Under His Hand

The journal of a slave

April A to Z — G is for…

G is for Gaming. Gamers. Games.

I don’t get it. I never have. Even as a teenager I didn’t “game” (not that there really were any back then, so maybe that’s not a fair assessment lol).

To me, the whole gaming addiction is as ridiculous as those “slaves” who only slave on Second Life and think it’s comparable to real life.

No, you’re really not saving the world/winning the war/being a hero just because you got mad joy stick skills, bro. And you don’t have a CLUE what service and obedience is like if you ain’t ever actually done it.

I think if your gaming is negatively affecting your REAL life, then you’ve got a problem. If you’re spending money that you shouldn’t, if your work is affected, if you’re staying up all night to game, if you’re neglecting or avoiding your family because they aren’t as *stimulating* as your make-believe world

Then you have a problem. And if you say you don’t, you’re in denial.

If you were my CHILD, and you were putting this much importance on a game; avoiding friends, skipping activities, homework was suffering, being late because you stayed up too late, as a parent, I would cut it off. Completely. Block the internet, take the comp or controller or system- whatever. Until your brain reset.

Now, sure, adults get to choose. If you, as an adult, want to live in your fake world of heroism while the real world spins behind you- go for it.

But you sure as fuck don’t get to choose ANYTHING free of consequences. You sure as fuck don’t get to drag bystanders down into the abyss with you.

Because I am also an adult and I also get to choose MY life.

I choose to live in the real world. I prefer real experiences.

I could go on Second Life. I could make a beautiful slave avatar who is the perfect representation of graceful obedience. And it’d be Fake As Fuck. I can’t even begin to see the appeal of that, honestly. No thanks.

But. My opinion is a little cynical probably since I’ve been on the other end of a gaming addiction.

I can almost guarantee you this though, if you’re a gamer and you have a spouse who isn’t a gamer- s/he feels the same way I do about it. And if you keep at it, you’re likely going to lose them in some way. Maybe all the way. Who knows?

So here’s the difference between giving an ultimatum and what I did. I did not say “If you don’t stop playing that game, I’m leaving.” (Ultimatum). I didn’t say “Delete the game- or else!” (Ultimatum)

I said “If this is the life you choose to live, then I’m going to have to make some decisions because this is not the life I want to live.” I’m not making any threats at all, because I honestly don’t KNOW what my decisions would be. Maybe nothing, maybe everything.

I acknowledged that it’s his life and his happiness at stake as well and that my intention is not to curtail or take that away from him. I also needed him to acknowledge that I’m a person with needs of my own, that I am as deserving of getting my needs met as he is.

If he’s changed, outgrown it, doesn’t want it anymore, that’s fine. People change. People grow and want different things at 20, 30, 40, 50. I get it. I’m certainly not the same person I was 10 years ago, either. If gaming is more fun than mastering, that’s a valid choice (I mean, not to me obvs, lol, but whatever.)

But then make that choice. Man up and say it. Don’t keep leading someone on and getting their hopes up, don’t keep making promises so you don’t have to deal with the consequences of your choice. Because that’s the coward’s way out, dude. Your s.o.? AT LEAST deserves that much. And YOU? Can AT LEAST accept the consequences.

You DO NOT get to have a happy, pleasant, eager to serve slave cooking your meals and bringing you ice cold beer and sucking your warm cock all day every day when you do nothing at all to put back into that. You just don’t. And if you think you do, you’re a douchebag.

If you think you do, you don’t understand how slaves work.

If you think you can get that? Good fucking luck. Let me know how long your relationship works. Because I’m genuinely curious.

A lot of people are going to say all of that *flaps hands at the above text* means I’m not a slave. Okay. So I’m not a slave.

Hold on… I’m trying to dig up some fucks to give.

I don’t care what label someone wants to put on me- or take from me. I care about my life, my relationship, my family, and our collective happiness and satisfaction.

Because when I die? How slavey I was, or was not, will not mean a fucking thing to ANYONE.

Every single day people die. Young, undeserving people in freak accidents, illnesses, car crashes. No warnings. No second chances. Just BOOM. Gone. The end.

So. Yeah. I don’t care if I’m not slave of the year. I don’t care if I’m violating the “code” by insisting I get something out of this, too, or I be allowed to find something just as satisfying as he has found in gaming to do with my life.

Slave of the year can suck my dick, honestly.

Master of the year can suck HIS dick, too. Because if/when he decides his relationship with me is *worth* letting go of a GAME, I’ve no doubt he’ll face some criticism, too. For caving. For caring. For “performing”. Because real masters don’t, you know. They don’t ever acknowledge their slaves or value them or care if they are happy and content.

Of course, those are usually single masters. Or they end up that way real fast. Or.. they’re pretend masters of their own universe who “own” miserable slaves, slaves who bitch and complain about their “masters” behind their backs. How do I know this? Heh. Because I talk to them.

So.. I don’t know. Maybe take stock of your relationship. Maybe some changes need to happen.

If you’re a gamer, it’s pretty likely.

April A to Z — F is for…

F is for FML.

I had a doctor’s appt this morning. It’s the first time I’ve been since we’ve moved here and even if I hadn’t wanted something specific, we needed to have a doctor. But I did want something specific. I wanted some sort of medication to help with the frequent migraines, and I wanted diet pills.

I got neither.

Instead, my blood pressure was so high it concerned her enough that she did an EKG in the office, literally laughed in my face at the idea of being put on diet pills before she’d sorted out my bp issues (not in a mean way, just genuinely amused), and when the EKG showed I was bradycardic, did a heart echo, and is going to have me wear a holter monitor, which I have to call tomorrow to get.

However, EKG’s are notoriously flawed AND I had my collar and cuffs on which is going to fuck with the results. Had I known I was going to do anything other than get prescriptions I might have taken them off. I always get funny looks when I say I can’t remove them when they ask lol. I guess “It only comes off with a key” isn’t something they hear very often.

So pretty much- lots of money spent on tests I probably don’t need and not the prescriptions I wanted. Bah humbug.

Also, F is for Fat. Which I still am. :D

April A to Z — E is for…

E is for Entertainment. Last night was so much fun. It was a group of celebrity impersonators/comedians. There was Austin Powers, Marilyn Monroe, Stallone, Robin Williams- and more that I’m forgetting. Not just local talent, but people who make a living doing this. The impersonator who played Stallone has been his double in his movies, the Marilyn impersonator was in People magazine as one of the best Monroe impersonators. They’ve been on tv, in movies, on stage, around the world. They were talented, and funny, and engaging. It was just what we needed- a mood lifter, something to pull us out of the funk.

When we got home, I got ass fraped (that’s a fun rape. get it?) I cried, it hurt, I bled, I begged– and then I came. Because masochist.

E is for Everything is good. (today. haha)


Also, E is for Egads!

Today is B-man’s 21st birthday. Ho-lee shit, how did I get so old?? (For reference, he was like 10 when I first started writing this blog. Our baby has grown up, guys. *sniffle*)

April A to Z — D is for…

D is for Date Night, something we try to do once or twice a month. We’d fallen into a rut of it being dinner and a movie, dinner and a movie, dinner and a movie – don’t get me wrong, I like having dinner out and watching a movie. But… you know. It was dinner and a movie.

So this time we bought tickets to… dinner and a SHOW. It is actually a murder mystery dinner theater, a play that is acted out while you eat. With audience participation? I’m not sure. We’ve never been before, and I’m really looking forward to it.

And we’ve promised to try other new things, even if we’re 90% sure it’s not for us. But just because we’ve never been. The ballet, the opera, the symphony, the Improv, concerts– we live in a huge city with a million things to do that go far beyond dinner and a movie. There are museums to explore, parks to visit, trails to hike.

And yet, we’ll still probably do dinner and a movie because we like dinner and a movie. We go to this cheesy little bar-slash-theater where they serve you beer and greasy bar food while you watch. It’s great.

We almost nixed tonight’s date night, though. Tensions are (were? lord please be past tense) running pretty high. But the road back begins with a single step.

D is for Determination. We just won’t quit. :D

I used to be a runner, wanting to bail the minute things got difficult. He effectively cut me off at the knees so I can’t do that and what I found when I was forced to stay and deal with difficult things is that difficult things can be dealt with. Even when all you really want to do is spit in their coffee and wring their neck. :)

Eventually, I got weary of being angry and I remembered that I really only have one recourse. I asked him what he wanted.

D is for Discussion, which we had last night. It was a different sort of discussion this time, though, because it wasn’t just me being contrite. Because I’m really not.

He absolutely gets to choose to lead the kind of life he wants to live, including the hobbies he wants to have. Even if that hobby is, in my opinion, to the exclusion of anything else. It is not in my power, nor is it my place to deliver ultimatums or orders. Nor do I want the kind of relationship that would work that way. Because ew.

But this is my life, too, and I make a truly sucky martyr. Life is short, life is precious, and in spite of being “just” a slave, I remain a sentient thinking feeling human being, with a whole list of my own wants and needs. He can choose to ignore those needs, that’s his right. And I can choose to not accept that as MY final answer.

So I needed to know what he wanted. Not from me, not what kind of behavior he wanted from me, but what kind of life did he want to have. Because if this was it? If this was going to be the pinnacle of life for him, then I might need to rethink my goals.

And if he was truly going to stand behind that this ISN’T the life he wanted, that he was only using it as a fill in because I had somehow gone off the rails and made his life unpleasant, then I needed to know if *he believed* there was a way to fix it, or not. Because I already believed it could be fixed but I’m part of a pair and I can’t do it alone. And if he did believe there was a way to fix it, what’s the first step? Give me guidance…. or man up and say it’s over so I can get on with things. I don’t exist in a state of limbo with very much grace, y’all. (I know. I hide that so well.)

D is for Deletion.

me: I blame your game addiction for every problem we currently have.
him: That’s not true. It’s not an addiction, it’s a distraction.
me: prove it.
him: *delete* There. It’s gone. Now what?
me: Now maybe I’ll get you back.

I am cautiously optimistic.

D is for Defense Mechanism.

Mine are running on high, and have been for awhile. If I can’t conquer them, I’m going to sabotage things before they even have a chance to be repaired. I’ll end up letting the damage win, and I desperately do not want that.

D is for Dirty Laundry.

It’s interesting to me, the negative bias against “airing dirty laundry”, and yet what I hear most often from readers is how much they appreciate that I show that it’s not always rainbows and butterflies, that sometimes it just sucks, that neither Master nor slave is- or has to be- a perfect, infallible being for M/s to work. Sometimes we fuck it up royally. Sometimes it’s me, and sometimes it’s him. Or both of us at the same fucking time.

I am not ashamed of that, of making mistakes. Nor am I embarrassed that I talk about them. The more I hear from people who are grateful that I do, the more I hear “me too!”, the more determined I am to continue being honest, not only about the wonderful amazing bits, but about the ugly side as well.

Smooth seas don’t make a skillful sailor- and by God, by now we should be able to sail around the world with one armed tied behind our backs. ;)

Lastly, D is for Do-over.

Luckily, we get as many as we want.

April A to Z — C is for…

C is for Communication through Constructive Criticism.

Wikipedia defines constructive criticism as “the process of offering valid and well-reasoned opinions about the work of others, usually involving both positive and negative comments, in a friendly manner rather than an oppositional one. The purpose of constructive criticism is to improve the outcome.”

I think constructive criticism is useful, necessary even, for me. It doesn’t translate – to me- as a negative critical judgment of who I am. Instead, what I hear is “I see you. I notice you. And I know you can do, can be, better. Here’s how..”

Especially as a slave whose need is to please. Especially for someone who thrives on tight expectations and high standards. Especially for someone like me.

So, if all I hear is “Everything is GREAT! Things are perfect! It’s awesome and amazing and wonderful!” and never, ever hear anything else, it loses any sense of complimentary feedback. Because nobody, least of all me, is perfect.

If I KNOW for a FACT that something is not perfect and wonderful and amazing and I specifically ask how this can be better and what I hear is Yes! That is perfect and wonderful and amazing! I’m going to become very very doubtful that that person is invested in me.

Because constructive criticism comes with a caveat. Especially if you’re a leader. Anyone who offers constructive criticism must also present alternative courses of action or options. They might even have to invest in follow through.

I like to think that I am open to constructive criticism (as opposed to destructive criticism). Of course I can get defensive, who doesn’t? But I generally consider the source. Is the person giving me constructive criticism my enemy? Are we on the same team? If the answer to those is that the person is NOT my enemy and that we ARE fighting for the same team, then I can lower my defenses.

The value in constructive feedback is in helping someone identify weaknesses and areas that could use improvement. If, apparently, I have zero areas that are weak or that need improvement (scoff!), then what is my motivation to try harder, to be better?

A constructive criticizer says “I want you to improve on your weakest areas. I wants you to succeed because I value you.” Constructive criticism says “I desire to see you become the best version of yourself.”

Lack of constructive criticism says “I don’t want to be bothered helping you improve. I don’t care if you’re the best version of you. I am not invested in you.”

There is no genuine communication going on between people who only share pleasantries. Or who are only allowed to share pleasantries. Or so I believe.

And yet…it’s said that constant criticism breeds contempt. It’s said that criticism is toxic to relationships. And I know that I have become a constant criticizer. Where the line is I have no idea. But I know replacing his lack of constructive criticism with my constant criticism is not working.

I do not think I am *wrong*, nor do I think I’m unjustified. But how much do those things matter, really, if what I want is to succeed, not to be crowned with being “right”?

C is also for Change.