlier, we went to Tarzhay after we ate. We kind of wandered around looking at things, killing time more than anything. Her husband was looking for a pair of sleep pants, so we were kind of just standing there idly in the men's clothes. I saw her eyes light on something, and I raised an eyebrow and asked what she'd found. She reached over and presented me with a pair of men's boxer shorts. "Here," she said, "you need these!" I was confused for a second before I read the sentence printed on them.
"I have commitment issues."
Goddammit. These people know me entirely too well. And I haven't seen this particular friend in months, but she knows me well enough to know I haven't changed in that amount of time. *Sigh*
Seriously. Love me, I don't care. Love is, 99.999999% of the time, a fleeting thing. People can love me, and I console myself by thinking, "Oh, well, they'll get over it eventually." But try to make me think farther ahead than plans for next weekend? Nope. I don't do that. Ever. I'm 25 years old and have turned down not one but two engagement rings already. Yes. Seriously.
At the risk of sounding like an asshole--but this is my blog, and I'll sound like an asshole if I want to--, I think that was part of the attraction to B. for a long time. I could have some of the things I needed some of the time, but because he had J., I could keep a safe distance from it the rest of the time.
But it's here now and intense and the problem is, it's normally something I would run from. This time, I don't want to run, but the old instinct is still there.
Blech. I swear, I don't normally have all this inner drama. I know that's what y'all are thinking, though. Once I work through all my initial issues, I'll probably never have any more for the rest of my life.
In my blog the other day, I said I wouldn't have time to devote to other relationships if I had what I wanted with B. and J. Upon further reflection, I realize that's not exactly true. I can make time for things that I want to be priorities. I always have. The real thing is, I don't really want anyone else but them (aside from someone to tie up and torment occasionally, but that doesn't count, in my opinion). And that is a WEIRD feeling for me.
Is that a bad thing? Is it fair of me to want these things from them? Am I just a dork for worrying about it at all?
Thursday, March 12, 2009
Thoughts And Concerns
Why is it that every time I come to see certain people, it gets better each time? *Grins* Do they realize they're eventually going to build themselves up so much that they won't be able to surpass themselves anymore? ;)
I am incredibly happy. I say that over and over, but I like saying it. :D
But you know me. I think. Probably too much.
J. said something the other day about an official collaring. While the attention whore side of me liked the idea, my inner Ms. Commitment Issues started screaming. I wasn't really sure WHY, either. I mean, it's not that I'm not happy. I am. (Just in case no one noticed.)
So, of course, I had to think about it. And this is what I came up with.
I have never exactly been able to do the monogamy thing. I've never really even been able to do the two or three partners thing. I'm constantly getting bored, moving on to someone else, and just generally being unsatisfied.
And, to devote the kind of time I'd like to devote to Master and Mistress means I'm not going to have the time for doing the "I'm-bored-lemme-go-find-someone-else-this-sucks-I'm-bored-again" thing. Which means I have to break the cycle.
I know that playing with other people is not off the table at all. That's not what I'm worried about. I know I can do that basically whenever I want. I think it's more a matter of being afraid that the lack of multiple relationships (as opposed to people to play with) is not going to satisfy all my needs. It's not that B. and J. aren't making me happy. It's that I'm really, really complicated.
I know they're not stopping me from anything. It's more that in order for me to do what I want to do for them that I won't have the time to pursue the other options that I'm prone to pursuing. Yay for conflicting desires.
I don't think I'm making any sense again.
It's like...I'm a slave who needs a Master and a Mistress. A pet who needs owners. A little girl who needs...oh, God, I don't have anything good to go with this one. A chick who needs the people she plays with to be good friends and confidantes. And, believe it or not, a woman who sometimes needs love and the occasional romantic gesture. (Just because it hardly ever happens doesn't mean it NEVER happens.)
I hate the idea of expecting them to fulfill all those needs. It's much easier to compartmentalize.
Meh.
But I want them to do it. On the other hand, I'm afraid, too. Silly slave girl. *Rolls eyes*
*Whines* Can we fix this stupid problem in my head now please? Because that's all it is. Something stupid I've come up with in my head because I brood too much.
I still want the collar, though. Partly because my other one stains my neck. Partly because I want one I can wear all the time, in public and when I'm not with them. But mostly because I love the way it feels when they make me feel like they really, really want me. :)
I am incredibly happy. I say that over and over, but I like saying it. :D
But you know me. I think. Probably too much.
J. said something the other day about an official collaring. While the attention whore side of me liked the idea, my inner Ms. Commitment Issues started screaming. I wasn't really sure WHY, either. I mean, it's not that I'm not happy. I am. (Just in case no one noticed.)
So, of course, I had to think about it. And this is what I came up with.
I have never exactly been able to do the monogamy thing. I've never really even been able to do the two or three partners thing. I'm constantly getting bored, moving on to someone else, and just generally being unsatisfied.
And, to devote the kind of time I'd like to devote to Master and Mistress means I'm not going to have the time for doing the "I'm-bored-lemme-go-find-someone-else-this-sucks-I'm-bored-again" thing. Which means I have to break the cycle.
I know that playing with other people is not off the table at all. That's not what I'm worried about. I know I can do that basically whenever I want. I think it's more a matter of being afraid that the lack of multiple relationships (as opposed to people to play with) is not going to satisfy all my needs. It's not that B. and J. aren't making me happy. It's that I'm really, really complicated.
I know they're not stopping me from anything. It's more that in order for me to do what I want to do for them that I won't have the time to pursue the other options that I'm prone to pursuing. Yay for conflicting desires.
I don't think I'm making any sense again.
It's like...I'm a slave who needs a Master and a Mistress. A pet who needs owners. A little girl who needs...oh, God, I don't have anything good to go with this one. A chick who needs the people she plays with to be good friends and confidantes. And, believe it or not, a woman who sometimes needs love and the occasional romantic gesture. (Just because it hardly ever happens doesn't mean it NEVER happens.)
I hate the idea of expecting them to fulfill all those needs. It's much easier to compartmentalize.
Meh.
But I want them to do it. On the other hand, I'm afraid, too. Silly slave girl. *Rolls eyes*
*Whines* Can we fix this stupid problem in my head now please? Because that's all it is. Something stupid I've come up with in my head because I brood too much.
I still want the collar, though. Partly because my other one stains my neck. Partly because I want one I can wear all the time, in public and when I'm not with them. But mostly because I love the way it feels when they make me feel like they really, really want me. :)
Wednesday, March 11, 2009
Slave Girl Has Cookies!
OMG, the cookies are soooooo cute! I'm just waiting for them to cool, so I can ice them now. I bought a new kind of decorator icing that I've never tried before. I hope they turn out ok.
Then, I'm going to shower, get my stuff together, and head over to see my most favoritest people in the whole world! Yay!
So forgive me if this is short, but I'd rather hurry up and get ready, so I can go see Master and Mistress than sit here and write. :)
Then, I'm going to shower, get my stuff together, and head over to see my most favoritest people in the whole world! Yay!
So forgive me if this is short, but I'd rather hurry up and get ready, so I can go see Master and Mistress than sit here and write. :)
Attraction
J. had a special request for the blog today. So since I'm letting the teacake dough chill in the fridge before I roll it out and cut it out with my AWESOME NEW EASTER COOKIE CUTTERS, I thought I'd give this topic a whirl. (And, yes, I might be a *little* too excited about the cookie cutters.)
Soooo...attraction.
Sexual or otherwise, I am always attracted to people with strong personalities. Like attracts like, in that case. I kind of put on a dull, bland face to people most of the time, so they'll leave me the fuck alone, but I'm actually really interesting and deep when someone actually bothers to take the time to get to know me. The people I find most interesting are the ones who can actually TALK about things. And the ones who are thinkers.
As far as sexual attraction goes, it's charisma, all the way. In my life, I have been crazy attracted to just three men. Like, "I will chase you to the ends of the Earth because the chemistry between us makes me want to do insane things" attracted. Only three.
I guess you could say they all superficially resembled one another. Tall, dark hair, large build, light eyes, strong facial features, long legs, and this air of...I don't want to say "danger" because that's kind of cliched, but I don't have a good word for it. They're all relatively mellow under normal circumstances, but there's this edge underneath that says, "You do not want to fuck with me." I guess I get intrigued by that. Then, of course, they're all brilliant with similar senses of humor.
Interestingly enough, my father has all these characteristics, too. Don't get me wrong. I don't have an Electra complex, no latent sexual Daddy feelings. Not my thing, I'm afraid. But I will say that I was very lucky to have a wonderful father, which is something lots of girls, particularly submissive ones, can't really say. I guess I've spent my whole life looking for someone as awesome as my Daddy. They're few and far between.
Of these three men to whom I was wildly attracted from the very start, I managed to fall in love with two of them. (The third one and I sort of had issues.)
As far as women go, it's much different. I don't have a particular "look" I go for. Well, I don't consciously do it with men, either, but it tends to shake out that way. But I have male brain in a lot of ways and can relate to men a lot better than I can relate to women. I've almost always had more male friends than female ones.
I do not trust women. Mommy issues? Probably, but I don't think it's that relevant.
Most of the women I'm attracted to beyond "oh, she's hot, I'd do her" are also scarily brilliant, just like the men I'm attracted to. They also usually have boy brain like I do. Not always, but usually. I can relate to them better. (And there is not a single one of my female friends I wouldn't tie up and do evil, evil things to, given half a chance.) But they also tend to be more feminine than I am. In that way, I'm attracted to my opposite. I'm the most low-maintenance, failure-as-a-woman chick ever.
I've always been more comfortable riding horses or playing softball or going mud-riding or drag racing than I have been being dressed up and paraded around and doing other "girly" things. See? I don't even know what girly-girls DO, so I can't use it as an example.
And I have gone way, way off-track from where I meant to go. I wish I could blame the late hour or the fact that I'm tired and hungry, but, honestly, even under the best of circumstances, my mind wanders.
To attempt to steer this train back on its tracks, I also have to say that attraction that goes beyond the initial flash of "he/she's hot" has a weird spiritual component.
Beyond sex, the things that draw me to people and make me want to continue to be around them is very esoteric. People exhibit an...air, I guess, about them. I hesitate to say "aura" because that makes me sound all creepy and New-Agey, which I so am not. The people I most want to spend time around are the ones with a calm air. I have friends whom I love dearly, but just can't spend more than a few hours at a time with them because their air is so very chaotic that it exhausts me to be in the same room with them. (Ask me about Susan one day.)
Empathy. I have it. In spades. And it drives me to distraction.
There are certain people in the world, even if we haven't talked or been near each other lately, I can still tell when they're happy or unhappy. The connection is so deep that I can feel the same things they feel even if I don't know WHY. But these same people are the ones I long to be close to because just being near them puts me at peace. If I can sit quietly in a room with someone and not feel like I have to constantly entertain him/her like a good little Southern country hostess, then that person is the kind of person who soothes my soul.
Even when I'm happy, I'm a brooding, introverted kind of girl. My inner turmoil rarely stops altogether, and when it does, I stand up and take notice. That's not to say I'm all depressed and like to wallow in self-pity because I'm not and I don't. I think I'm a pretty happy person, generally. But the thinker inside hardly ever stops.
Oh, geez. I'm doing it again. Getting off-track, that is. Might as well consider this train of thought officially derailed.
Anyway, the kind of magnetism I feel toward very, very few people (and J. and B. are certainly included in the short list) is quite ethereal. Every now and then, I'll meet someone and feel as if I've known that person my entire life. I have all kinds of crackpot theories about why this is, but I'll not bore everyone with my odd beliefs. But I have a hard time believing that there's not a reason I meet these rare people who quiet the rage inside my soul. And that I've probably met them many, many times before.
Ugh. I just showed how weird I am. And I'm suddenly exhausted and probably didn't give J. what she wanted at all here. But I'm really, really tired for some reason, so I think I'll wait and cut the cookies out tomorrow before I go to Master and Mistress's house.
I can't wait for that! :) The cookies AND the visit, LOL!
Soooo...attraction.
Sexual or otherwise, I am always attracted to people with strong personalities. Like attracts like, in that case. I kind of put on a dull, bland face to people most of the time, so they'll leave me the fuck alone, but I'm actually really interesting and deep when someone actually bothers to take the time to get to know me. The people I find most interesting are the ones who can actually TALK about things. And the ones who are thinkers.
As far as sexual attraction goes, it's charisma, all the way. In my life, I have been crazy attracted to just three men. Like, "I will chase you to the ends of the Earth because the chemistry between us makes me want to do insane things" attracted. Only three.
I guess you could say they all superficially resembled one another. Tall, dark hair, large build, light eyes, strong facial features, long legs, and this air of...I don't want to say "danger" because that's kind of cliched, but I don't have a good word for it. They're all relatively mellow under normal circumstances, but there's this edge underneath that says, "You do not want to fuck with me." I guess I get intrigued by that. Then, of course, they're all brilliant with similar senses of humor.
Interestingly enough, my father has all these characteristics, too. Don't get me wrong. I don't have an Electra complex, no latent sexual Daddy feelings. Not my thing, I'm afraid. But I will say that I was very lucky to have a wonderful father, which is something lots of girls, particularly submissive ones, can't really say. I guess I've spent my whole life looking for someone as awesome as my Daddy. They're few and far between.
Of these three men to whom I was wildly attracted from the very start, I managed to fall in love with two of them. (The third one and I sort of had issues.)
As far as women go, it's much different. I don't have a particular "look" I go for. Well, I don't consciously do it with men, either, but it tends to shake out that way. But I have male brain in a lot of ways and can relate to men a lot better than I can relate to women. I've almost always had more male friends than female ones.
I do not trust women. Mommy issues? Probably, but I don't think it's that relevant.
Most of the women I'm attracted to beyond "oh, she's hot, I'd do her" are also scarily brilliant, just like the men I'm attracted to. They also usually have boy brain like I do. Not always, but usually. I can relate to them better. (And there is not a single one of my female friends I wouldn't tie up and do evil, evil things to, given half a chance.) But they also tend to be more feminine than I am. In that way, I'm attracted to my opposite. I'm the most low-maintenance, failure-as-a-woman chick ever.
I've always been more comfortable riding horses or playing softball or going mud-riding or drag racing than I have been being dressed up and paraded around and doing other "girly" things. See? I don't even know what girly-girls DO, so I can't use it as an example.
And I have gone way, way off-track from where I meant to go. I wish I could blame the late hour or the fact that I'm tired and hungry, but, honestly, even under the best of circumstances, my mind wanders.
To attempt to steer this train back on its tracks, I also have to say that attraction that goes beyond the initial flash of "he/she's hot" has a weird spiritual component.
Beyond sex, the things that draw me to people and make me want to continue to be around them is very esoteric. People exhibit an...air, I guess, about them. I hesitate to say "aura" because that makes me sound all creepy and New-Agey, which I so am not. The people I most want to spend time around are the ones with a calm air. I have friends whom I love dearly, but just can't spend more than a few hours at a time with them because their air is so very chaotic that it exhausts me to be in the same room with them. (Ask me about Susan one day.)
Empathy. I have it. In spades. And it drives me to distraction.
There are certain people in the world, even if we haven't talked or been near each other lately, I can still tell when they're happy or unhappy. The connection is so deep that I can feel the same things they feel even if I don't know WHY. But these same people are the ones I long to be close to because just being near them puts me at peace. If I can sit quietly in a room with someone and not feel like I have to constantly entertain him/her like a good little Southern country hostess, then that person is the kind of person who soothes my soul.
Even when I'm happy, I'm a brooding, introverted kind of girl. My inner turmoil rarely stops altogether, and when it does, I stand up and take notice. That's not to say I'm all depressed and like to wallow in self-pity because I'm not and I don't. I think I'm a pretty happy person, generally. But the thinker inside hardly ever stops.
Oh, geez. I'm doing it again. Getting off-track, that is. Might as well consider this train of thought officially derailed.
Anyway, the kind of magnetism I feel toward very, very few people (and J. and B. are certainly included in the short list) is quite ethereal. Every now and then, I'll meet someone and feel as if I've known that person my entire life. I have all kinds of crackpot theories about why this is, but I'll not bore everyone with my odd beliefs. But I have a hard time believing that there's not a reason I meet these rare people who quiet the rage inside my soul. And that I've probably met them many, many times before.
Ugh. I just showed how weird I am. And I'm suddenly exhausted and probably didn't give J. what she wanted at all here. But I'm really, really tired for some reason, so I think I'll wait and cut the cookies out tomorrow before I go to Master and Mistress's house.
I can't wait for that! :) The cookies AND the visit, LOL!
Monday, March 9, 2009
Pervasive Sexual Fantasy Of The Week
All my fantasies tend to come and go in cycles, but some of the cycles are longer than others. I'm firmly in little-girl mode right this second. Who knows who long it'll last? I've basically been fantasizing about this one for the past week or so.
The little girl is young, of course, maybe seven or eight. She shows up at her Master and Mistress's house dressed in a short skirt, a cute little top, flip-flops, and little cotton panties. Master and Mistress let her inside and tie or cuff her hands behind her back. She's led over to her pillow on the floor where she sits while her owners pet and kiss her.
After a little while of receiving attention from the two of them and kissing their feet and sucking on their fingers in return, one of them (probably Master because I'd squish Mistress) lays the little girl across his lap. Master pushes her skirt up over her hips, and Mistress pulls her panties down. Mistress notices that they're already damp, but she doesn't say anything.
Mistress goes to sit in front of the little girl to stroke her face and maybe even give her a kiss or two if she's a really good girl. Master spanks the little girl's upturned ass, not really hard or painfully, just enough to make her squirm in his lap. At the point where she's practically humping his leg, he slides his fingers between her thighs and finds her soaking wet.
He shows Mistress how wet his fingers are, which embarrasses the little girl. Who feels this good from a spanking?
They tell the little girl not to be embarrassed, and Master goes back to teasing her with his fingers. After he coaxes a couple of orgasms out of her, they help her to her feet and lead her back to the bedroom, where they tie her tightly but comfortably, probably spread-eagled, across the bed.
They kiss and pet and snuggle and tease her until she's squirming and whimpering. They make her feel soooo good and gently manipulate and coerce her into doing exactly what they want. A little pain, a whole lot petting and pleasure. They introduce her to all the wonderful things she can feel with others.
Then, they teach her how to service them, first Mistress and then Master. She is an innocent little girl who doesn't really know what to do, so she requires instructions. But she is eager and a quick learner, so she's able to please them.
Finally, after she has pleased both Master and Mistress, they play with her some more to get her ready for what comes next. The little innocent virgin girl gets her tight little girl holes opened up and fucked hard. It doesn't really matter how, with toys, with Master's cock, with Mistress's strap-on, or any combination of those choices. It's just going to hurt very badly to start with.
Then, of course, the little girl cums until she nearly passes out, but that can pretty much go without saying. Her owners untie her and take her to bed. They give her love and attention and tell her what a good little girl she is until she falls asleep.
Sooo...yeah. That's pretty much it. There's lots of room for improvisation in there, and the exact things I fantasize about having done to me vary each time, but the basic foundation remains the same.
I feel like such a pervert for writing that out. ;)
But I'm little at the moment, and I'll probably stay that way for awhile. *Blush*
The little girl is young, of course, maybe seven or eight. She shows up at her Master and Mistress's house dressed in a short skirt, a cute little top, flip-flops, and little cotton panties. Master and Mistress let her inside and tie or cuff her hands behind her back. She's led over to her pillow on the floor where she sits while her owners pet and kiss her.
After a little while of receiving attention from the two of them and kissing their feet and sucking on their fingers in return, one of them (probably Master because I'd squish Mistress) lays the little girl across his lap. Master pushes her skirt up over her hips, and Mistress pulls her panties down. Mistress notices that they're already damp, but she doesn't say anything.
Mistress goes to sit in front of the little girl to stroke her face and maybe even give her a kiss or two if she's a really good girl. Master spanks the little girl's upturned ass, not really hard or painfully, just enough to make her squirm in his lap. At the point where she's practically humping his leg, he slides his fingers between her thighs and finds her soaking wet.
He shows Mistress how wet his fingers are, which embarrasses the little girl. Who feels this good from a spanking?
They tell the little girl not to be embarrassed, and Master goes back to teasing her with his fingers. After he coaxes a couple of orgasms out of her, they help her to her feet and lead her back to the bedroom, where they tie her tightly but comfortably, probably spread-eagled, across the bed.
They kiss and pet and snuggle and tease her until she's squirming and whimpering. They make her feel soooo good and gently manipulate and coerce her into doing exactly what they want. A little pain, a whole lot petting and pleasure. They introduce her to all the wonderful things she can feel with others.
Then, they teach her how to service them, first Mistress and then Master. She is an innocent little girl who doesn't really know what to do, so she requires instructions. But she is eager and a quick learner, so she's able to please them.
Finally, after she has pleased both Master and Mistress, they play with her some more to get her ready for what comes next. The little innocent virgin girl gets her tight little girl holes opened up and fucked hard. It doesn't really matter how, with toys, with Master's cock, with Mistress's strap-on, or any combination of those choices. It's just going to hurt very badly to start with.
Then, of course, the little girl cums until she nearly passes out, but that can pretty much go without saying. Her owners untie her and take her to bed. They give her love and attention and tell her what a good little girl she is until she falls asleep.
Sooo...yeah. That's pretty much it. There's lots of room for improvisation in there, and the exact things I fantasize about having done to me vary each time, but the basic foundation remains the same.
I feel like such a pervert for writing that out. ;)
But I'm little at the moment, and I'll probably stay that way for awhile. *Blush*
Sunday, March 8, 2009
Exhausted
This is going to be a short and very uninteresting post, but I'm exhausted.
It was a long weekend. Not really a bad one, but a long one. I don't think others realize just how much being around people nonstop takes out of me. It's so tiring. No matter how much I like/respect/love/care about people, they exhaust me eventually. I need to have my recuperation time, and I. DO. NOT. GET. IT. THERE.
Also, I'm sick and whiny.
I want attention. I'm wretchedly needy. I want to be held and kissed and petted until I fall asleep. I'm not going to get any of it.
So, alas, I go snuggle with my heating pad and perhaps a large stuffed animal.
It was a long weekend. Not really a bad one, but a long one. I don't think others realize just how much being around people nonstop takes out of me. It's so tiring. No matter how much I like/respect/love/care about people, they exhaust me eventually. I need to have my recuperation time, and I. DO. NOT. GET. IT. THERE.
Also, I'm sick and whiny.
I want attention. I'm wretchedly needy. I want to be held and kissed and petted until I fall asleep. I'm not going to get any of it.
So, alas, I go snuggle with my heating pad and perhaps a large stuffed animal.
Friday, March 6, 2009
On Masochism
So since my last two posts have upset J., I'm going to stick with safe territory today. ;)
I know that a lot of times, the things I write resemble essays, but this is how I think. Sorry about that. :( Blame my girly liberal arts brain.
Like I said in my post yesterday, when I drive, I think. I can't help it; my mind wanders. And to entertain me, it usually wanders to something kind of philosophical. I can think on that longer than I can think on, like, the recipe for the world's greatest German chocolate cake or whatever. (Yes, I do make the world's greatest German chocolate cake, but that's another post for another day.)
I had a longer drive today, thus more time to think. And, God knows, since I've driven the roads between Jacksonville and New Site enough that I could do it in my sleep, so I don't exactly need a lot of brain power to pay attention to where I'm going. Add in the fact that there's very little cell phone reception between the two places, and I zone the fuck out.
Anyway, apparently, since I was thinking about the nature of submission yesterday, it logically followed that I had to think about the nature of masochism today. (See? It would be SO much easier if I could just think about cake.)
I have an easier time with the whole being a painslut thing. There literally is no other explanation than "I was born this way." I was beating myself with a hairbrush and playing bondage games before I even was old enough to start school. There was no way I was connecting that with sex. I just thought it was fun to tie my hands together with shoestrings or jump rope, and I figured out pretty quickly that whacking myself with things made me feel happy.
I started connecting it with masturbation when I was maybe 7 or 8. By the time I was 10, I had pretty elaborate self-torture rituals. Well, elaborate for someone still in grade school.
Health psychology taught me a lot about how brain chemistry works. (Yes, I'm veering off into psych major territory again. Bear with me.) That basically answered all my technical questions about my predispositions.
Basically, it's all tied to the amount of dopamine in one's brain. Dopamine is the "OMG, I'M SO FUCKING HAPPY, WHEEEEEEEEEE!!!!!!!!" neurotransmitter. It's powerful stuff. Lab rats will actually starve themselves to death for their hit of dopamine. They'll stop eating just to sit there and hit their little lever that gives them their fix. It's why heroin and narcotic pain meds are so addictive. They bond with dopamine and make the user euphoric. Endorphins are just "natural" opiates, which also bond with dopamine and do similar things.
Obviously, it varies from person to person. Some people, particularly those with naturally low dopamine levels, react heavily to things that work on dopamine receptors. I am one of those people. When I get migraines and have to take narcotics to get rid of it, I get sooo loopy. I've actually lain on my bed staring up at the ceiling crooning, "Ooh...codeine" for hours. They don't affect me like they affect normal people, LOL.
When I hurt myself, my super-endorphins kick in. I don't actually feel the pain until hours later. I fell off one of my horses once and broke my left hand, right below the pinkie, and didn't actually feel pain until I'd gotten back on the horse, ridden him, put up the horses, fed them, driven to Alex City to the emergency room, gotten x-rays and a cast, gone home, showered, and gone to bed. That was maybe 6 hours later. The only way I knew it was broken before I got the x-rays at the ER was that I couldn't move the damn thing.
I have tons of stories like that. The kicker, though, was when I found out that people with social anxiety disorder like me have lower levels of dopamine than people who don't have it. So, basically, I'm a sensation-chaser because my brain doesn't produce enough dopamine on its own. I do things besides be a painslut to get the feeling, too. (None of which are illegal or particularly dangerous. Don't worry, LOL.)
It doesn't even necessarily have to be hardcore pain, either. The biggest endorphin dump ever for me is needles. When I feel really, really shitty, I stick needles in my boobs. (I like them in other places, too, but boobs are the most convenient when you're doing it to yourself.) I can barely feel it, but my body reacts to those tiny puncture wounds the same way it would if I were stabbed multiple times, with an endorphin flood. After about 15 minutes, I'm so woozy and happy, I can barely stand up. I want with all my being to try acupuncture one day and see if it has the same effect.
So that was a long and roundabout way of getting to where I want to go here.
The moral of the story is, yes, I'm a sensation-seeker because of my brain chemistry. Yes, I've always been this way. But...and, of course, there's a but....(And an overuse of ellipses.)
When I play with Master and Mistress, the feeling I get is way more "I'm high on neurotransmitters, yayayayayay!" My masochism can be satisfied by anyone who's halfway skilled at making painsluts happy.
But there is no way that the soul-deep happiness I feel is a neat trick of brain chemistry. The peace I feel after I've been bound, beaten, and tortured by them is not the same as the "WHEEEE!!!!!" feeling I get after some random guy or girl plays with me.
At the risk of sounding all Zen Buddhist here, I have found what feeds my soul, achieved enlightenment, and attained what I'd say is the ultimate peace.
Even if I do have cognitive dissonance sometimes, I know, ultimately, that this IS what I need. My drive to analyze and understand everything might make it a little harder sometimes, but there's no doubt in my mind when I look into my Master's and Mistress's eyes and see the way they look at me and feel how much peace that brings inside me. I will be devoted to them forever.
Well, if they can put up with me that long, that is. ;)
I know that a lot of times, the things I write resemble essays, but this is how I think. Sorry about that. :( Blame my girly liberal arts brain.
Like I said in my post yesterday, when I drive, I think. I can't help it; my mind wanders. And to entertain me, it usually wanders to something kind of philosophical. I can think on that longer than I can think on, like, the recipe for the world's greatest German chocolate cake or whatever. (Yes, I do make the world's greatest German chocolate cake, but that's another post for another day.)
I had a longer drive today, thus more time to think. And, God knows, since I've driven the roads between Jacksonville and New Site enough that I could do it in my sleep, so I don't exactly need a lot of brain power to pay attention to where I'm going. Add in the fact that there's very little cell phone reception between the two places, and I zone the fuck out.
Anyway, apparently, since I was thinking about the nature of submission yesterday, it logically followed that I had to think about the nature of masochism today. (See? It would be SO much easier if I could just think about cake.)
I have an easier time with the whole being a painslut thing. There literally is no other explanation than "I was born this way." I was beating myself with a hairbrush and playing bondage games before I even was old enough to start school. There was no way I was connecting that with sex. I just thought it was fun to tie my hands together with shoestrings or jump rope, and I figured out pretty quickly that whacking myself with things made me feel happy.
I started connecting it with masturbation when I was maybe 7 or 8. By the time I was 10, I had pretty elaborate self-torture rituals. Well, elaborate for someone still in grade school.
Health psychology taught me a lot about how brain chemistry works. (Yes, I'm veering off into psych major territory again. Bear with me.) That basically answered all my technical questions about my predispositions.
Basically, it's all tied to the amount of dopamine in one's brain. Dopamine is the "OMG, I'M SO FUCKING HAPPY, WHEEEEEEEEEE!!!!!!!!" neurotransmitter. It's powerful stuff. Lab rats will actually starve themselves to death for their hit of dopamine. They'll stop eating just to sit there and hit their little lever that gives them their fix. It's why heroin and narcotic pain meds are so addictive. They bond with dopamine and make the user euphoric. Endorphins are just "natural" opiates, which also bond with dopamine and do similar things.
Obviously, it varies from person to person. Some people, particularly those with naturally low dopamine levels, react heavily to things that work on dopamine receptors. I am one of those people. When I get migraines and have to take narcotics to get rid of it, I get sooo loopy. I've actually lain on my bed staring up at the ceiling crooning, "Ooh...codeine" for hours. They don't affect me like they affect normal people, LOL.
When I hurt myself, my super-endorphins kick in. I don't actually feel the pain until hours later. I fell off one of my horses once and broke my left hand, right below the pinkie, and didn't actually feel pain until I'd gotten back on the horse, ridden him, put up the horses, fed them, driven to Alex City to the emergency room, gotten x-rays and a cast, gone home, showered, and gone to bed. That was maybe 6 hours later. The only way I knew it was broken before I got the x-rays at the ER was that I couldn't move the damn thing.
I have tons of stories like that. The kicker, though, was when I found out that people with social anxiety disorder like me have lower levels of dopamine than people who don't have it. So, basically, I'm a sensation-chaser because my brain doesn't produce enough dopamine on its own. I do things besides be a painslut to get the feeling, too. (None of which are illegal or particularly dangerous. Don't worry, LOL.)
It doesn't even necessarily have to be hardcore pain, either. The biggest endorphin dump ever for me is needles. When I feel really, really shitty, I stick needles in my boobs. (I like them in other places, too, but boobs are the most convenient when you're doing it to yourself.) I can barely feel it, but my body reacts to those tiny puncture wounds the same way it would if I were stabbed multiple times, with an endorphin flood. After about 15 minutes, I'm so woozy and happy, I can barely stand up. I want with all my being to try acupuncture one day and see if it has the same effect.
So that was a long and roundabout way of getting to where I want to go here.
The moral of the story is, yes, I'm a sensation-seeker because of my brain chemistry. Yes, I've always been this way. But...and, of course, there's a but....(And an overuse of ellipses.)
When I play with Master and Mistress, the feeling I get is way more "I'm high on neurotransmitters, yayayayayay!" My masochism can be satisfied by anyone who's halfway skilled at making painsluts happy.
But there is no way that the soul-deep happiness I feel is a neat trick of brain chemistry. The peace I feel after I've been bound, beaten, and tortured by them is not the same as the "WHEEEE!!!!!" feeling I get after some random guy or girl plays with me.
At the risk of sounding all Zen Buddhist here, I have found what feeds my soul, achieved enlightenment, and attained what I'd say is the ultimate peace.
Even if I do have cognitive dissonance sometimes, I know, ultimately, that this IS what I need. My drive to analyze and understand everything might make it a little harder sometimes, but there's no doubt in my mind when I look into my Master's and Mistress's eyes and see the way they look at me and feel how much peace that brings inside me. I will be devoted to them forever.
Well, if they can put up with me that long, that is. ;)
Thursday, March 5, 2009
Once More, With Feeling
Ugh. I had this long post written out and almost finished it, and my 'Net crashed while I was trying to preview and post it, and somehow it disappeared into the black hole of cyberspace with no trace of a saved draft. I have no clue how that happened.
Now, I'm really sleepy and less than motivated (and dreading going to my parents' this weekend), so I make no promises about the coherence of this post.
I always think a lot when I drive. Sometimes, being alone with my thoughts is nice, and sometimes, it isn't, which is why I like to drive sometimes, and other times I don't. I thought a lot today, and it wasn't really unpleasant. Just a little confusing.
I am the uber-INFP. I think way too much.
I have cognitive dissonance sometimes. (I am also the uber-psych nerd. I've already referenced two social psych things in the last few sentences.) I know that what I have with Master and Mistress makes me very happy. Master himself said today that he'd never seen me this happy.
That would be because I've never been this happy before.
But, yeah...cognitive dissonance. I know this is what I want and what I need, but sometimes I struggle with my thoughts, anyway. I wonder sometimes what made me this way. If I hadn't grown up a quiet, overly sensitive child whose IQ was at least 50 points higher than everyone else in her entire family's, thus never having anyone to relate to for years amongst the boisterous rednecks that come from where I do, would I have turned out differently? Or am I one of those people who was just born to be submissive and would've been this way no matter what the forces around me did?
To some people, it doesn't matter. Because of the way my mind works, it matters to me.
Let's be honest here. In a lot of ways, the submissive, pleasing way of relating to people is a fairly simplistic and child-like method. Did the "handling relationships" part of my brain never quite progress past the abilities of my inner seven-year-old, or what? I mean, "pet me, tell me what to do, torture me, and pet me some more, and I'll be devoted to you and love you forever" isn't really a complex way of relating to people. Or maybe I just don't have the ability to relate to people on an adult level.
Or, hell, maybe I just suck so much at being me--whatever that is--that people can only handle dealing with me with those particular parameters in place. Like, they pity me and give me attention because I appear to be so starved for it. Or something.
God, this made so much more sense the first time I wrote it out. Now, I feel like I have all this random, disjointed thoughts out there that aren't strung together well enough to make them logically follow one another.
I'll do better tomorrow.
Now, I'm really sleepy and less than motivated (and dreading going to my parents' this weekend), so I make no promises about the coherence of this post.
I always think a lot when I drive. Sometimes, being alone with my thoughts is nice, and sometimes, it isn't, which is why I like to drive sometimes, and other times I don't. I thought a lot today, and it wasn't really unpleasant. Just a little confusing.
I am the uber-INFP. I think way too much.
I have cognitive dissonance sometimes. (I am also the uber-psych nerd. I've already referenced two social psych things in the last few sentences.) I know that what I have with Master and Mistress makes me very happy. Master himself said today that he'd never seen me this happy.
That would be because I've never been this happy before.
But, yeah...cognitive dissonance. I know this is what I want and what I need, but sometimes I struggle with my thoughts, anyway. I wonder sometimes what made me this way. If I hadn't grown up a quiet, overly sensitive child whose IQ was at least 50 points higher than everyone else in her entire family's, thus never having anyone to relate to for years amongst the boisterous rednecks that come from where I do, would I have turned out differently? Or am I one of those people who was just born to be submissive and would've been this way no matter what the forces around me did?
To some people, it doesn't matter. Because of the way my mind works, it matters to me.
Let's be honest here. In a lot of ways, the submissive, pleasing way of relating to people is a fairly simplistic and child-like method. Did the "handling relationships" part of my brain never quite progress past the abilities of my inner seven-year-old, or what? I mean, "pet me, tell me what to do, torture me, and pet me some more, and I'll be devoted to you and love you forever" isn't really a complex way of relating to people. Or maybe I just don't have the ability to relate to people on an adult level.
Or, hell, maybe I just suck so much at being me--whatever that is--that people can only handle dealing with me with those particular parameters in place. Like, they pity me and give me attention because I appear to be so starved for it. Or something.
God, this made so much more sense the first time I wrote it out. Now, I feel like I have all this random, disjointed thoughts out there that aren't strung together well enough to make them logically follow one another.
I'll do better tomorrow.
Wednesday, March 4, 2009
Happy Tears
Yes, I named this blog "Happy Tears" because someone who is currently sitting at the dining room table insisted. But I'm making it about Mistress because I want it to be about Mistress.
She is, in a lot of ways, the kind of person I've always wished I could be--strong, outgoing, and very likeable to pretty much everyone. I'm none of these things, not really. It also hasn't taken me very long to figure out that she is beautiful inside and out (which sounds like a cheesy platitude, but in this case, it's not). I sincerely doubt there is anyone else in this world who'd have given me the chance that she has.
One of my talents is the ability to read people very well. I guess one of the good things about being the kind of person who's always sat back and watched what was going on rather than participating is that you learn to see things about people that other people don't necessarily see. I can see what kind of person she is, and she is the kind of person that I want to serve.
She understands that the slave inside me is really just a scared little girl who needs someone(s) to devote her whole life to. I know that she might hurt me (a lot), but she'll never harm me.
I want desperately to please her. I don't think I can even put it into words. If I could make her half as happy as she makes me, I'd think I'd accomplished something. I can't believe she wants to keep me. I'll keep praying she doesn't come to her senses later.
The other reason for the blog title, besides the Masterly-type person who keeps distracting me, is that I *did* cry happy tears last night. And the night before. It's not something I do often. But I'm so blissfully happy just being here and being theirs that it keeps happening.
Up until this point in my life, I've sort of just existed. I kind of half-assed skated my way through everything, not really caring one way or the other and doing various stupid shit because I didn't care enough not to, and I didn't feel that anyone else cared one way or the other what I did.
It's not that way anymore. Master and Mistress care about me. I know this beyond a shadow of a doubt. (And I'm pathetically tearing up just as I type this.) I'm full of cliches tonight, but I sort of feel like I'm alive for the very first time in my life. I guess that's what happens when you find a reason and a purpose.
And then when Mistress kissed me last night, for the very first time...I thought I might explode with happiness. I hope that happens again often. :)
As always, I manage to veer off into the realm of creepy stalker in my blogs, but I figure the both of them might as well know what I am. I hope the things I say come off as devotion and honesty and not neediness and clinginess. But this has been on my mind since last night.
After Mistress fell asleep, I fell asleep beside her for a little while. Then, I woke up and wandered in to tell Master I was headed to bed. He had me come sit in the floor at his feet for a little while. We talked a bit, and he asked me if I'd fallen in love with Mistress. I couldn't answer. The rational part of my brain was screaming, "This is only the second time you've ever met her!" and other equally unhelpful things.
But you know what? I've been thinking. He's right. (Damn him, he's good at that.)
I've always loved Master. And now I love Mistress, too. It's not something I can say easily, but it's true. All I want, for the rest of my life, is to love and be devoted to my owners and have them love and cherish me in return.
I'd say everything else is just the icing on the cake, but the icing is my favorite part. So maybe everything else is just the cake, which is just a vehicle for transporting the sweet, yummy stuff I love so very much.
She is, in a lot of ways, the kind of person I've always wished I could be--strong, outgoing, and very likeable to pretty much everyone. I'm none of these things, not really. It also hasn't taken me very long to figure out that she is beautiful inside and out (which sounds like a cheesy platitude, but in this case, it's not). I sincerely doubt there is anyone else in this world who'd have given me the chance that she has.
One of my talents is the ability to read people very well. I guess one of the good things about being the kind of person who's always sat back and watched what was going on rather than participating is that you learn to see things about people that other people don't necessarily see. I can see what kind of person she is, and she is the kind of person that I want to serve.
She understands that the slave inside me is really just a scared little girl who needs someone(s) to devote her whole life to. I know that she might hurt me (a lot), but she'll never harm me.
I want desperately to please her. I don't think I can even put it into words. If I could make her half as happy as she makes me, I'd think I'd accomplished something. I can't believe she wants to keep me. I'll keep praying she doesn't come to her senses later.
The other reason for the blog title, besides the Masterly-type person who keeps distracting me, is that I *did* cry happy tears last night. And the night before. It's not something I do often. But I'm so blissfully happy just being here and being theirs that it keeps happening.
Up until this point in my life, I've sort of just existed. I kind of half-assed skated my way through everything, not really caring one way or the other and doing various stupid shit because I didn't care enough not to, and I didn't feel that anyone else cared one way or the other what I did.
It's not that way anymore. Master and Mistress care about me. I know this beyond a shadow of a doubt. (And I'm pathetically tearing up just as I type this.) I'm full of cliches tonight, but I sort of feel like I'm alive for the very first time in my life. I guess that's what happens when you find a reason and a purpose.
And then when Mistress kissed me last night, for the very first time...I thought I might explode with happiness. I hope that happens again often. :)
As always, I manage to veer off into the realm of creepy stalker in my blogs, but I figure the both of them might as well know what I am. I hope the things I say come off as devotion and honesty and not neediness and clinginess. But this has been on my mind since last night.
After Mistress fell asleep, I fell asleep beside her for a little while. Then, I woke up and wandered in to tell Master I was headed to bed. He had me come sit in the floor at his feet for a little while. We talked a bit, and he asked me if I'd fallen in love with Mistress. I couldn't answer. The rational part of my brain was screaming, "This is only the second time you've ever met her!" and other equally unhelpful things.
But you know what? I've been thinking. He's right. (Damn him, he's good at that.)
I've always loved Master. And now I love Mistress, too. It's not something I can say easily, but it's true. All I want, for the rest of my life, is to love and be devoted to my owners and have them love and cherish me in return.
I'd say everything else is just the icing on the cake, but the icing is my favorite part. So maybe everything else is just the cake, which is just a vehicle for transporting the sweet, yummy stuff I love so very much.
Monday, March 2, 2009
I Am The Luckiest Person Ever
So I dragged myself out of bed about an hour ago and found an email from J. in my inbox. The amount of happy that created was definitely out of proportion to the fact that it was JUST AN EMAIL! Yeah, so...I have, like, the biggest crush ever on this girl. It's kind of pathetic, actually, LOL.
I'm now trying to motivate myself to work, and I'm not getting anywhere. So in the interest of procrastinating while still feeling like I'm doing something productive, I decided to create this blog and indulge both my exhibitionistic (I think I just created a word) need to blabber details about myself all over the Internet and J.'s compulsive need to know every single thought in my head. :D
Two birds, one stone.
(And, let's be honest here, B. is going to laugh at both of us, so it could actually be three birds....Dork.)
Ok, I'm getting off track here.
I have enough blogs to keep up with for work, but I thought this would be better than MySpace. It'll keep us all relatively anonymous, or, at least, we can hide behind our online personae. And because I know how to make blogs hit the top of Google for certain keywords in a matter of days, I also know how to make them not-so-search-engine-friendly, so everybody and his/her Mama ain't all up in my biznezz, ya know what I'm sayin'?
But, again, exhibitionistic whore that I am, I DID put a link to this blog in my sig line on my favorite kinky message board. So maybe I do want attention. Whatever.
And now I'm even more off track than I was to start with. Focus, girl, or you'll never finish here. Which may also be my motivation, given my disdain for work today....
Anyway, I'm going to be disgustingly gooey for a moment, since I don't have a cold-hearted bitch reputation to uphold in this particular blog. ;) First of all, when I saw that J. had updated the blog on her and B.'s CollarMe profile to say they'd found a slave...I was really happy.
God, I'm going to overuse the shit out of that word.
The idea of posting the pics of me on the amateur BDSM site was a good one, too. (Nope, I'm not going to say the name of it, lest I acquire stalkers who go hunt me down on there, but there's a good possibility I'm going to post non-face pics here in the future.) It was just enough to make me blush a little, which is a good thing. Plus, I thought it was kind of nice 'cause it meant they're proud enough of me to want to show me off. Which made me blush more. Same thing with the Craig's List idea.
Yes, I am quite possibly the only pervert in the universe who thinks that having humiliating pictures of herself on kinky websites and having a "slave for use" ad on CL are sweet gestures. Sue me.
I honestly was not expecting this. Given everything else that's happened, I truly thought J. and I would try to tolerate one another for B.'s sake and maybe learn to like each other eventually. But, hell, after dinner on Friday, I already liked her way more than I thought was possible. Then, after we played and I realized that she *got* it, too, it went way farther than that. :)
I have played with (and been chased by) tons of dominants, some of them very well-known all over the South and quite highly sought-after by submissives. I've had more than one glare at me and say, "Well, if 'X' wanted ME to be his sub, I certainly wouldn't turn him down," with all kinds of venom in her voice. I'm not saying that to make myself sound good or anything. I sincerely doubt it's so much that I'm so freaking awesome as it as that most other people are so freaking bad, LOL. I just look phenomenal in comparison to the losers.
But...I am a very much "in control" person. Even playing with those people, I still basically ran the show. That's just how I am. For the longest time, B. was the only person I could ever even imagine submitting to. That is, until I met J.
Friday, in playing with J., I was transported back to a time three years ago when I met B. I had the exact same feelings. Being touched by her was like having my breath ripped straight out of my chest and being whacked repeatedly over the head with my deeply, darkly, richly submissive desires. I just wanted to kneel at her feet and bask in her presence, but I decided that'd be too creepy and awkward for a first date. ;)
I never in my life thought I'd ever find ONE person who got it. To have two is way, way, way more luck than I thought I'd ever have. I must've done something really fabulous in a past life.
And, no, this is not me just kissing ass. I'm not very good at that, LOL. I have very frank thoughts that I usually censor heavily, so they don't hurt people's feelings. But when you ask my opinion, you get it. J. wants to know what's on my mind...so here it is, in all its glory. :D
See, going into it, I thought I would feel something like "This is Master, and this is his wife, and I have to appease her because I want to serve him." The reality of it, though is this: "This is Master, and this is Mistress, and I want to serve both of them."
Ok, that's enough. I've rambled too long as it is. I need to eat lunch and go to work (ZOMG, work blogs, NOOOOO!!!!!) and start writing the other story J. wants me to have finished for her tonight when she gets home. Oh, and worry that I've already revealed too much and made J. think I'm the clingiest, fastest-moving, most desperate person ever.
This is so not me.
I'm now trying to motivate myself to work, and I'm not getting anywhere. So in the interest of procrastinating while still feeling like I'm doing something productive, I decided to create this blog and indulge both my exhibitionistic (I think I just created a word) need to blabber details about myself all over the Internet and J.'s compulsive need to know every single thought in my head. :D
Two birds, one stone.
(And, let's be honest here, B. is going to laugh at both of us, so it could actually be three birds....Dork.)
Ok, I'm getting off track here.
I have enough blogs to keep up with for work, but I thought this would be better than MySpace. It'll keep us all relatively anonymous, or, at least, we can hide behind our online personae. And because I know how to make blogs hit the top of Google for certain keywords in a matter of days, I also know how to make them not-so-search-engine-friendly, so everybody and his/her Mama ain't all up in my biznezz, ya know what I'm sayin'?
But, again, exhibitionistic whore that I am, I DID put a link to this blog in my sig line on my favorite kinky message board. So maybe I do want attention. Whatever.
And now I'm even more off track than I was to start with. Focus, girl, or you'll never finish here. Which may also be my motivation, given my disdain for work today....
Anyway, I'm going to be disgustingly gooey for a moment, since I don't have a cold-hearted bitch reputation to uphold in this particular blog. ;) First of all, when I saw that J. had updated the blog on her and B.'s CollarMe profile to say they'd found a slave...I was really happy.
God, I'm going to overuse the shit out of that word.
The idea of posting the pics of me on the amateur BDSM site was a good one, too. (Nope, I'm not going to say the name of it, lest I acquire stalkers who go hunt me down on there, but there's a good possibility I'm going to post non-face pics here in the future.) It was just enough to make me blush a little, which is a good thing. Plus, I thought it was kind of nice 'cause it meant they're proud enough of me to want to show me off. Which made me blush more. Same thing with the Craig's List idea.
Yes, I am quite possibly the only pervert in the universe who thinks that having humiliating pictures of herself on kinky websites and having a "slave for use" ad on CL are sweet gestures. Sue me.
I honestly was not expecting this. Given everything else that's happened, I truly thought J. and I would try to tolerate one another for B.'s sake and maybe learn to like each other eventually. But, hell, after dinner on Friday, I already liked her way more than I thought was possible. Then, after we played and I realized that she *got* it, too, it went way farther than that. :)
I have played with (and been chased by) tons of dominants, some of them very well-known all over the South and quite highly sought-after by submissives. I've had more than one glare at me and say, "Well, if 'X' wanted ME to be his sub, I certainly wouldn't turn him down," with all kinds of venom in her voice. I'm not saying that to make myself sound good or anything. I sincerely doubt it's so much that I'm so freaking awesome as it as that most other people are so freaking bad, LOL. I just look phenomenal in comparison to the losers.
But...I am a very much "in control" person. Even playing with those people, I still basically ran the show. That's just how I am. For the longest time, B. was the only person I could ever even imagine submitting to. That is, until I met J.
Friday, in playing with J., I was transported back to a time three years ago when I met B. I had the exact same feelings. Being touched by her was like having my breath ripped straight out of my chest and being whacked repeatedly over the head with my deeply, darkly, richly submissive desires. I just wanted to kneel at her feet and bask in her presence, but I decided that'd be too creepy and awkward for a first date. ;)
I never in my life thought I'd ever find ONE person who got it. To have two is way, way, way more luck than I thought I'd ever have. I must've done something really fabulous in a past life.
And, no, this is not me just kissing ass. I'm not very good at that, LOL. I have very frank thoughts that I usually censor heavily, so they don't hurt people's feelings. But when you ask my opinion, you get it. J. wants to know what's on my mind...so here it is, in all its glory. :D
See, going into it, I thought I would feel something like "This is Master, and this is his wife, and I have to appease her because I want to serve him." The reality of it, though is this: "This is Master, and this is Mistress, and I want to serve both of them."
Ok, that's enough. I've rambled too long as it is. I need to eat lunch and go to work (ZOMG, work blogs, NOOOOO!!!!!) and start writing the other story J. wants me to have finished for her tonight when she gets home. Oh, and worry that I've already revealed too much and made J. think I'm the clingiest, fastest-moving, most desperate person ever.
This is so not me.
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