Hello. My name is Neurosis.

I guess my hiatus is over..lol. Since it was never Master approved it didn’t stand a chance anyway. (Using Master to cover up my LJ addiction much? *blush*)

Thanks for all of the support and advice. Amazing people you are and I’m a lucky little cunt to know you all.

Sugarplum sent me an email last night that made me cry. Because she loves me enough to be honest and makes me look at things with my eyes open. So, I’ve much to think about and much to talk with Master about.

Today is, of course, Thursday. See my gorgeous new icon from a friend here at LJ? Isn’t it perfect? Today I’m supposed to redo the cuttings on my breasts and I’m just not going to post any new pictures of it because, seriously, how redundant are those pictures? If you absolutely *must* see, check here or here. It never looks any different.

And can I waste time and energy and whine about how much I really do not want to do this today? It’s always this way when it’s been a while in-between sessions of pain, and added on to that my recent decision to reject slavery altogether, and I am one reluctant masochist right about now.

I didn’t tell you about rejecting slavery? How did that slip my mind I wonder!

I did. In fact, I do that once in awhile. I just up and decide it’s too hard and too complicated and too stressful and I’m quite finished with it. It was a nice ride but I’ll get off now, thank you. I can present a pretty convincing argument too, both to myself and to Master. He listens, and He sympathizes, and at points He will even agree with my assessment, leading me to believe that He’s on board with me, right? And then He just says no.

What the fuck. No! He can’t tell me no! I’m an adult, I live in the Land of the Free, I can do whatever I damn well want to do!

Right?

He doesn’t even really react to it anymore. He just lets me go, lets me wander (mentally) because He knows I won’t go far. I pull back just so far and then I panic. I’m scared ‘out there’ away from Him. I need Him. And the only way to have Him is to be His.

The only way to be His is to do what He says.

You know what’s funny? Years ago I used to fantasize about being a slave, like a lot of people who read me tell me they do. And now, I fantasize about not being a slave..lol. I used to have this romanticized vision of being an owned woman, controlled and obedient.. and now I have a romanticized vision of having a job and having friends and being normal.

In reality, of course I could walk away from this. Legally I can. Mentally and emotionally though? I’m as locked into Him and this as if I were already caged round the clock. So of course I’m going to go carve myself bloody for Him, and before I’ve made the final cut, my head will be exactly where He wants it to be and I’ll be grovelling and crying in genuine remorse at ever having thought I could be anything other than His cunt.

Until the next time.

I am entirely too much work.

~cunt

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To clarify

Gee. A whole 24 hour hiatus. However did I stand being away for so long!

Actually, it’s kind of bothering me that things were left so mysteriously. Leaving things to speculation and guesses and worry, and that’s just not my style. So, I’m going to explain a little bit, if for no other reason then to clear my own mind.

Master and I are not splitting up or anything like that.

And nobody found the journal that shouldn’t have. In fact, that comment led me to wonder if there is anyone who I would not want to read this and honestly, there isn’t. It would probably be a bit uncomfortable if one of the kids stumbled on it and I’m not going to point it out to them, but I’m seriously not ashamed of myself. I don’t hide it. Don’t need to.

What has happened, essentially, is a snag in the ol’ Master/slave works here. We’ve come to some road blocks that are threatening to tip the whole ship over.

That’s put me into quite a panic emotionally.

I can’t imagine living as anything other than His slave. I don’t want to go back to that life I used to have. I don’t want a vanilla marriage.

But things aren’t going so smoothly and I’m confused. There’s a direct conflict between ‘slave’ and ‘mom’ that is becoming increasingly more difficult for us to rectify.

It’s not a matter of either one of us being right or wrong. We are both “right” in our reasons and opinions. But because I’m at the bottom of the totem pole, I have to give in to His decisions and that’s becoming more and more difficult for me to do on some things concerning the kids.

Here’s a rather light ‘for instance’. A few weeks ago we got into a vicious argument over getting my 13 year old daughter a cell phone. I want to get her one for Christmas. Literally every single one of her friends has one (they come here. I see it. I know they do.) and being the odd man out is rough at the age of 13. Plus, to me, Christmas has always been about getting something magical, something that you would never have thought you would get, something that will make you squeal and jump up and down. This would do that for her. She will never expect it as Master has always been adamant that she won’t get a cell phone.

But mostly, I just want to do it. That’s what I want to get her. Period.

Master’s stance isn’t wrong or out of line. Except to me. I don’t agree with Him. He says that I agreed a long time ago that the kids wouldn’t get cell phones before I got one. And I probably did agree to that a long time ago. But who is going to buy me a cell phone? Him! And He’s locking me out of being able to get her one because He won’t buy me one. Not to mention that I don’t need one, nor do I want one, and she does.

He says she doesn’t *need* one. Well no. She doesn’t. It’s not life-threatening. Not unless you are 13 and you are only one in the entire 8th grade who doesn’t have one. Yeah, that’s drama-queen stuff but what *isn’t* drama-queen stuff when you are 13??

He said she had to prove herself responsible enough to have one. How can she do that if she doesn’t have one first?? I don’t get that point. She’s a normal kid. She takes care of things that are important to her and the rest of the stuff is in a pile on her floor. I don’t know how to address that.

He doesn’t want another bill to pay. And that’s really the trump card there. It’s not my money and I can’t dictate how it’s spent. He’s pulled me out of the work force and left me unable to make any financial decisions like that. That makes me angry and resentful of having given Him that power.

So I respond with wanting to yank back my submission, get a job and do these things that *I* feel need to be done for the kids.

Now really, the cell phone is a mild example. In the end, He agreed that I could get her one, a prepaid one where she’s essentially going to be proving her responsibility with it each month before we renew her minutes. That argument isn’t the reason we are here right now. It’s just one example.

There are other things and it’s become this constant battle. If we aren’t battling each other, I’m battling internally the sides of obedient slave and indulgent mother. I’m struggling more and more with obeying His decisions when those decisions conflict with what I think should be a priority concerning the kids.

When I said that I wasn’t confident of the direction of my life, I meant that I’m becoming more and more convinced that slavery and parenting do not work together.

Maybe it would have been different if I hadn’t been a single parent for so long and become so accustomed to doing things my way. Maybe if I had met Master when the kids were little and they themselves were okay with Him being the decision maker, instead of resenting it. Maybe if He had kids of His own, and had parenting experience, I wouldn’t so often feel like He just plain doesn’t know what He’s doing when it comes to kids, and could better accept His decisions as informed and in the kids best interest, instead of questioning and doubting.

It’s all becoming tangled up with trust and faith and once those things start to crumble, there is no foundation for BDSM.

But did I mention that the very thought of not being exactly what I’ve always been to Him makes me want to die?

*sigh*

So that’s it. That’s the Latest and Greatest of drama in kaya’s world.

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This is not a good day. I am not at all confident of the direction of my life, and less importantly, of this journal.

I’m not trying to be cryptic, I’m just really unsure of any details right now. When things get shaky, my first response is to pull back. I don’t know when I’ll be back.

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It counts as a post. Master said so.

I think I’m still on a punkin pie high because I’m brain dead. So instead of any sort of substantive slave-like post or exciting smut, I give you this.

This would be the completely lazy manner in which I communicate with my daughter. In the same house. About 20 feet away.

Email.

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Sleepsucking

Master is a randy sort of fellow. His libido is high, much higher than normal I think. Not that I’m complaining, although I have complained on occasion. When my crotch is so tender that it throbs, my jaw aches or the very thought of fucking again makes me want to cry.

But this time I am not complaining. Simply stating fact. He’s a sexual fiend.

He’s also a light sleeper and when He wakes up at odd hours of the night, I believe the first thought that enters His mind is sexual. Though He has no hesitations about waking me up and using me, He doesn’t always. He will quite often take matters into His own hands.

He doesn’t do that because He prefers masturbation. It’s not because He’s being kind and letting me sleep. Not that He isn’t kind like that at times, this is just not an example of it. He does it because He loves what happens at the end.

He feeds me in my sleep. And I suckle from the end of His cock like a hungry babe. He likes that. A very lot.

He stands at my side of the bed, where I’m most often sleeping on my side facing the edge. When He’s just about to come, He taps me on my head and I lift my head up, open my mouth, and swallow what He gives me.

Most of the time, I wake up just enough to wrap my lips around the head of His cock, suck and swallow, and then immediately drift off again. Sometimes though, I don’t really wake up nor will I remember it the next morning. I’ll perform as I’m supposed to in my sleep and the only clue I will have is, perhaps, a dried streak along my cheek from a lost spurt, or maybe a sticky clump in my hair. When I discover these things the next day, I’ll ask Him, shyly, embarrassed at actually needing to ask. Did You come on me last night? And He grins and nods and proceeds to describe how I raise my head and open my mouth without a word, without cracking open my eyes, pulling the end of His cock into my mouth and drinking, silently, until He pulls away.

Or, at some point during the day, maybe even a day or two later, it’ll come to me. A wispy memory, like those of a dream that you try to recall but can’t. Maybe I’ll ask, maybe I won’t. He doesn’t tell me if I don’t ask, and I’m not sure which He prefers. To have done it, and to know that I respond so completely, so automatically, that I don’t even wake or commit it to memory? I suspect He likes that. Hoarding it like a naughty little secret. A headgame in which I am the only playing piece.

I wonder just how often it’s been done and I don’t have any clue. How much of His sperm have I ingested. I suspect it’s a lot. His semen is a dietary staple for me.

Pictures taken from a video of a time that I do actually remember.

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I’m good at quickies. :D

Things here are hectic, stressful and busy. Trying to get things arranged so we can make the trip to my family for Thanksgiving. Thank God Master is coming with me or I don’t think I could take them by myself. He makes me feel less vulnerable when I’m around them. And there are some people there that I’m really looking forward to seeing.

Since I’m the one traveling the farthest, I’m excused from having to bring any complicated dishes. I get to bring the raw vegetables and make the pickle/dried beef/cream cheese roll things. I think I’ll make that strawberry jello mold that diedre posted too. It sounds yummy.

Master is home still, which severely limits my internet time is very nice. ;) We’ve had some hot and heavy romps in the sack, but no other hard play. Which is fine because I’m pretty focused on getting down to my parents and back home with my sanity intact and I don’t think I could get into a play session anyway.

One of our romps was apparently a little too rambunctious. We’d finished, and as usual, I was sent out to fetch the after-hot-n-sloppy-sex necessities. Namely, a tall glass of cold water to re-hydrate the man I had just sucked into dehydration and a wash cloth to scrub the globs of my come off His scrotum. (How’s that mental image working on your appetite, eh? :D) It was late at night, just around midnight or so and I was clunking around in the kitchen when my 13 yr old appears at the bottom of the stairs.

“The next time you are going to ‘do it’, could you ‘do it’ a little quieter?” She said with way too much haughtiness to suit me. “You woke me up.” And then she stared at me like I was supposed to feel guilty or something.

And yet, I didn’t. Ha. I know she didn’t hear anything too traumatic because we weren’t talking and there was no smacking or slapping going on. All she heard was a squeaky bed. I just blew her a kiss and she rolled her eyes and stomped back upstairs.

Well. I’ve always told the kids that I don’t have a college fund for them, I have a therapy fund. :D

Speaking of therapy, I’m pretty reluctant to try therapy for the kissing thang. I very much appreciate the suggestion and I’m pleased that it was successful for those of you who went to therapy, but I’m… I don’t know. I’m just not seeing that as an option. I’m not sure that it would be of any benefit to me if I didn’t explain all the intimate details of this BDSM thing, and the last time I had to broach the subject of BDSM with a therapist, that became the focus. More specifically, any issues I had were blamed on the BDSM and the focus became more how I needed to stop dabbling in that. I know there are kink-friendly therapists but the whole experience left a bad taste in my mouth.

We’re talking and going over the suggestions left in the comments and emails. I’ve noticed that He’s pulled back a LOT since reading that entry. I had thought that He knew how it affected me, and He did, but not to the extent that it does. He’s concerned and determined to fix it with me.

I think I have figured out why it seems to be getting worse instead of better. The more powerless that I’m realizing that I am, the more I understand that He could, if He wanted, pin me down and kiss me…and here the next illogical thought that follows in my head is pin me down and kiss me and then I’ll die. That is what I think. That I would suffocate and die. So each time He even moves in for a kiss, the panic sequence begins. He also pointed out that He typically either holds my face or places a hand on the back of my head when He’s kissing me, both of those movements increase the panic and feeling of helplessness.

So He’s been careful these last few days to keep His hands off of me and to keep kisses at slow, easy pecks. And it’s done wonders at making me feel a little more at ease when He starts moving toward my mouth. I still tense up and have to force myself not to bolt, but just knowing that He knows and isn’t going to force it, is comforting. It’s a step in the right direction.

lizzy suggested that, among other things, I write fantasy stories with kissing as a part of it. I’ve tried to imagine even adding kissing into a hot fantasy scene and I just can’t. It has no place in “hot fantasy scenes” for me. Kissing is snuff story material..lol

Otherwise, most of the suggestions are wonderful. I’m really liking the wine sharing suggestion. ;) That sounds tasty as well as therapeutic.

I like the idea of Him lying still and letting me kiss Him, but truthfully, I can’t see myself doing it. I don’t know how to battle the nausea and bad feelings enough to do it. I’m not ruling it out though. Maybe it’ll just take that first time to get over the bad hump, right? Just maybe I’ll do it like.. tomorrow. Or next week. Not today.

As it is, we’re peck-kissing and I’m really good with that. I’ll initiate that myself because it’s safe. We can peck for a long time. Yeah. Pecking is good.

It’s been a huge confidence booster to have so many of you come out and say “me too!”. That really lifted my spirits considerably. So thank you for that. :-)

If I don’t make it back this way before the holiday, I hope you all have a wonderful Day of Too Much Food.

~cunt

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Real quick

For all of you who shared my hermit crab horror.

I received a phone call today from the manager of the wal-mart where I bought the crabs. She was appeared to be concerned about the complaints I listed in the email.

The sad thing is that she was asking me how the crabs are supposed to be taken care of. It was obvious that she had no clue that they couldn’t survive in a dry tupperware bowl.

The good thing is that she did seem to be listening to me. She asked a lot of questions while I gave out what little knowledge I have. Why is the humidity important. Why isn’t the store temperature warm enough. Why can’t they use tap water. Etc. Etc.

I was very clear about the dates that I was there and what I saw. She agreed that they probably had been “shelved” for about two weeks and she couldn’t say if any associate knew enough to tend to them during those two weeks. In fact she said “as far as I knew, they(the crabs) were self-sufficient.”

She wouldn’t confirm if any dead ones -like the ones I saw on the shelves- had been disposed of. She claimed they don’t keep track of that, just like they don’t count the dead fish they scoop out of the tanks.

I’m surprised that anyone read the email in the first place and more surprised that I was called and listened to. I’m encouraged by the interest and what I felt was genuine concern from her about the mistreatment of these animals.

Though I hope they don’t sell any more, if they do, just maybe this store will keep them under better conditions. You can bet if I’m in there and see them, I’ll raise holy hell with the manager. They can’t claim ignorance now.

If you are in a wal-mart and you see these little uglies in a cup, please speak up. Or email the store. It appears they might actually listen.

Thanks so much for the support.

And mine are doing well. My little food hoarder actually walked away from a grape yesterday. That is such a great sign.

:D

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Christmas in Tokyo

With a purposeful grimace and a terrible sound
He pulls the spitting high tension wires down

Helpless people on a subway train
Scream bug-eyed as he looks in on them

He picks up a bus and he throws it back down
As he wades through the buildings toward the center of town

Oh no, they say hes got to go
Go go godzilla, yeah
Oh no, there goes tokyo
Go go godzilla, yeah

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Gratitude

We were out of town all day. The responses you all left on that last post are… so incredibly wonderful.

Thank you. From the bottom of my heart. From both of us.

I’ll get back to you, I promise. We’re going to talk and talk some more. Try to see what the best plan of action is.

I feel so loved! Hugs and hugs to all of you!

~cunt

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Every Kiss begins with Kay!

Do you all have that same commercial? If not, Kay’s is a jewelry store and that’s their jingle. A couple of weeks ago, it had played and Master was like “hey! Every kiss does begin with a k!” which made me snicker. He just thought they were trying to say that every kiss begins with jewelry from their store. *snicker snicker*

Anyway, I mentioned some flashback issues I’ve been having and it is all about kissing.

I’m generally in a fairly healthy place mentally when I think back on the past. I can be pretty objective about it, recognize it for a bad experience, and don’t let it color too much of my present. Most of the memories that I have are sterile, in that I don’t have any overtly emotional reaction to them.

‘What’s done is done, time to move on’ is my general attitude. Except for when I think about the kissing. That’s the only thing that immediately puts me in a bad place emotionally. When I think about how they held my face and forced their tongues into my mouth, the intimacy of their lips on mine, how I felt like I was suffocating. The smell of their breath, and how it felt so so wrong to be inhaling what they were exhaling. I get nauseous at the memory. And angry.

It’s not new, this kissing thing. I’ve always avoided kissing. I’ve just been with men who either didn’t notice or didn’t care. I’m okay with quick pecks on the lips. I was okay with a french kiss as long as it was short, as long as I knew it was coming and was warmed up with some pecks so I could steel myself for the tongue invasion. But I would always be the one to pull away quickly, and to turn my head during sex, keeping my mouth out of range of theirs.

Master is aware of this too. And though He likes kissing, He’s pretty decent about respecting my feelings on it.

The problem is that now it’s steadily getting worse. On the occasion that He does come up and swoop me up in what is supposed to be a toe-tingling intimate kiss, I practically shove Him away. I can’t stop myself from wiping my mouth off, and have even gone so far as to run to the sink and spit, shuddering and trying not to gag. I’ll almost be in tears and will admonish Him to “don’t DO that!”

As I say that, I can see the hurt on His face. I feel terribly guilty and ashamed. Yet, I can’t seem to get this under control. I can sense that He’s struggling somewhat, and has the urge to force it. To pull out the Dom trump card and try and conquer this through a will stronger than mine. And I know He’s hesitating because this is a psychological problem, not just a limit or a preference of mine. I don’t want to be like this. I want to enjoy it and I want to stop seeing that hurt in His eyes when I pull away from Him in revulsion.

Saying “its not You, its me” is only so comforting and I know that. It used to be that if He would approach the whole kissing thing very slowly, I’d be okay. But more and more often, all I can manage are those dry, impersonal pecks on the lips.

And it’s not the spit factor, as someone suggested once. He has spit on my face or in my mouth plenty of times and I don’t have the same reaction at all. He’s fed me food from His mouth and that doesn’t bother me either. It’s the kissing.

I was hoping that someone out there has had a similar irrational reaction to something and might know some steps to overcome it. I hate knowing I’m hurting His feelings. :(

~cunt

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