We did everything that night, except fuck. It was raw and primal and intense; in short, it was everything that we love and everything that characterizes our dynamic.
He snapped His fingers. I crawled to Him.
He kicked me down onto the floor. I cringed.
He spanked me mercilessly. I sobbed until He knew I had had enough.
After it was over, we were spent. We curled up next to each other on the floor. I felt like all of the tension had been wrung out of my body. We looked at each other with those blissed-out looks on our faces, but neither of us had come.
It was perfectly unexpected.
Showing posts with label training. Show all posts
Showing posts with label training. Show all posts
Comprehending
No matter how much control you think you've surrendered, there comes a time when you realize how much farther there is to go. There comes a time when something more is demanded of you and you give it, even though you didn't think it was possible.
I can't explain what happened - even if my Owner hadn't forbidden me from talking about it, I couldn't describe it. But I need only say that it shook my understanding of how powerful He is and how connected we are. It makes me wonder what either of us would be without the other, as if my whole being depends on His existence on this planet. That sounds over-dramatic, but these are dramatic times between us.
Oh, I can tell you this small part...
He made me come with his mind.
I can't explain what happened - even if my Owner hadn't forbidden me from talking about it, I couldn't describe it. But I need only say that it shook my understanding of how powerful He is and how connected we are. It makes me wonder what either of us would be without the other, as if my whole being depends on His existence on this planet. That sounds over-dramatic, but these are dramatic times between us.
Oh, I can tell you this small part...
He made me come with his mind.
It's the Little Things
Him: Are you taking your vitamins kitten?
Me: Sometimes, yes
Him: Kitten. Every day. Ok?
Me: Yes sir
Him: Good girl. Try hard for me ok?
Me: I will, Owner. I'm sorry
Him: It's ok Kitten. I just want you to be nice and healthy
Me: I know, thank you for looking out for me :)
Me: Sometimes, yes
Him: Kitten. Every day. Ok?
Me: Yes sir
Him: Good girl. Try hard for me ok?
Me: I will, Owner. I'm sorry
Him: It's ok Kitten. I just want you to be nice and healthy
Me: I know, thank you for looking out for me :)
Denial
"Touch yourself and tell me when you're going to come," He said as he laid next to me, watching. I started playing with my clit and felt my pussy get wetter and wetter. I was moaning softly. I looked up at him and asked to come. "Get closer," He ordered and I kept playing. "Can I come now? Please?," I begged. He paused and I grew closer to orgasm. "No, stop," He said suddenly and I pulled my hand away sharply.
Then He did it again, allowing me to get close to coming and ordering me to stop. Each time I pulled away my hand quickly, but reluctantly. I knew that I would get a slap if I didn't stop, but I was unhappy about it.
Then He crouched between my legs and teased my inner thighs with his tongue. "Do you want to come?," He asked lightly. "Yes, please," I begged breathlessly. After what felt like an eternity, He finally touched his tongue to my clit and moved it unbearably slowly. "Fingers, please," I gasped, indicating that I wanted him to finger-fuck me while he licked my clit (a surefire way to orgasm for me). He slid two fingers into my pussy. I was just about to come. I begged, "Please, please, can I? Daddy please?" He said yes, and I felt the first wave about to break. That's when He pulled away and out of me.
I looked up in shock and squirmed with pent-up sexual frustration. Was he denying me? He laid next to me and touched my face.
"When you were about to come, what did I do?"
"You stopped," I said plainly, wondering if it was a trick question.
"And when I tell you to stop walking and wait, what should you do?"
"I should stop." Oh, I knew what this was. This was punishment.
"Good, then now you know how to stop. I just showed you," He said a touch smugly. "Maybe I should let you touch yourself and come while you suck my cock?," He asked.
"I would like that, please," I said tentatively.
"I bet you would. No, it's time for bed."
My mouth fell open. I had to come, I needed to come or I would be awake and out-of-sorts all night! He had never denied me an orgasm before. I couldn't believe it. A tear leaked out of my eye and I brushed it away, embarrassed. I sat up and smoothed my nightgown back over my thighs in a defeated gesture. Just as I was about to get up, He grabbed my arm.
"Oh, okay, you can come once, but I hope you learned your lesson," He chided with a wag of his finger. I smiled and crawled eagerly toward Him.
Then He did it again, allowing me to get close to coming and ordering me to stop. Each time I pulled away my hand quickly, but reluctantly. I knew that I would get a slap if I didn't stop, but I was unhappy about it.
Then He crouched between my legs and teased my inner thighs with his tongue. "Do you want to come?," He asked lightly. "Yes, please," I begged breathlessly. After what felt like an eternity, He finally touched his tongue to my clit and moved it unbearably slowly. "Fingers, please," I gasped, indicating that I wanted him to finger-fuck me while he licked my clit (a surefire way to orgasm for me). He slid two fingers into my pussy. I was just about to come. I begged, "Please, please, can I? Daddy please?" He said yes, and I felt the first wave about to break. That's when He pulled away and out of me.
I looked up in shock and squirmed with pent-up sexual frustration. Was he denying me? He laid next to me and touched my face.
"When you were about to come, what did I do?"
"You stopped," I said plainly, wondering if it was a trick question.
"And when I tell you to stop walking and wait, what should you do?"
"I should stop." Oh, I knew what this was. This was punishment.
"Good, then now you know how to stop. I just showed you," He said a touch smugly. "Maybe I should let you touch yourself and come while you suck my cock?," He asked.
"I would like that, please," I said tentatively.
"I bet you would. No, it's time for bed."
My mouth fell open. I had to come, I needed to come or I would be awake and out-of-sorts all night! He had never denied me an orgasm before. I couldn't believe it. A tear leaked out of my eye and I brushed it away, embarrassed. I sat up and smoothed my nightgown back over my thighs in a defeated gesture. Just as I was about to get up, He grabbed my arm.
"Oh, okay, you can come once, but I hope you learned your lesson," He chided with a wag of his finger. I smiled and crawled eagerly toward Him.
Questions
Sometimes I wish that I didn't doubt or question. But I do. The doubts creep up at the oddest times, like last night. I don't know why it happened because I was feeling so good after my latest therapy session and my amazing weekend, but it happened anyway. I couldn't take His comment that he is allowed to do X because he is the Owner while I am not allowed to do X because I am the Kitten. I wanted to get off of the phone right away when he said that. I didn't want to listen anymore.
My emotional reaction to his statement brought up all kinds of questions that I wish I could say are gone at this point. I thought that I'd be over asking "why" after almost a year and a half. I know that that's not long in the grand scheme of things, but I thought that those questions would just go away at some point. I've felt stronger and more sure of myself lately, but I still push back and I still challenge.
I am a hard nut to crack, I guess. Or maybe I'm just like everyone else and others cover it better. Who's to say what the usual process is for any of us, anyway? Maybe I'm ahead of the curve or maybe I'm a slow learner. I wish I didn't feel the weight of these questions so much, but what can I expect when I carry these questions around by myself all the time?
Sometimes I wish I wasn't this way, that I could be happy with a normal life. I wish that I could turn off those voices in my head that want pain or degradation. Sometimes I wish that I didn't know about S&M so that I could go back to pretending to be a happy vanilla person. I wish that I could accept myself as I am.
I wish that I could accept myself. I wish that I didn't have to be ashamed or afraid. I wish that I could feel normalcy in this life. I wonder if it will happen over time. Right now, it seems like a roadblock. I need to move forward, move through it. I don't exactly know how.
Until I figure that out, I'm afraid that I will continue to test Him, and test myself. I don't want to be a pain, at least but I know that He's not ready to give up on me any time soon. I just feel bad. I could be so much better for Him if I could just get over myself.
My emotional reaction to his statement brought up all kinds of questions that I wish I could say are gone at this point. I thought that I'd be over asking "why" after almost a year and a half. I know that that's not long in the grand scheme of things, but I thought that those questions would just go away at some point. I've felt stronger and more sure of myself lately, but I still push back and I still challenge.
I am a hard nut to crack, I guess. Or maybe I'm just like everyone else and others cover it better. Who's to say what the usual process is for any of us, anyway? Maybe I'm ahead of the curve or maybe I'm a slow learner. I wish I didn't feel the weight of these questions so much, but what can I expect when I carry these questions around by myself all the time?
Sometimes I wish I wasn't this way, that I could be happy with a normal life. I wish that I could turn off those voices in my head that want pain or degradation. Sometimes I wish that I didn't know about S&M so that I could go back to pretending to be a happy vanilla person. I wish that I could accept myself as I am.
I wish that I could accept myself. I wish that I didn't have to be ashamed or afraid. I wish that I could feel normalcy in this life. I wonder if it will happen over time. Right now, it seems like a roadblock. I need to move forward, move through it. I don't exactly know how.
Until I figure that out, I'm afraid that I will continue to test Him, and test myself. I don't want to be a pain, at least but I know that He's not ready to give up on me any time soon. I just feel bad. I could be so much better for Him if I could just get over myself.
Voluntary Reality
I have a rich fantasy life.
No, that's not exactly true. It's vivid, but it's not particularly varied. I've relied on the same masturbatory scenarios for years.
They are all similar, even in their difference. They all are semi-public. I am being used, sometimes harshly. I am exposed and humiliated. There is usually more than one person there. He is leading, but the others are faceless. Often there are hands touching and sensations without reason.
But almost always...more than one person there, either participating or watching.
I haven't sought this out. I don't go around trying to recreate these scenarios. They are in my head and they are safe, tucked away where I can control them.
He knows about these fantasies and he thinks that it is his job to fulfill them. Plus they suit his needs. He wants to see me shared and passed around. He needs to see that, for whatever reason. He wants to know that I made someone else moan like I make Him moan, and he gets pleasure out of just that idea. He is making this happen, even though I did not ask for it.
But I cannot now deny that I wanted this. I have thought about it for years. How can I say now that I don't want this? He has been there as I confessed these fantasies, he saw the physical evidence of my arousal. He knows.
Will I be able to perform the way that he wants? Will I be able to hold it together? It will just be sex, it won't be intimacy like with Him. How do I go back to just sex after more than a year of the closest, most intense physical connection I have ever had with one person? I know that I have been trained, I know how to shut off that part of me and focus on being what he wants. But putting theory into practice is something else entirely.
No, that's not exactly true. It's vivid, but it's not particularly varied. I've relied on the same masturbatory scenarios for years.
They are all similar, even in their difference. They all are semi-public. I am being used, sometimes harshly. I am exposed and humiliated. There is usually more than one person there. He is leading, but the others are faceless. Often there are hands touching and sensations without reason.
But almost always...more than one person there, either participating or watching.
I haven't sought this out. I don't go around trying to recreate these scenarios. They are in my head and they are safe, tucked away where I can control them.
He knows about these fantasies and he thinks that it is his job to fulfill them. Plus they suit his needs. He wants to see me shared and passed around. He needs to see that, for whatever reason. He wants to know that I made someone else moan like I make Him moan, and he gets pleasure out of just that idea. He is making this happen, even though I did not ask for it.
But I cannot now deny that I wanted this. I have thought about it for years. How can I say now that I don't want this? He has been there as I confessed these fantasies, he saw the physical evidence of my arousal. He knows.
Will I be able to perform the way that he wants? Will I be able to hold it together? It will just be sex, it won't be intimacy like with Him. How do I go back to just sex after more than a year of the closest, most intense physical connection I have ever had with one person? I know that I have been trained, I know how to shut off that part of me and focus on being what he wants. But putting theory into practice is something else entirely.
Bending
I'm trying to find a model for where we're going, where we've been heading over the past couple of months, but I'm coming up short. That's okay, I don't mind making my own path. It just seems to me that we're venturing away from traditional submission into something else.
When we started, I was focused on finding this path through the quiet, through meekness and through humility. He wore me down a lot, roughly molding me into shape and into submission. His focus was quieting the screaming voices in my head and replacing them with His voice. I hear him now all the time, even when He isn't speaking. We reached this place of solitude together and it is pure and dreamy and quiet.
Once we were there, He told me that he loved how trainable I am. He loved seeing the fire in my eyes and the struggle, and then gradually the acceptance. He loved that I thought that no one could tame me, but he always could. He loved the clearness in my eyes.
So after he could focus me, he started training me for something else. He started making me a whore - that's the only way I can describe it. Remember those moments where I came out strong, eyes flashing for him, when I took a bit of control and let myself run wild? That's often what he wants to see now.
He talks about putting the regular me away and letting that wild girl come out. Sometimes I struggle against it, but he usually manages to make her emerge anyway. The scary part is that I do things in that state and I couldn't even imagine otherwise. He tells me that sometimes my eyes are glazed over like I am somewhere else, like I am someone else. I guess that I am.
I fuck him like he wants to be fucked, performing for him and doing whatever he wants. It is still a form of submission, in a way. But it is much less violent and much more coercive. He talks to me throughout, and I have to act the way that he wants or else.
Recently, He's talked a lot about sharing me. He talks about showing another man what I can do and how good I am. He pretends that he is the other man and makes me show him all of the things that I would do. He wants to watch me with the other man and if I'm good, he'll let me alone with the other man so I can do whatever I want. But I have to be a good girl and please the other man and tell Daddy all about it when I get home. It is so convoluted that sometimes I wonder who we really are, who I really am.
I know that He's getting ready to whore me out to someone else. There are e-mails and conversations that I am not a part of. I know that this is love, but I have a hard time finding it. I don't understand why this is the form that we are taking. I want so much to please Him and I will go wherever he sends me. There is a part of me that would love this, the wrongness of it, but I know that I would never pursue this on my own. This is an instance where, without training, I would keep this in the realm of fantasy. I suppose that is why He is working so hard to mold me into this girl. I just wonder who I'll be when he's done.
When we started, I was focused on finding this path through the quiet, through meekness and through humility. He wore me down a lot, roughly molding me into shape and into submission. His focus was quieting the screaming voices in my head and replacing them with His voice. I hear him now all the time, even when He isn't speaking. We reached this place of solitude together and it is pure and dreamy and quiet.
Once we were there, He told me that he loved how trainable I am. He loved seeing the fire in my eyes and the struggle, and then gradually the acceptance. He loved that I thought that no one could tame me, but he always could. He loved the clearness in my eyes.
So after he could focus me, he started training me for something else. He started making me a whore - that's the only way I can describe it. Remember those moments where I came out strong, eyes flashing for him, when I took a bit of control and let myself run wild? That's often what he wants to see now.
He talks about putting the regular me away and letting that wild girl come out. Sometimes I struggle against it, but he usually manages to make her emerge anyway. The scary part is that I do things in that state and I couldn't even imagine otherwise. He tells me that sometimes my eyes are glazed over like I am somewhere else, like I am someone else. I guess that I am.
I fuck him like he wants to be fucked, performing for him and doing whatever he wants. It is still a form of submission, in a way. But it is much less violent and much more coercive. He talks to me throughout, and I have to act the way that he wants or else.
Recently, He's talked a lot about sharing me. He talks about showing another man what I can do and how good I am. He pretends that he is the other man and makes me show him all of the things that I would do. He wants to watch me with the other man and if I'm good, he'll let me alone with the other man so I can do whatever I want. But I have to be a good girl and please the other man and tell Daddy all about it when I get home. It is so convoluted that sometimes I wonder who we really are, who I really am.
I know that He's getting ready to whore me out to someone else. There are e-mails and conversations that I am not a part of. I know that this is love, but I have a hard time finding it. I don't understand why this is the form that we are taking. I want so much to please Him and I will go wherever he sends me. There is a part of me that would love this, the wrongness of it, but I know that I would never pursue this on my own. This is an instance where, without training, I would keep this in the realm of fantasy. I suppose that is why He is working so hard to mold me into this girl. I just wonder who I'll be when he's done.
Plans
He talked to me slowly, quietly at first. His voice was low, but I could hear the edge in his voice, the desire. He talked about what I need and what he'll give me, even if that isn't always the same thing. He talked about beating me and I murmured that I need that so badly.
His words became harsh and degrading, pulling me deeper into that submissive headspace. He told me that I am his cunt and a little whore. He made me repeat it so the words would sink in.
He told me about the training - or, actually, the retraining - that he was planning for me. He told me about the belt, and the palm of his hand, and the candle wax. He drew elaborate pictures of me hogtied on the bed and about fucking me until I scream. He told me about the torture of not being able to come and how I would soon face that. He told me how much he would enjoy that and he laughed.
I could feel the heavy calm descending as he spoke and I wecomed it. I wrapped myself in it and felt it all around me. I was reminded. I needed to be reminded.
His words became harsh and degrading, pulling me deeper into that submissive headspace. He told me that I am his cunt and a little whore. He made me repeat it so the words would sink in.
He told me about the training - or, actually, the retraining - that he was planning for me. He told me about the belt, and the palm of his hand, and the candle wax. He drew elaborate pictures of me hogtied on the bed and about fucking me until I scream. He told me about the torture of not being able to come and how I would soon face that. He told me how much he would enjoy that and he laughed.
I could feel the heavy calm descending as he spoke and I wecomed it. I wrapped myself in it and felt it all around me. I was reminded. I needed to be reminded.
Corner
You know, it is simply a matter of turning the corner. Willfully, making myself turn in a new direction. All depression is like this. There is a certain element of matter over mind here. If I can force myself to get up, to put on nice clothes and to head purposefully out into the day, I will feel as I once did. I will feel whole again.
It's not about indulgence. Depression is something I've lived with for a long time; it is something that has slowly tried to kill me without dulling my ability to function. So it's not about having the luxury of staying in bed. There is plenty of time for sadness even if you manage to hold down a full-time job. No, it is about standing up and being strong when you'd rather hide away. Maybe even faking it for a while until being normal feels normal again. Looking at the bright side helps, even when letting go of the negativity feels like a great injustice.
In any case, I am having a good day, a hopeful day. I want to take this day, average as it is, and make copies of it and save those copies for when I need them. I want so desperately to be happy and to make Him happy. I know that it upsets Him when I am sad. I don't want to be a dead weight in our relationship. This is about more than D/s; this is about any relationship. I want to try to be better for us, so we can be stronger together.
He is planning some challenges for me in the weeks ahead. He is going to be gentle if it is needed, but he is also going to test me. I welcome these challenges. I welcome the chance to show Him that I am strong in my submission. I welcome the chance to prove that to myself. I hope that I can rise to the occasion and lose myself in the moment, feel that amazing crackle of electricity between us and do those amazing things that are possible only when we are truly connected. I have faith that that can happen again. What we have...it doesn't go away, ever. It is always there, even if it has been buried under layers of other emotions lately. I am reaching down into myself to find it, to bring it back.
It's not about indulgence. Depression is something I've lived with for a long time; it is something that has slowly tried to kill me without dulling my ability to function. So it's not about having the luxury of staying in bed. There is plenty of time for sadness even if you manage to hold down a full-time job. No, it is about standing up and being strong when you'd rather hide away. Maybe even faking it for a while until being normal feels normal again. Looking at the bright side helps, even when letting go of the negativity feels like a great injustice.
In any case, I am having a good day, a hopeful day. I want to take this day, average as it is, and make copies of it and save those copies for when I need them. I want so desperately to be happy and to make Him happy. I know that it upsets Him when I am sad. I don't want to be a dead weight in our relationship. This is about more than D/s; this is about any relationship. I want to try to be better for us, so we can be stronger together.
He is planning some challenges for me in the weeks ahead. He is going to be gentle if it is needed, but he is also going to test me. I welcome these challenges. I welcome the chance to show Him that I am strong in my submission. I welcome the chance to prove that to myself. I hope that I can rise to the occasion and lose myself in the moment, feel that amazing crackle of electricity between us and do those amazing things that are possible only when we are truly connected. I have faith that that can happen again. What we have...it doesn't go away, ever. It is always there, even if it has been buried under layers of other emotions lately. I am reaching down into myself to find it, to bring it back.
Back Slide
I remember spending some time in August reflecting on my submission. I thought about how far I'd come and how strong I was after the trials of the spring. I couldn't believe what He had led me to accomplish in those months. I wasn't afraid of anything that I had done in the past and was feeling like I could handle anything we approached next.
But now, at the start of October, I've had a major back slide. I can't point to any one thing, really. He has changed jobs recently and I have seen him a lot less. I've been taking care of myself a bit more because I've spend the time between weekends by myself. And for other reasons, those weekends we have spent together haven't included any overnights. If I was really under his control before, I have been relatively free for the last month.
It's strange how I can feel this submissive energy ebbing away. I had started to feel like a supersub, so confident that I had done something great, but all of that confidence has deserted me. I don't know if I could take some of the punishments that I took this summer now. I don't know if I could reach that blissful perfect state of submission to Him that I have often felt over the past few months.
The little things are so obviously wrong with me. I was completely unable to follow a simple order the other night, one that didn't mean a lot to me but really meant a lot to him. I got a "bad Kitten" for that, which made me feel even worse about myself. Last weekend I was mouthy with him in a way that was just completely unnecessary and didn't accomplish anything. I saw myself as a pretty terrible person after that, not to mention a bad submissive (and I think we can agree that the bar for good behavior is much higher for us than it is for non-submissive women).
At the same time, we've been talking about moving in together in a couple of months. I'm very excited about that prospect because I hate spending time away from him, but it means real 24/7 D/s not the improvised, sort of 24/7 thing that we've been doing for a year. It means ten times more control and no independent life for me to escape to. I've been living pretty heavily in that independent life lately and the thought of losing it altogether is extremely frightening right now. If I can't manage the small things, what will I do when I return home to him and be tested every night?
I know that I've been hiding. As my failures mount so do my doubts, and so does the draw of everything that is mine and mine only. I didn't need this three months ago as badly as I do now because now I have that much more to lose. The other night, he moved a plant in my bedroom (MY bedroom) and I lost it. He didn't want the plant next to the bed while he slept, so told me that it would be moved anytime that he stayed over and, when he moved in, it would have to be relocated permanently. Somehow, moving that plant on his orders became the biggest thing in the world. It symbolized everything that would change and my complete loss of control over all levels of my life. It showed me just how little say I would have over anything once he moved permanently into my life. It told me, unequivocally, that my home, my body, my possessions are no longer my own.
That stupid plant was evidence of everything that I had lost. I could let it go, accept that his needs trump my favored place for the plant, and move on with my life. Or I could dwell on it, worrying about everything else that will change and everything else that he will control. In my fragile state, I chose the route of anxiety. I could not find my way to acceptance.
That's where I still am as of this post. He knows how I am feeling and he recognized that the issue with the plant was not about home decor. He knows that I have lost my way and I think that he will be bearing down on me in order to bring me back into line. Because unless I find my way back? We'll never move forward.
Freedom
Any situation in which some individuals prevent others from engaging in the process of inquiry is one of violence. The means used are not important; to alienate human beings from their own decision making is to change them into objects. - Paulo Friere
We were discussing the status of my training and my occasional habit of treating my submission, as He says, "like something that can be put down when it is inconvenient." I know that he was only being constructive in his criticism, but that evaluation really hurt. I take my submission very seriously and have never thought that I could just put it down and pick it back up at will. But He sees more than I do, and if he is dissatisfied by my behavior from time to time, then that is what matters. I am sure that his perception on this issue is affected by my recent behavior with my friends, but I don't want this to turn into a regular habit for me. I have to fix this before it becomes a more serious issue.
I have been thinking about why I would treat my submission as something more casual than it is, even unconsciously. I have thought about my restrictions and compared them to the restrictions of many of the subs that I know - in comparison, I have it very easy. I get up every day whenever I want, choose my own clothes for the day, make my way to work and continue to make thousands of little decisions for myself throughout the day. If I am not set to see him that day, I make my way home, eat a dinner of my own choosing, and just make sure that I am in bed by my bedtime. If I do see him, I am subject to his commands and demands, but that is the case only two or three times a week. I am always subject to my general rules, but the proscriptions on my daily activities are minimal.
I told him that this may be why I am too casual about my submission sometimes. I feel free most of the time. I do not identify as a slave and there are times when I feel like I can do whatever I want. Most of the time, I can do whatever I want.
But when I told him this, he laughed quietly. "What?," I asked, wondering what was so funny.
"That you think you get to do whatever you want, Kitten," he said.
"But I do! I can wear whatever I want and go see my friends whenever I want and...," I trailed off as he shot me a look.
"You go to work and do your job. That's the only thing you're free to do. Everything else you do because I let you." I stared at him with my mouth slightly open, trying to understand what he was saying. He grabbed the back of my neck and brought my face close to his for emphasis. "You go see your little friends," he sneered, "and you think you have control but you don't. I let you go see them, but don't forget that that can stop at any time. I can stop any of this at any time. What you wear, what you eat, who you see, who you e-mail...I control all of it."
"But...," I stammered, "you wouldn't stop me from seeing my friends, would you?"
"Just try me. Then you'll know exactly how not free you are."
I think I have freedom but I don't really. This feeling that I carry with me throughout the day as I make all of my little decisions is just an illusion. All of those little things are inconsequential, anyway. I may feel important that I can choose between wearing a skirt and pants to work in the morning, but when it comes down to it, I have no control where it really matters. I am owned and I cannot lose sight of that. I cannot forget that, even though he is not there holding the back of my neck at all times, that I am completely under his control.
We were discussing the status of my training and my occasional habit of treating my submission, as He says, "like something that can be put down when it is inconvenient." I know that he was only being constructive in his criticism, but that evaluation really hurt. I take my submission very seriously and have never thought that I could just put it down and pick it back up at will. But He sees more than I do, and if he is dissatisfied by my behavior from time to time, then that is what matters. I am sure that his perception on this issue is affected by my recent behavior with my friends, but I don't want this to turn into a regular habit for me. I have to fix this before it becomes a more serious issue.
I have been thinking about why I would treat my submission as something more casual than it is, even unconsciously. I have thought about my restrictions and compared them to the restrictions of many of the subs that I know - in comparison, I have it very easy. I get up every day whenever I want, choose my own clothes for the day, make my way to work and continue to make thousands of little decisions for myself throughout the day. If I am not set to see him that day, I make my way home, eat a dinner of my own choosing, and just make sure that I am in bed by my bedtime. If I do see him, I am subject to his commands and demands, but that is the case only two or three times a week. I am always subject to my general rules, but the proscriptions on my daily activities are minimal.
I told him that this may be why I am too casual about my submission sometimes. I feel free most of the time. I do not identify as a slave and there are times when I feel like I can do whatever I want. Most of the time, I can do whatever I want.
But when I told him this, he laughed quietly. "What?," I asked, wondering what was so funny.
"That you think you get to do whatever you want, Kitten," he said.
"But I do! I can wear whatever I want and go see my friends whenever I want and...," I trailed off as he shot me a look.
"You go to work and do your job. That's the only thing you're free to do. Everything else you do because I let you." I stared at him with my mouth slightly open, trying to understand what he was saying. He grabbed the back of my neck and brought my face close to his for emphasis. "You go see your little friends," he sneered, "and you think you have control but you don't. I let you go see them, but don't forget that that can stop at any time. I can stop any of this at any time. What you wear, what you eat, who you see, who you e-mail...I control all of it."
"But...," I stammered, "you wouldn't stop me from seeing my friends, would you?"
"Just try me. Then you'll know exactly how not free you are."
I think I have freedom but I don't really. This feeling that I carry with me throughout the day as I make all of my little decisions is just an illusion. All of those little things are inconsequential, anyway. I may feel important that I can choose between wearing a skirt and pants to work in the morning, but when it comes down to it, I have no control where it really matters. I am owned and I cannot lose sight of that. I cannot forget that, even though he is not there holding the back of my neck at all times, that I am completely under his control.
Training Day
He thinks I give an amazing blow job. While I don't really know how to evaluate my skills, I've never had any complaints. My usual technique (if you can call it that) is all about variety - a mixture of licking, sucking, deep throating, etc. - so he never gets bored of the sensation.
So you can imagine my surprise when he told me that I was going to have to do some training. He wanted me to learn to take his cock all the way down my throat, so deep that my lips would rest at the base of his cock, and stay there. I can usually work my way pretty far down, but leaning how to go down that far and stay there was a real challenge.
Luckily my therapist has been teaching me some breathing techniques and I've used them to take his training and to really process it. In no time, I was calmly holding his cock in the back of my throat and looking up at him with my lips wrapped around the very base of his cock. I even managed to stay so calm that I sneaked my tongue out to caress his balls a bit.
There are two drawbacks that I am still working through. First, there is no way to control my saliva when he holds me in this position. It all just drips right down onto his crotch. Luckily, he loves a sopping wet blow job and it gives me quite a bit of lubrication if I am going to give him a hand job. Second, if I gag in this position, I really gag. It is the kind of gagging that comes all the way from deep in my esophagus and makes me afraid that I will throw up. He knows that I am afraid and he uses this against me, holding my head in position as I gag on his cock. He has told me that he will continue to subject me to training sessions until I can learn how to control my occasional gagging, even if it means that I have to learn how to gag and stay in position.
I love how I feel when he has set me to a specific task like this. I love how it feels to be put on my knees and told that we will be doing training and that there will be concrete guidelines. Casting what we are doing as "training" and requiring me to practice in a methodical way, all while doing my breathing exercises, has me feeling very focused lately. I feel like I can do anything, accomplish anything that he thinks I can do. All I need is for him to guide me and hold me in place and I can learn to do anything.
So you can imagine my surprise when he told me that I was going to have to do some training. He wanted me to learn to take his cock all the way down my throat, so deep that my lips would rest at the base of his cock, and stay there. I can usually work my way pretty far down, but leaning how to go down that far and stay there was a real challenge.
Luckily my therapist has been teaching me some breathing techniques and I've used them to take his training and to really process it. In no time, I was calmly holding his cock in the back of my throat and looking up at him with my lips wrapped around the very base of his cock. I even managed to stay so calm that I sneaked my tongue out to caress his balls a bit.
There are two drawbacks that I am still working through. First, there is no way to control my saliva when he holds me in this position. It all just drips right down onto his crotch. Luckily, he loves a sopping wet blow job and it gives me quite a bit of lubrication if I am going to give him a hand job. Second, if I gag in this position, I really gag. It is the kind of gagging that comes all the way from deep in my esophagus and makes me afraid that I will throw up. He knows that I am afraid and he uses this against me, holding my head in position as I gag on his cock. He has told me that he will continue to subject me to training sessions until I can learn how to control my occasional gagging, even if it means that I have to learn how to gag and stay in position.
I love how I feel when he has set me to a specific task like this. I love how it feels to be put on my knees and told that we will be doing training and that there will be concrete guidelines. Casting what we are doing as "training" and requiring me to practice in a methodical way, all while doing my breathing exercises, has me feeling very focused lately. I feel like I can do anything, accomplish anything that he thinks I can do. All I need is for him to guide me and hold me in place and I can learn to do anything.
Leash
"I'm tightening the leash on you, Kitten. That belt around your neck? I'm tightening it one notch. I think it's time."
I don't know what set Him off, but he made that proclamation one evening over the phone. I was already reeling from the events of earlier that afternoon.
Here's what had happened earlier: I recently joined a social networking site. I tried to keep him abreast of all of my communications, but he didn't like that certain people could contact me. He especially did not like that a strange man contacted me and pressed for a meeting, disrespecting his ownership of me.
That afternoon, a text message came through: I will be monitoring your page and making random spot checks.
And then: E-mail me your password. I will monitor your messages as well.
I sat, looking at my phone, mouth open. I put the phone down when it started shaking with the trembling of my hand.
One last text: Understand?
I managed to text back a quick, "yes sir," before turning off my phone completely. Maybe if the phone was off, I could stop him from marching any further into my life. Maybe if I cut off text messages, I wouldn't have to give up everything to him.
It didn't work, of course. After a tension-filled half-hour, I turned my phone back on and e-mailed him my password.
So back to later that night on the phone: I listened as he logged into my account and dissected my every message. He questioned my word choice and deemed my tone to be frequently too flirtatious. I hadn't been watching the tone of every message. I didn't think he'd ever read them.
I was upset that he had invaded my personal space and read all of my private messages. And now he was going to "tighten the leash"? Would he request that I give him all of my e-mail passwords? Would be demand to read all of my diaries?
He's never been a micromanager, but now he was doing something that I never thought he would do. What would he do next? I asked, but he wouldn't tell me. I think the anticipation, the dread of that line of thought, was the worst part.
No, actually, the worst part was that I didn't know why. What had I done wrong that made him decide to "step up my discipline"? I asked him, plaintively whining - why?
"Because it makes my cock hard, Kitten. Because I can and because it makes me fucking hard. And that's all the reason I need."
But what if I couldn't handle more? The last time he started bearing down on me, I almost cracked. What if I lost it again?
"Stop worrying. Breathe."
I took a deep breath. I sighed.
"I wouldn't do this if I thought you couldn't handle it. But anyway, you're asking the wrong questions. Instead of worrying about whether you can handle this, you should be asking - how can I please you more, serve you better. How can I be a better girl at all times. Those are your questions."
Please Him. Serve Him. Be a better girl. I'm repeating that to myself. I'm waiting for his next command.
I don't know what set Him off, but he made that proclamation one evening over the phone. I was already reeling from the events of earlier that afternoon.
Here's what had happened earlier: I recently joined a social networking site. I tried to keep him abreast of all of my communications, but he didn't like that certain people could contact me. He especially did not like that a strange man contacted me and pressed for a meeting, disrespecting his ownership of me.
That afternoon, a text message came through: I will be monitoring your page and making random spot checks.
And then: E-mail me your password. I will monitor your messages as well.
I sat, looking at my phone, mouth open. I put the phone down when it started shaking with the trembling of my hand.
One last text: Understand?
I managed to text back a quick, "yes sir," before turning off my phone completely. Maybe if the phone was off, I could stop him from marching any further into my life. Maybe if I cut off text messages, I wouldn't have to give up everything to him.
It didn't work, of course. After a tension-filled half-hour, I turned my phone back on and e-mailed him my password.
So back to later that night on the phone: I listened as he logged into my account and dissected my every message. He questioned my word choice and deemed my tone to be frequently too flirtatious. I hadn't been watching the tone of every message. I didn't think he'd ever read them.
I was upset that he had invaded my personal space and read all of my private messages. And now he was going to "tighten the leash"? Would he request that I give him all of my e-mail passwords? Would be demand to read all of my diaries?
He's never been a micromanager, but now he was doing something that I never thought he would do. What would he do next? I asked, but he wouldn't tell me. I think the anticipation, the dread of that line of thought, was the worst part.
No, actually, the worst part was that I didn't know why. What had I done wrong that made him decide to "step up my discipline"? I asked him, plaintively whining - why?
"Because it makes my cock hard, Kitten. Because I can and because it makes me fucking hard. And that's all the reason I need."
But what if I couldn't handle more? The last time he started bearing down on me, I almost cracked. What if I lost it again?
"Stop worrying. Breathe."
I took a deep breath. I sighed.
"I wouldn't do this if I thought you couldn't handle it. But anyway, you're asking the wrong questions. Instead of worrying about whether you can handle this, you should be asking - how can I please you more, serve you better. How can I be a better girl at all times. Those are your questions."
Please Him. Serve Him. Be a better girl. I'm repeating that to myself. I'm waiting for his next command.
What He Took
He was stroking my hair as I laid next to him. My breathing had just returned to normal after what I had told him. I felt a bit hollowed out, although I didn't know what was yet to come. I didn't know just how empty I would become.
I felt him lift his head off of the pillow and I did the same in response. I looked at him with a silent question in my eyes. "Go get it," he whispered. I frowned and paused, hesitant to get up. "Go now," he said more loudly and with a smack to my ass for emphasis. I pouted but soon scooted off to the other room.
When I came back into the room, my hands were behind my back. "What do you have there?," he asked quietly. He kept using this creepy, soft voice that was probably meant to lull me into a sense of calm but instead made me even more apprehensive.
"A bottle," I mumbled.
"A bottle of what?," he led.
"A bottle of stuff," I sassed, giggling at my pathetic attempt at avoidance.
He grabbed the front of my bra and pulled me to the ground in front of him. "This isn't a joke, little girl. Tell me what you're holding."
I looked at the ground. "An enema, sir."
"That's right. And where am I going to put it?"
"In my ass," I mumbled.
He put me over his knee, but not before he offered me my favorite stuffed animal to hold. I cried into the plush fur of the animal as he put me into position, overwhelmed by my littleness and the humiliation of what he was about to do to me. He held me close to him as he squeezed the liquid into me. His palm was resting on my back and he massaged me in slow circles.
I wanted to leave right away. I wanted to keep my head low and to flee the room immediately. But he was watching the clock and he made me stay. He held me firmly in place, no matter how much I whined or pleaded. I found it easier to bear the wait if I stayed still and breathed slowly. He smoothed down my hair and rubbed my back as he held me down. I sniffled a little bit from time to time, but the sudden crying that came from that place of disbelief of what he was about to do had passed.
I waited forever. His voice was so kind as he told me that I had to wait just a little longer, that no, it was not time to go yet. He said these things as if they were out of his control, as if there was no helping how long he was making me wait. And I believed him.
I know now that he did not have to make me wait a proscribed period of time and that he was delaying just because he could. I know rationally in my mind now that my discomfort was his pleasure and this was all about trust and my training. But at that moment? I felt like a little child, railing against the unfair imposition of a harsh rule. The strange thing was that, again in that moment, I identified with him. He was on my side. He didn't want to make me wait; he just had to.
And even stranger, the whole thing started to feel a little hot. His hand on my back and his soothing voice, the anticipation and the slight flush at my cheeks. This was complete and total control over my body. I didn't have anything left that he didn't control now. This was ownership and domination, the most invasive kind. Every part of me belonged to him and he could dictate my every inner working. There was no part of me that didn't belong to him.
He let me go and I rushed off with a sense of relief. While I was gone, I wondered what he must think of me now. What could he possibly think now that I let him do this to me?
When I walked back into the bedroom, he looked at me with a serious expression on his face. "Now there's nothing between us, Kitten." After what I had told him just before, this felt like so much, all at one time. I was exposed to him like never before. I laid down next to him, touching his face with my fingertips. He pulled me to him and I swear we melted together. We were the same person. There was nothing between us, no secrets, nothing we didn't share. Everything about me is a part of him. I closed my eyes and cuddled closer.
I felt him lift his head off of the pillow and I did the same in response. I looked at him with a silent question in my eyes. "Go get it," he whispered. I frowned and paused, hesitant to get up. "Go now," he said more loudly and with a smack to my ass for emphasis. I pouted but soon scooted off to the other room.
When I came back into the room, my hands were behind my back. "What do you have there?," he asked quietly. He kept using this creepy, soft voice that was probably meant to lull me into a sense of calm but instead made me even more apprehensive.
"A bottle," I mumbled.
"A bottle of what?," he led.
"A bottle of stuff," I sassed, giggling at my pathetic attempt at avoidance.
He grabbed the front of my bra and pulled me to the ground in front of him. "This isn't a joke, little girl. Tell me what you're holding."
I looked at the ground. "An enema, sir."
"That's right. And where am I going to put it?"
"In my ass," I mumbled.
He put me over his knee, but not before he offered me my favorite stuffed animal to hold. I cried into the plush fur of the animal as he put me into position, overwhelmed by my littleness and the humiliation of what he was about to do to me. He held me close to him as he squeezed the liquid into me. His palm was resting on my back and he massaged me in slow circles.
I wanted to leave right away. I wanted to keep my head low and to flee the room immediately. But he was watching the clock and he made me stay. He held me firmly in place, no matter how much I whined or pleaded. I found it easier to bear the wait if I stayed still and breathed slowly. He smoothed down my hair and rubbed my back as he held me down. I sniffled a little bit from time to time, but the sudden crying that came from that place of disbelief of what he was about to do had passed.
I waited forever. His voice was so kind as he told me that I had to wait just a little longer, that no, it was not time to go yet. He said these things as if they were out of his control, as if there was no helping how long he was making me wait. And I believed him.
I know now that he did not have to make me wait a proscribed period of time and that he was delaying just because he could. I know rationally in my mind now that my discomfort was his pleasure and this was all about trust and my training. But at that moment? I felt like a little child, railing against the unfair imposition of a harsh rule. The strange thing was that, again in that moment, I identified with him. He was on my side. He didn't want to make me wait; he just had to.
And even stranger, the whole thing started to feel a little hot. His hand on my back and his soothing voice, the anticipation and the slight flush at my cheeks. This was complete and total control over my body. I didn't have anything left that he didn't control now. This was ownership and domination, the most invasive kind. Every part of me belonged to him and he could dictate my every inner working. There was no part of me that didn't belong to him.
He let me go and I rushed off with a sense of relief. While I was gone, I wondered what he must think of me now. What could he possibly think now that I let him do this to me?
When I walked back into the bedroom, he looked at me with a serious expression on his face. "Now there's nothing between us, Kitten." After what I had told him just before, this felt like so much, all at one time. I was exposed to him like never before. I laid down next to him, touching his face with my fingertips. He pulled me to him and I swear we melted together. We were the same person. There was nothing between us, no secrets, nothing we didn't share. Everything about me is a part of him. I closed my eyes and cuddled closer.
Drown
"I had a dream last night that you were drowning me in the bathtub."
"Oh? Tell me about it."
"I was a couple of inches under the water and you were holding me down with your palm on my chest. The water was cold, like I was in a pool. And I could see you above me."
"You could see my face?"
"Yes, you were looking down on me. I could see you clearly through the water.
"Was I trying to kill you?"
"No, you were just holding me there. I was calm. I thought that I should be struggling, but I didn't. You were calm. You were just looking down at me."
"Have you ever fantasized about me drowning you when you were awake?"
"No, I don't think so. It just came out of nowhere and into my dream."
"See, Kitten. I own you even in your dreams. Remember that part of your rules that says that I own your soul?"
"Yes."
"Now you know what that means."
"Oh? Tell me about it."
"I was a couple of inches under the water and you were holding me down with your palm on my chest. The water was cold, like I was in a pool. And I could see you above me."
"You could see my face?"
"Yes, you were looking down on me. I could see you clearly through the water.
"Was I trying to kill you?"
"No, you were just holding me there. I was calm. I thought that I should be struggling, but I didn't. You were calm. You were just looking down at me."
"Have you ever fantasized about me drowning you when you were awake?"
"No, I don't think so. It just came out of nowhere and into my dream."
"See, Kitten. I own you even in your dreams. Remember that part of your rules that says that I own your soul?"
"Yes."
"Now you know what that means."
Assigned
We were lounging in bed together on Sunday morning, indulging in a little mutual masturbation and talking about a favorite fantasy of ours - sharing S. It really is such a shame that she is in a relationship with a vanilla man and has no idea what things with us would be like. Really, all we can do is fantasize as I doubt her situation will change anytime soon.
But we talked about her nonetheless. I asked Him during a pause in the conversation, "If S. came to play with us, do you think she could stay?"
He hesitated. "Would you like that?," he asked guardedly.
I thought for a moment. I wasn't sure. I'm not poly, at least I don't think I am at this point, but sharing ourselves completely with her, loving her and welcoming her into our lives, seemed so right at the moment. I shrugged.
"Kitten, I have an assignment for you." I looked up at him. He doesn't usually give me assignments. "I want you to find a girl for us."
Now it was my turn to hesitate. "One to stay?," I asked nervously.
"No, just one to play with us. I want to see you with her. I want you to do that for me."
Immediately, I was full of questions and anxiety. How would I find her, where should I even start to look? Oh god, would I have to resort to those terrifying BDSM personals? People would judge my pictures and the rejection...
He didn't want to take my questions. "Find a way, Kitten. That's all I'm going to say. Be a good girl for me and find her."
So here I am. Please, please help me! Have any of you gone through this? How did you find your girl? Or do you know of anyone who would be interested? Or would you be interested?
But we talked about her nonetheless. I asked Him during a pause in the conversation, "If S. came to play with us, do you think she could stay?"
He hesitated. "Would you like that?," he asked guardedly.
I thought for a moment. I wasn't sure. I'm not poly, at least I don't think I am at this point, but sharing ourselves completely with her, loving her and welcoming her into our lives, seemed so right at the moment. I shrugged.
"Kitten, I have an assignment for you." I looked up at him. He doesn't usually give me assignments. "I want you to find a girl for us."
Now it was my turn to hesitate. "One to stay?," I asked nervously.
"No, just one to play with us. I want to see you with her. I want you to do that for me."
Immediately, I was full of questions and anxiety. How would I find her, where should I even start to look? Oh god, would I have to resort to those terrifying BDSM personals? People would judge my pictures and the rejection...
He didn't want to take my questions. "Find a way, Kitten. That's all I'm going to say. Be a good girl for me and find her."
So here I am. Please, please help me! Have any of you gone through this? How did you find your girl? Or do you know of anyone who would be interested? Or would you be interested?
Repeat
When He and I started, my only rules were to obey and be honest with him. These weren't formal rules, more like an understanding between us. I have more formal rules now and these rules form my mantra.
Recently, we were having a disagreement about something minor, but I was feeling a little unfocused nonetheless. He had me get down on my knees, look up at him and repeat some things after him. Those things became my formal rules. I am to memorize them and repeat them to myself whenever I have lost my way or need to feel reconnected to him. They will be a sort of mantra for me, mental guidelines that I can turn to in times of crisis.
He also has expressed an intention to have me repeat my rules when it pleases him or to reinforce a lesson or punishment. This introduction of ritual - the kneeling, the repetition of set words - is new for us. He is relatively informal with me in the sense that I do not have to greet him a certain way or perform regular tasks on a daily basis. The only thing I regularly repeat for him is a description of my job ("to stay still and shut the fuck up"), which he usually makes me do when I'm resolutely not doing my job. ;-)
I don't mind the ritual aspect of it at all, it's just new for me. It may take some getting used to, but I am sure that it will become a bond between us in time. Anyway, the rules/mantra below:
1. I will obey your every command. No questions.
2. My place is at your feet, kneeling before you.
3. I will think before I speak at all times when in your presence.
4. I will be your good little girl, now and forever.
5. You own me...my body, my mind and my soul.
Recently, we were having a disagreement about something minor, but I was feeling a little unfocused nonetheless. He had me get down on my knees, look up at him and repeat some things after him. Those things became my formal rules. I am to memorize them and repeat them to myself whenever I have lost my way or need to feel reconnected to him. They will be a sort of mantra for me, mental guidelines that I can turn to in times of crisis.
He also has expressed an intention to have me repeat my rules when it pleases him or to reinforce a lesson or punishment. This introduction of ritual - the kneeling, the repetition of set words - is new for us. He is relatively informal with me in the sense that I do not have to greet him a certain way or perform regular tasks on a daily basis. The only thing I regularly repeat for him is a description of my job ("to stay still and shut the fuck up"), which he usually makes me do when I'm resolutely not doing my job. ;-)
I don't mind the ritual aspect of it at all, it's just new for me. It may take some getting used to, but I am sure that it will become a bond between us in time. Anyway, the rules/mantra below:
1. I will obey your every command. No questions.
2. My place is at your feet, kneeling before you.
3. I will think before I speak at all times when in your presence.
4. I will be your good little girl, now and forever.
5. You own me...my body, my mind and my soul.
Breaking, Part II
He said that he would break me a long time ago. He said it in the beginning, before I knew what that even meant. As he wore me down and crossed my limits, I felt things breaking inside of me and I started to grow afraid. I thought that he'd be wearing me down, exposing cracks in my psyche, reducing me to nothing. To me, breaking was a negative.
It made me worry about where we were going. If he broke me and broke me, there'd be a point where there'd be nothing left. I'd become a shell of myself. If there was no bottom to this, I'd just keep being reduced until I ceased to exist. The further down we went, the more apprehensive I became.
But then I realized - it was like an epiphany - that what he was doing wasn't breaking me down at all. He was breaking parts of me away, stripping all of the impurities, distilling me down to my very essence. All of the anxiety, all of the worry, all of the grasping for control - he stripped all of that away.
He left me clean and empty and pure. I am all shiny and new for him. He can fill me up with his thoughts, his desires. I am open and free, waiting patiently for him.
It is a whole new outlook - a positive outlook - and it is undoubtedly the right one. This is one based in my trust of him. It is the outlook he wanted me to have from the start. I am so proud that I have finally arrived here, even though the journey has been difficult. After all the struggle, I go forward with peace in my heart and a wonderful sense of clarity. I am strong and quiet. My eyes are wide open.
It made me worry about where we were going. If he broke me and broke me, there'd be a point where there'd be nothing left. I'd become a shell of myself. If there was no bottom to this, I'd just keep being reduced until I ceased to exist. The further down we went, the more apprehensive I became.
But then I realized - it was like an epiphany - that what he was doing wasn't breaking me down at all. He was breaking parts of me away, stripping all of the impurities, distilling me down to my very essence. All of the anxiety, all of the worry, all of the grasping for control - he stripped all of that away.
He left me clean and empty and pure. I am all shiny and new for him. He can fill me up with his thoughts, his desires. I am open and free, waiting patiently for him.
It is a whole new outlook - a positive outlook - and it is undoubtedly the right one. This is one based in my trust of him. It is the outlook he wanted me to have from the start. I am so proud that I have finally arrived here, even though the journey has been difficult. After all the struggle, I go forward with peace in my heart and a wonderful sense of clarity. I am strong and quiet. My eyes are wide open.
After, Part II
The impotent rage I felt that night didn't go away. If anything, it got worse. He knows that he hasn't totally broken me and that I am hanging on to the last little bit by a thread. He knows that I am clinging to that last little bit of what I used to be and that I am fighting with everything I have to hold on to that.
I have been focusing a lot on my impending trip, which is coming up faster and faster. I can feel the time slipping away. It is one more thing that I cannot control.
Funny how when I had all of the power, I couldn't give it away fast enough. Now that I am on the brink, I can't stop seeing where I am powerless. I cannot stop discovering instances where I am helpless and vulnerable, more reasons for me to hate him.
I know that there is a way out of this. I know that I built this prison for myself. I hold the key. I can leave, if I want. I can run. I can give in to that terrified voice in the back of my mind, the one that tells me that this will never end, that he will destroy me. I can run now and be far away before he wakes up. I can be in control again.
Or I can stop fighting and accept what I asked for. I can surrender to what I know is coming. I can stop worrying and stop desperately grasping for control. I can give up and float away. I can trust him - trust that he has control of everything, trust that he owns me and will take care of me. I can submit to Him. I will submit to Him.
I have been focusing a lot on my impending trip, which is coming up faster and faster. I can feel the time slipping away. It is one more thing that I cannot control.
Funny how when I had all of the power, I couldn't give it away fast enough. Now that I am on the brink, I can't stop seeing where I am powerless. I cannot stop discovering instances where I am helpless and vulnerable, more reasons for me to hate him.
I know that there is a way out of this. I know that I built this prison for myself. I hold the key. I can leave, if I want. I can run. I can give in to that terrified voice in the back of my mind, the one that tells me that this will never end, that he will destroy me. I can run now and be far away before he wakes up. I can be in control again.
Or I can stop fighting and accept what I asked for. I can surrender to what I know is coming. I can stop worrying and stop desperately grasping for control. I can give up and float away. I can trust him - trust that he has control of everything, trust that he owns me and will take care of me. I can submit to Him. I will submit to Him.
After
I'm not sure that I can describe what happened the other night. Even if I could describe everything, I don't know if I would be willing to share some of the details. I do know that a part of me fell away that night. I am not the same person I was a week ago.
He was pushing up against a limit of mine, one we hadn't discussed per se, but he know about. He had worked the areas around this limit before but he had never gone this far. In the end, he didn't push me over the edge. Instead, he took me right there and let me go. I fell over the edge on my own.
I knew that something inside me had snapped when I heard my own voice: the desperate begging in that little girl voice and the gasping, hyperventilating sobs. I wasn't there consciously. He brought me to that place and I fell backwards in time until I was at my most vulnerable place, somewhere completely exposed and defenseless.
It made me feel the most powerless that I have ever felt in my life. I almost could not bear the feeling of helplessness. It made me want to fight him at the same time I knew that to fight would be pointless. That made me resent him all the more, resent his control and where it had brought me.
He asked me what I was feeling, so I told him my only thought from the bottom of that pit of despair: "I hate you." It was the most honest thing I have ever said. I stared right at him with clear eyes. "I hate you." He made me say it over and over. God, it turned him on. I could see that fire in his eyes as he touched himself. He could see where he had brought me - to a place of completely helpless rage - and that turned him on. It was the most fascinating thing I have ever seen.
He started into my eyes with an unbelievable intensity. He held my gaze for a long time. He didn't blink. I could hear him inside my head. I don't feel comfortable sharing what he said, but he brought me to tears with his unspoken words. As he continued to stare into me, I could feel him physically inside my mind. I could see those dark rooms and could feel him opening doors.
I was dizzy. I blinked my eyes into focus and he was there looking at me with a curious expression on his face. He described the same things that I had seen before I could tell him. I felt, more than ever, that he had brought me to such a point that he could invade my mind.
"I own you, Kitten, every inch of you, inside and out. I own your will and your soul and your mind. You're mine forever. You're mine."
He was pushing up against a limit of mine, one we hadn't discussed per se, but he know about. He had worked the areas around this limit before but he had never gone this far. In the end, he didn't push me over the edge. Instead, he took me right there and let me go. I fell over the edge on my own.
I knew that something inside me had snapped when I heard my own voice: the desperate begging in that little girl voice and the gasping, hyperventilating sobs. I wasn't there consciously. He brought me to that place and I fell backwards in time until I was at my most vulnerable place, somewhere completely exposed and defenseless.
It made me feel the most powerless that I have ever felt in my life. I almost could not bear the feeling of helplessness. It made me want to fight him at the same time I knew that to fight would be pointless. That made me resent him all the more, resent his control and where it had brought me.
He asked me what I was feeling, so I told him my only thought from the bottom of that pit of despair: "I hate you." It was the most honest thing I have ever said. I stared right at him with clear eyes. "I hate you." He made me say it over and over. God, it turned him on. I could see that fire in his eyes as he touched himself. He could see where he had brought me - to a place of completely helpless rage - and that turned him on. It was the most fascinating thing I have ever seen.
He started into my eyes with an unbelievable intensity. He held my gaze for a long time. He didn't blink. I could hear him inside my head. I don't feel comfortable sharing what he said, but he brought me to tears with his unspoken words. As he continued to stare into me, I could feel him physically inside my mind. I could see those dark rooms and could feel him opening doors.
I was dizzy. I blinked my eyes into focus and he was there looking at me with a curious expression on his face. He described the same things that I had seen before I could tell him. I felt, more than ever, that he had brought me to such a point that he could invade my mind.
"I own you, Kitten, every inch of you, inside and out. I own your will and your soul and your mind. You're mine forever. You're mine."
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