Blogging. Not bdsm.

The bdsm is fine. Actually nothing has changed since the whole expectation/desire dilemma I posted about last month. He’s not bending to my will and increasing the play or giving me that which I crave (or used to crave). He’s doing nothing differently at all. And maybe that’s what makes it better. He is consistent, if nothing else, and consistency brings about it’s own relief.

He expects that I will toe the line and so, I do.

It’s kind of funny now. I stumble across other submissive’s journals now and then where she’s detailing those things that she needs – the rules, the discipline, the structure, the use, etc. Detailing what she needs in order to remain at her “personal best in service” and I just smile… Seems like we have no idea how well we’ll remain at our “personal best in service” regardless of what it is we think we need. Regardless of what we don’t get.

I had all of these things in mind when I first was drawn to bdsm. The things that I thought would make me feel owned, make me feel submissive and controlled and used. Turns out I wasn’t right on a single one of them. Not one.

Oh, not that those things of my early fantasies don’t make me feel *something* when I get them. They sure do. I feel lots of things. Pain and fear and arousal and humiliation – just to name a few. But those things don’t drive home the truth of being what I am. They’re too fleeting, too… superficial.

Here’s something that makes me feel owned. Master calling my place of employment, telling them that I have too many things to do at home to continue working there and that, as of that moment, I was finished.

Master informing me that my things to do at home involve packing up the entire house because we’re moving to another state. In a matter of weeks.

Him driving me to said state, pulling up in front of a house I’d never seen before and saying “here is where you’re going to live”. Him pointing out the seclusion, the isolation, the surrounding wilderness with that wicked little gleam in His eye and uttering ‘cunt in a cage’.

And then He left, traveling, leaving me with detailed instructions on what to do and how to do it and not once, for one second, does it even occur to Him that I will either not do it, or not do it right.

Sometimes I don’t know what to make of that kind of level of confidence and certainty. I don’t possess that. I don’t know how He does. Sometimes I think I want to see it falter, if only to reassure myself of His humanity. But I suppose I do better, convinced as I am, that He’s a God trapped in human form.

So. Not a single stroke. Not one tear. No sexual acts or golden showers or hours spent locked away. No nothing. Yet I’ve never felt more like property, never felt more powerless, never believed so deeply that I am owned, forever and ever amen, as I do right now.

As I was saying about blogging. I just don’t know where it fits in anymore. I don’t need it as I used to, it’s ceased to serve a purpose, except perhaps one of mild frustration. My life is traveling it’s course, the course mapped out by Him some several years before. The pieces are falling into place, the time is coming at a rapidly exceeding pace.

I no longer fight it or try to make sense of it. So why?

For now, the short and easy answer is because He’s not told me I can quit yet. I don’t know if, or when, He will. But if He did, I’d be ready.

I guess it goes without saying that the next couple of weeks will be pretty busy for me. I’m going to ask for a posting reprieve (again). You all have a good one. Maybe I’ll see ya on the flip side.

~cunt

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I know that alot of people watch their stats.. logging visitors and IP addresses and return visits and how long.. on and on.. I guess the possibilities for keeping stats are pretty wide. I don’t do that. Some days I wish I could, other days, MOST days, I’m glad I don’t. I’d obsess over it for sure. There is a counter on the pages where the pics are hosted and that’s enough to keep me happy. It bothers me really, that I do care about counters, or wonder about them at least. Anyway, for those of you that are watching.. and if it shows that I’m at your site seven or eight times a day… I am..lol. That’s what I do.. every time I sit down here, I run through the list. See if anyone has updated since I checked last. And I admit to getting angry (a lil bit) if no one has updated… because then I have nothing to do! This is really the only thing I do on the internet. I’m not a gamer or a chatter (I msn sometimes but not habitually), I don’t do research or read the news, I don’t do anything except go through my list of favorites… go do a chore.. come back and go through the list again.. so on and so on.

This is quite possibly an area I need to work on. It’s not healthy. Not that you all don’t have fascinating things to say… titillating, thought provoking, scene inspiring writers, all of you. I, however, am very fragile mentally. It’s true. I’m easily drawn into feelings of doubt and insecurity, too harshly affected by criticism or sensing hostility. Good uplifting feelings are quickly shattered simply by someone else’s post, a post that has absolutely nothing at all to do with me, but might touch negatively on an aspect of my relationship or a fetish… and I’m immediately flooded with thinking Master and I are “doing it wrong”.

I’m holding my relationship to blogville standards. Even as I know I’m doing it, and I know how wrong it is, how ridiculous it is, how damaging it is and how completely disrespectful it is to Him… I’m.Still.Doing.It.

Last night, bedtime. I’d been having a rough few days anyway, letting these doubts and crap take over my brain. I’m probably forever going to be insecure about Master’s devotion to bdsm. I don’t know why exactly… I continually reject the belief that He wants this as much as I do. Probably because He doesn’t obsess over it like I do. Because He’s just as likely to be “vanilla” for a day as He is to be a mean sadistic Bastard. (yes I can say that, He takes it as a compliment…:) And I’m so quick to make that mean more than it does… quick to turn it into the end all of our life as Master/slave if He isn’t constantly .. and I do mean constantly.. doing *something* bdsm-ish. So for days I’ve been hovering on the edge of sanity.. talking myself into believing He’s about to drop the bomb.. the “I don’t want to be your Master anymore” bomb. (reading back through the last few entries, how do I GET this way?) But I don’t want to be caught off guard with this bombshell, so I bring it up FIRST… rejection is easier when it’s your idea right? And out of the blue to Him.. but days and days of obsession for me, I tell Him… “Maybe I want to go vanilla.. do You?”

Of course the first thing He says is “where in the hell did THAT come from??” to which I just shrugged all nonchalantly.. like yanno, just something I’ve been considering as a viable option, no big deal, just wondering about your thoughts on it… when really, my very existence is waiting on His answer.. and the reasons I said it are more complicated than I can ever explain but I say none of that, just shrug.. and wait.

He says no. Firmly. Not only is HE not going vanilla, He reminds me that I don’t have the choice to go vanilla anyway. I’m still not convinced though. (Because I’m insane!) Because somewhere, somehow, He’s not measuring up to blogville standards. And He turns me around to Him and tilts my chin up and says “talk to me.. don’t write it out for your blog and wait for me to read it, talk to me.” How did He know. How does He know that the crux of my insecurities are coming from not having enough smut to write about… not enough beatings and sex and humiliation.. that I’m not able to *compete* with blogville. And not competing.. is making me feel vanilla. It’s making me act in a manner I otherwise wouldn’t to try and force Him into a punishment which at least gives me smut to write about. It’s making me forget why I wanted to be a slave, way way before I had the internet, let alone a blog. It’s making me question Him, which is the worst of it all. Losing faith.. over someone else’s standards.

We talked awhile… and He stroked my hair and my face. He told me how beautiful I am to Him, how much He loves me. And already knowing the answering but wanting to feel the way my tummy flips when He says it, I asked “Do I really not have a choice to be vanilla?”

His thumb traced over my lips and He smiled, “No, baby.”

Then we got up at 2am and had leftover meatballs and noodles. We sat naked in bed and fed each other.. and giggled. He admired and traced this bruise.
And this morning, all felt right with the world, things looked cheery… and as I helped the kids off to school I was singing this song:

I feel pretty,
Oh, so pretty,
I feel pretty and witty and bright!
And I pity
Any girl who isn’t me tonight.

I kissed Master off to work, started a roast in the crock pot, laughed with the kids over silly dreams they’d had the night before and then sat down here.

And read something. And lost all of that. Just that fast.

I’m laying all this out here because I want to be done with it. If it means the end of being able to do my own journal, at Master’s decision, then so be it. (I don’t *want* that at all. I truly enjoy writing this.) If it means I’m forbidden from reading anyone else.. or if the comments need to be turned off, or if I’m forbidden from commenting on others, or whatever it is.. Maybe nothing will happen. All I know is that I continually let this affect me way too much.

Does anyone else do that? The competition and feeling inadequate? If so, how do you handle it??

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