:D

B. and J. came over this weekend. I was really, like, stupidly happy. It was partly because I hadn't seen them in way too long (damn this whole being broke thing) and partly because, well, it just seemed right for them to be snoring on my couches after dinner. ;)

We must do this again soon.

In other news, I'm still struggling. No, I swear, I'm not one of those bitches who always has to have some kind of drama, or she'll never be happy.

No, really. Shut up.

I'm still in the stages of figuring out how to word this and actually identifying the problem. But I'm going to give it a try, anyway.

Saturday, J., L., and I went over to L.'s place to see mine and L.'s cats. While we were there, we were talking because that's what happens when you get a bunch of females together, right? J. and I both briefly talked about how we have a complete inability to do things halfway. We have different approaches, naturally, but it's a trait we've got in common, for sure. It's one reason I have a huge amount of respect for her.

But upon further reflection, I realize that, in relation to myself, that's not exactly the truth.

I'm doing better than I was in this relationship, but I'm still holding back. I'm afraid, of course, because I'm full of insecurities and always afraid of something, but I'm also stubborn and refusing to accept things I know are true about myself.

I think a lot of my refusal to identify with the "slave" label is not because I don't see slavish tendencies and qualities about me, but because I still can't quite give all of myself that there is to give, for a multitude of reasons.

But I'm also seeing that in the past month or so, my ability to hold my loves at arm's length has waned considerably. I've let the two of them in much closer that I ever intended to. On one hand, it cues the old "chew through the straps and run like hell" reaction, but on the other hand, it makes me quite happy.

Upon closer examination, though, I'm kind of disappointed in myself. They deserve more than this.

After they left Saturday night, I was lying in my bed, unable to move because I was so sore. ;) And I realized I've pretty much reached this crossroads now. I can either continue on in this strange sort of holding pattern, where I'm deluding myself that I still retain some sort of control (thereby remaining vaguely dissatisfied for all my days), or I can say, "Fuck it," and make the leap.

'Cause leaving's not an option anymore. (Well, aside from the fun "Oh, you must come kidnap me because I won't go willingly" games. But that's totally different.)

Part of the fear is the knowledge that if I were to become one iota more dependent on them than I already am, I don't think I could ever function as a whole person again should they decide they don't want me anymore. And since I've always been very independent because I learned a long time ago that you can't count on other people, and you've only got yourself to make things happen, this whole dependency issue is a problem for me.

But something tells me I'm not ever going to be completely happy--just vaguely annoyed and disgusted at myself--if I don't do this all the way, like I do everything else in my life.

(The proverbial bull in the china shop and all that.)

The other fear is, maybe they don't want this. Maybe they don't *really* want me as complete and total slave. Maybe it's asking too much of them. Maybe it would be wrong to ask them to shoulder the responsibility and hassle. Who could possibly want someone who's THAT dependent on them at all times?

And, for the purposes of this discussion, "dependent" doesn't mean financially so or so needing to be told when I can go to the bathroom or whatever. It's not a matter of worthless or stupid, just...dependent. And redundant. Yay, redundancy.

A very large part of me wants to beg to be brought down extremely low. To have my illusion of control that they've let me keep up until now completely shattered. To be completely at their mercy and in their control, not just for the duration of our fun playtime, but for always. To be brought to the place that I can be the slave that I know I can be. To be shown how *unworthy* of love I am and then loved, anyway.

But only if that's what they want. I love them far too much to ever want them to do something they didn't want just because I'm whiny and angsty again, even if I do crave the peace and acceptance that finally being what I apparently was born to be would bring. :)

Insert Interesting Blog Title Here

Mistress wants another blog, and what Mistress wants, she gets. ;)

Even I admit I've been neglecting this thing way more than I should. I just feel extremely uninspired most of the time. The proverbial well ran dry awhile back, I'm afraid. Not that there was ever a whole bunch there to begin with. :p

Well, to update...my loves are coming to visit me this weekend. Yay! L. and I have been frantically cleaning and buying groceries. Mostly 'cause I don't want them to think I'm total failure as a female.

But, no, seriously, I'm really looking forward to it (and hoping they don't mind my other friend L. and possibly her husband showing up). And hoping they can tolerate my cooking. And planning to have L. (the one who lives across the parking lot from me, not with the married one) and J. help me tie B. up and do evil things to him. *Grins*

Seven-year-olds can be very cruel, you know. *Giggles*

Anyway, I'm currently having yet another internal struggle that revolves around me knowing I have so much more to give my owner-type people, but being afraid to let myself go that far. Yes, yes, I know, bad slave-girl, not conducive to good relationship, etc. I think I just have this rather self-destructive habit of rebelling against my true nature.

And then I'm PMS-ing. I swear, I get downright ornery when that happens.

I dunno. I wanna be a better slave-girl. I know I can be. But apparently, I'm only capable of falling so far before I stop myself and go, "Nope, can't do it."

I really wish I were more comfortable in my own skin.

Ok, to end this on a good note, I'm still really, really excited about this weekend! And about spending time with J. next week while B. is away. :)

I'm So Tired

Shit...I'm tired.

It's been a hell of a weekend. I got almost all my work caught up. I have worked 70 hours since Thursday. I have done 560 minutes worth of phone sex in that time. Unfortunately, our pay period ends on Friday night/Saturday morning at midnight, so that time is split between 2 checks. Just on this pay period, in the last 48 hours, I've worked 44 of them and done 335 minutes of phone boning.

I'm not saying this to brag about my amazing phone prowess. *Rolls eyes* I'm just illustrating how exhausted I am.

I caught up all my blogs AND converted the dummy blogs over to Blogger. Of course, the import tool didn't work, so I had to copy and paste and appropriately date EVERY SINGLE MOTHERFUCKING POST. I put some affiliate links up on them. I fucked with my website. I did a whole bunch of other shit. I am thoroughly sick of sitting in front of the computer.

In addition to that, I also wrote TWO resumes for myself. One's a "regular" one, and the other is a skills-based one to use when applying for writing jobs. Unfortunately, I'm too tired to search for jobs at the moment, so they're kind of useless at the moment.

I also cooked two freaking meals a day all weekend because I'm apparently the only person of the people who were here all weekend that know how to do ANYTHING. I suddenly remember why I could never be a housewife. I'm of the mindset that if you're hungry, fucking fix you something. And if you can't do that, then fucking STARVE for all I fucking care. Just leave me alone, goddammit.

Sorry. I am feeling more than slightly underappreciated at the moment.

It's like...I work myself to death, and nobody cares. The only thing that matters is that I give and give and give, even if it's to my own detriment. I don't know why I accept it. Maybe I'm getting way more like my mother than I care to admit and think taking on the martyr role makes me look good. Or maybe, and more likely, I'm just too nice to say "no."

I don't like feeling undervalued and underappreciated. I guess that's why I like being with B. and J. They don't really make me feel like that.

And, as always, when I get stressed, my sexual fantasies turn dark. But, then, inexplicably, on the other hand, I want gentleness and tenderness.

I'm just a confused little girl, I think.

A Slave-Girl's Primer, Or Why Princess Bunny Will Never Be A "Real" Dominatrix

(Ya see what I did there? I might've ripped the title of this blog off from Marlyn Schwartz's A Southern Belle Primer, Or Why Princess Margaret Will Never Be A Kappa Kappa Gamma.)

This blog is a conglomerate of a whole bunch of thoughts that have finally managed to come together in my head in a way that's somewhat coherent to ME. Whether it will be coherent to others is anyone's guess. (And, no, Mattress, it's not bad, so you can stop holding your breath now. :p)

I know it sounds silly to say that I struggle with being who I am, but it's the truth. Any casual observer reading this blog will realize it. I'm sure it's a good bit of the reason for a lot of the angst in my head, which bleeds over into my relationship, too.

I've bounced around a whole lot in my self-labeling process. That also sounds stupid to anybody else, I'm sure. But words are my forte, so it's a big deal to me.

I've mostly stuck with "switch," since it's a catch-all for things that don't fit neatly in boxes, but I'm seeing more and more here lately that it doesn't fit.

At heart, I am a quiet, unobtrusive, complicated soul, though I can appear to be whatever I need to be to fit most any situation. Sarcastic, flashy, and bitchy tends to serve me well, as a general rule. Admittedly, I have more defense mechanisms than, as my Granny would've said, Carter has liver pills, but there you go.

Anyway, I'm pretty good at pretending to be something I'm not. So good, in fact, that I sort of tend to get the actual me confused with the me I happen to be pretending to be at the moment. Which sounds vaguely MPD, but whatever.

I'm beating around the bush, I know.

As I've mentioned before, I'm really, really, really good at getting people to do exactly what I want them to do. It's no great feat or strong personal character trait. I'm just stubborn as fuck. (Only child.) You'd think that'd translate to dominance, but no. It doesn't.

I like hurting people. Well, under certain circumstances. But put me even slightly in charge of having to decide what happens next, and I'm at a complete loss.

For a long time, I couldn't figure out why subs got on my nerves. I thought they were just annoying. But I think it's probably me. No, actually, I know it's me. I'll tell you why

Today, B. came to visit. I tried to tie him up and give him what he needed and failed miserably. He didn't seem terribly upset about it, but I felt like I'd disappointed him in some profound way, and I hated myself for it.

What I'm getting at is that I've pretty much been tying people up as long as I've been being tied up. I've gotten mostly comfortable with the latter, but increasingly uncomfortable with the former. You'd think experience would ease the discomfort, but it doesn't. I think it gets worse each time.

When I play, I'm ok as long as someone else is telling me what to do. If I have to do the deciding, I'm lost and feel really uncomfortable and vaguely sick.

Unfortunately, I've realized this is basically a metaphor for my entire life. I've kinda clung to the "switch" thing because it's beyond hard for me to admit that not only do I need someone to keep me from doing something stupid when I play, but I apparently need a keeper for daily life as well.

It's kind of embarrassing. It makes me feel stupid and worthless and lacking the wherewithal to do things by myself and for myself. I don't like depending on other people, and God knows, there aren't too many people in the world I CAN depend on.

The whole problem is not with the label, of course, but in the way I see myself. I don't like needing other people, so I try to shove them away. Then, I manage to get myself into idiotic situations to prove to myself I can get out of them, I guess. I dunno.

My friend B. (not the Masterly one) kinda banged me over the head with it earlier, though. I'm submissive. The sooner I stop trying to be something I'm not, the sooner I can deal with it and get on with my life.

It's scary needing my loves so much. I'm so used to being generally dissatisfied with things that I'm always looking for something else. But I've finally found what I need for the rest of my life, and maybe one day I can actually be cool with being "slave" instead of something else. Or at least "sadomasochistic service pet." That's kinda long, though.

I love them with all my heart, and I'm just trying, trying, trying to get past the self-loathing that seems to keep creating stumbling blocks. I started small. I'm currently changing my profiles on random kinky websites to indicate this new epiphany of mine. Stupid, yes, but baby steps.

A large part of me still hates myself for not being what I thought I should be--strong, independent, and self-sufficient. I feel weak and useless and stupid in a lot of ways. But you know something? When I'm with J. and B., I feel none of those things. What I feel there is a quiet sense of contentment. I think I should probably listen more to that feeling than the ones I have when I angst alone.

I'm getting there. I'm used to doing things the hard way, so as long as they don't give up on me, I should make it eventually.

I'm Really Trying, I Swear

Ever since a couple of weeks ago when J. told me that I didn't really act affectionate toward her, I've been trying to make a conscious effort to do better.

Problem is, until I got involved with these two, I had no idea just how fucked up I really am. *Wry grin*

Just as a sort of parallel to demonstrate the issue I'm having, I was reading an article the other day about autism-spectrum disorders, Asperger's in particular (because I'm still a psych nerd at heart). Traditionally, people with Asperger's have been assumed to lack empathy because of their trouble relating to other people.

Now, though, there's this radical new idea out that perhaps these people have MORE empathy than the average person. The reason that they withdraw when they're in a roomful of people is that they're more empathic than everyone else in the room put together, and all those emotions overwhelm them, so they shut down altogether to keep from having to deal with it.

I read some of the accounts that people with Asperger's wrote, about how overly sensitive they are and how overwhelming it is to face people and their emotions and how awkward they feel in such situations. You know what I thought? I could've written that exact thing.

Ok, lemme stop for a second and say I didn't just diagnose myself with Asperger's, LOL. I don't fit the diagnostic criteria. ;)

I just wanted to use that as an example because I know how those people must feel. How you often want to reach out to people, but you just don't know how. How you hide away inside yourself because just being around people and picking up on their emotions hurts, so God knows how much it'll hurt to actually, you know, become involved in those people's lives in any sort of meaningful way. How when you do make an effort to reach out, it feels so awkward and wooden and unnatural. How you pretend that you don't want to interact with people, even though you really do, because it's easier to just keep them away from you than to go through all those pained and awkward motions.

I've been doing my best to try to be more affectionate, but I'm afraid it'll be hard road. I'm writing this to B. and J. to tell them not to give up on me.

My friend B. (not the same B. as the Masterly-type person, though they share the same name) says that while I'm in the 98th IQ percentile of people in this country, I am--and I quote--"emotionally retarded." I whacked him for it, but he's right. (He actually said, "You're emotionally retarded. Emotionally, you're riding a small, yellow bus, licking the windows, with your mittens pinned to your jacket." Now the bastard has taken to calling me "Mittens." Fucker.)

In my defense, I must've missed the whole "how to show people you love them" socialization somehow. Aside from the fact that my mother and her side of the family are a case study in the Axis II personality disorders, mostly Clusters B and C, with a little of Cluster A thrown in there for entertainment (and, yes, that probably includes me as well, LOL), I've just never really been around people who were particularly effusive about how they felt about others.

My Daddy is a prime example. I could probably count on one hand the number of times that stoic country man has ever told me he loves me. It's just his way. But I know he loves me nonetheless. Same goes for Mother. She's a complete and total whackjob in a lot of ways, I know, but I think she's probably told me she loves me fewer times than Daddy has. I listen to other people talk on the phone with their parents and say, "I love you" right before they hang up. That weirds me out. I just...can't imagine.

Same thing with physical affection. Nowadays, because they hardly ever see me, my parents will awkwardly hug me before we part ways. Well, sometimes. But it's more uncomfortable than anything.

Everyone I've dated? Well, I've tolerated them petting and holding and kissing me, even when most of the time I didn't want them to. But reach out for them? Nope. Not my thing.

I'm only pointing these things out to show that I'm this way with everyone, not just my fabulous owner-people.

So I watch B. and J. interact, how easily they touch one another, how they don't seem to feel awkward petting or hugging one another, how they kiss each other quickly on the lips as they pass, how they say, "I love you" without it sounding like something out of a really badly scripted movie, and it makes me feel both befuddled and vaguely sad.

I really don't know how to do that. But I wish I did. And I'm trying, but I still feel like an autistic kid sometimes.