Under His Hand

The journal of a slave


Master comes home today! In 7 hours, almost exactly. Not that I’m counting down or anything (yes I am)

I didn’t lose the extra 5 pounds he challenged me to drop. In fact I gained 2. Lulz. Oh well. I’m not in (any extra) trouble for not losing, and probably not for gaining I don’t think. Maybe. But I’m also heading into pms week so I want to believe the 2 pound difference is bloating and not the margaritas and party food I indulged in last week. Or the two days following where my ass was glued to the couch. Nah.. it’s pms. ~cough~

We have such a busy time ahead of us. Our friends will be here in two days. So excited! We have sight-seeing to do, a munch to go to, a kink party to attend. The following weekend there’s another party we’re going to. And then we’re trying to decide on taking a vacation or whether or not we’re going to move.

We don’t *have* to move. Our lease is up soon- can you believe it’s almost been a year? Sheesh. We’re not ready to buy anything yet so we’re still going to rent, but now that we know the area better, we have more options for where we can live. Moving out of this particular suburb, where it seems rent prices are higher because of the school district, and since we don’t need to worry about the school district, we could probably get a bigger house with a bigger yard for the same, if not less than what we’re currently paying. There are pros and cons to moving and it’s not my decision anyway (which sucks sometimes, lemme tell ya) but if he decides to go ahead with moving we won’t be able to take vacation right now. And that sucks too because we were going north to see Am and B-man and I am looking forward to that. But I’d also be quite on board with moving into a house that offers more space so we can set things up the way we want them, particularly play equipment *wink wink nudge nudge*.

Anyway. We’ll see how that turns out. :)

Master and I started to get into a little tiff a few days ago. At least this time we were able to recognize that we aren’t mad at each other, it’s just the frustrations of the separation getting to us. We have had the same little tiffs toward the end of his other trips as well. The closer it gets to time for him to come home, the longer the days seem to stretch. We’re anxious for it be over, we’re fed up with the communication difficulties of long distance.. and we’re both pretty horny lol. Apparently, that sometimes comes out in arguing over disappearing facebook links. *nods*

Before I run off out of here to pretend like i’ve been keeping the house spotless all month and to get showered, shaved and primped, just a quick word to the prize winners from last month: I haven’t forgotten you. I am working on it. In part I’ve been busy and when I haven’t been busy I’ve been lazy. I have supplies gathered and will commence creating after this busy busy week is over. Luv!


Thinking, whoring, blogging


Hee. He makes me laugh. :)

Only 9 more days until he comes home. This round has gone by super fast but I know his time back is going to go by even faster because we aren’t even going to be home for about half of it. We’re planning a long road trip, lots of people I want to see. Primarily my kids, my parents, his family– and some friends.

We are also having some visitors here for a weekend before we leave, so that will be fun. I’m hoping we can find a kink event to go to but if not that’s okay. We’ll find stuff to do.

I went to a play party last night, first time ever attending anything like that without Master. We’d had an interesting conversation a few days prior about playing, etc. He’s normally quite the non-sharer when it comes to me- in fact, he’s normally quite the “yeah, I think you don’t need to go without me at all, cunt” type of Owner-guy, but this event in particular had special circumstances so that I was going was already set. I hadn’t expected that I’d be allowed to do anything there so it was quite a shock to get permission not only to play, but to even fuck someone.

~blink blink~ Who the fuck are you and what have you done with my Master??

I knew that I wasn’t likely going to play OR fuck as I’m not the forward sort of person to arrange that for myself, plus I still don’t know very many people in the Houston scene, and certainly know less who’d be up for playing or fucking on the fly. I’m not sure what the motivation was behind this change of heart but I kind of love it a lot. :)

I know that doesn’t translate into “You have permission to become the town whore!”, but I could maybe sometimes be a whore. A small one perhaps.

He’s also said he’s been thinking a lot about gangbangs, throwing me to the wolves, that sort of thing. That had always been off the table due to his refusal to share. Now he’s got me all hot and bothered with possibilities.

Anyway, back to the play party without Master– I had fun there. I knew enough people that I was never alone and I met more people which is always great. It was weird being there without him, though, and I felt his absence pretty deeply. I’m not sure I’d realized how much I physically touch him when we’re out and I felt that emptiness from the lack of touch. It felt isolating, even though I wasn’t ever sitting alone or without someone talking to me. I’m very glad I went, everyone was great, the venue was great, lots and lots of people were playing. Truly a good party. I’m bolstered again, about the Houston scene. I know if Master had been there, we’d have played. So I’m a little wistful that way today.


I need to improve my fetish wear I guess. :-/

I’ve been thinking lately about the blog here, and how I can get a fresh perspective on it, or.. I don’t know… stoke the flames a little (for myself, particularly). Master’s mentioned maybe going back to having expectations on content, posts per week, writing assignments, etc. That would help but I’ve also got to figure some stuff out for myself, as well.

Have any of you gone through blogging slumps? What helped you to overcome it?

What about you as a reader- have you lost interest in reading certain blogs?

I’m really just trying to flush out what I want to do. Do I want to talk more about my daily life, specifically his expectations on my routine, chores, etc., or would I (or you) find that mind-numbingly boring? Sometimes I think the routine of it would help me focus more.

What would you like to see here? More of, less of, none of…


I’ve got two different topics here, both inspired by Chloe, cuz she rocks with the inspiration.

First, she wrote this bit on Culture Shock, which you should go read.

A short synopsis for those of you who won’t listen and go read it, you obstinate boobs: A woman she knows came from Iran, born and raised to be a submissive wife and how her submissive ways do NOT rely on her husband being dominant. She just IS. It’s a state of BEING. Not an active exchange of D/s. She is submissive regardless.

Here’s where I leave Chloe’s thoughts and start my own. Because Chloe’s post was just the spark, Fetlife (of course!) added fuel to the fire.

What happens on Fet is this: Some poor person makes a comment, something to the effect of “Master did so-n-so to remind me of my place.” Or “I need my collar to remind me of my place.” Or “We use ritual and protocal to remind me of my place.”

See the common thread there? Someone actually states that they need reminded of their place sometimes.

And all holy hell breaks loose on Fetlife. The holier-than-thou Submissives move in for the kill. Like a pack of Queen Bees, they snark and shame that poor girl into silence.

THEY do not need reminded of their place.

THEY do not understand how someone can forget their place.

THEY chose, and committed to being a slave, and therefore, the angels have smiled upon them and they shit perfect rainbows of submission.

THEY do not need reminded that they are mothers, or women, or wives, so how does one ever need to be reminded that they are slaves??

They shake their heads, tsk, roll their eyes, scoff.. just, yanno, generally be big bitches.

Women are SO GOOD at being bitches. So very good. I do think that may be why I decided not to be a lesbian after all. *nods* (And that I really really like cock, but that has nothing to do with this convo.)

So, in Chloe’s post, she was talking about how it’s the cultural norm for women in Iran to be submissive to their husbands, and how cool it is to witness that sort of marital D/s without the labels and the angst and the internet forum discussions. Watching D/s in its most organic form, I admit, would be pretty damn cool.

She also said she is working on (or has achieved?) that sort of organic submission herself. Where her submissiveness is not dependent on his dominance, how it just becomes the natural state of being and ceases relying on HIM to keep her in place. She stays there because… well, because. Because it just IS.

Now, don’t get me wrong here. I think Chloe is on to something profound and neat and it is definitely a goal to strive for.


Cuz there is always a but.

D/s is not the cultural norm in our society (which Chloe readily acknowledges), therefore, to me, it seems completely reasonable that women *today* who *choose* to submit, who haven’t been born and bred to do so, DO require a consistent and constant “force” from the other side to help them maintain that place.

At the very least, needing that active dominance is not, should not be, a shameful admission.

Just as one could say that if you are going to be a submissive then just be a submissive without requiring certain acts from your dominant, then shouldn’t it also be that if one is going to be a dominant, then just be dominant regardless of your submissive’s behaviors?

I’m really trying to imagine Master ordering me around if I *weren’t* submissive and how well that would NOT work.

I understand the point of just being submissive, of not relying so heavily upon the active dances, of finding the peace that reigns when it just is what it is.

Because, that’s really nice. And, I think I’m there actually. There’s not a system in place where my submission depends *entirely* upon his actions. Somehow, because he’s really really good at what he does, he’s taken my original kink, that need to be forced into submission, and turned it around so that doing it while being ignored, has become even kinkier than being forced (beaten into it).

I’m being forced by non-force. How fucked up is THAT?

However, there IS a give and take. There has to be because I am not an altruistic servant. I do require acts of dominance, they DO remind me of my place, I DO begin to falter without them, I AM fueled by his actions, and I DO need things from him.

Fortunately, dominance is also HIS state of being. It’s not work for him to be consistent and constant with his requirements. It just IS.

Therefore, I can just BE, as well.

Without some instances and acts of dominance and submission, we’re not M/s. We’re just… an old married couple, cruising along with the cultural norm. And that is so NOT what I want in this lifetime.

Which brings me to my next topic, which isn’t one of the original two that I mentioned earlier. In fact, I probably won’t get to the original second topic.


About that force fetish. I still have it.

It’s really strong too. It’s… deep-seated. It itches. It niggles at my brain, my soul! It’s- okay okay. It’s not quite THAT melodramatic, but close!

See, what I wanted when I first began fantasizing about BDSM was to be forced to do *everything*. To have my every move, my every activity of daily living be determined by a force other than myself. That doesn’t mean somene standing over me telling me what to eat weilding a whip- well, yes, actually it did. That is what I fantasized about, in my more extreme moments.

Mostly, the fantasy centered around having dire consequences for not obeying.

And by dire, I mean, banning me from American Idol or something.

No, not really. I’d hate that actually.

Remember when I talked about that Stephen King book about the abused wife? Rose Madder? That’s what I fantasized about. Getting to a place where to NOT obey ceased being an option.

And so, yanno, Master really doesn’t roll that way. Because, he’s not an abuser. And because he doesn’t think submission should require that much work.

He’s right.

So, after many months of figuring that out for myself and learning to submit out of more… pure… desires, I was still left with the very real, and very much unfulfilled, force fetish.

The other day, when I said I was playing up the martyr angle? I meant that! I am playing it up. Because that’s about the only way I can scratch that itch. It’s the only way we’ve found where he gets the easy submission he wants and I get the forcing I want.

There are SO MANY things about bdsm that I hate. That I really really loathe. And I am SO TIRED of having to pretend to enjoy them. It’s like, if I don’t pretend to enjoy it, then someone thinks badly of Master, and that really kills me, yanno? He’s such a good guy.

For instance, I don’t like pain. I just like having to endure it because there is no choice NOT to. I don’t crave the pain, I crave the humiliation of being beaten like a dog, of being tied down and hurt, of being forced to accept what I hate.

I think it works that way for a lot of people. At least, a lot of who I talk to say the same thing. It’s not the specific acts that pull you in, it’s the overall allure of being forced to do that which one hates.

So, I’m just not going to worry anymore about trying to save face. Even Master’s. He’s a big boy, he can handle the scrutiny (like how I tossed him under the bus? tee hee)

I’m not going to say “Oh yes I love it” whenever the question is asked, because I don’t love it. I hate it. I just love that he makes me do it anyway.

Sometimes I think even HE wants me to say that I love it when I don’t.

Sometimes I wish he’d get a touch more “abusive” with me. I wish he were more.. comfortable.. being thought of as an abuser. But that’s.. wow.. that’s really not fair to him.

God. The pressure people put you under to ease their own minds.

*wistful sigh*

This post is pretty weird, huh? Probably I should have chosen easier topics to get my groove back before going all crazy with letting my thoughts poor out.

Ah well. It is what it is, as Master would say.

Actually, this COULD be a prime example of me NEEDING one of those overt acts of dominance to remind me of my place. I told you I start to falter without them!


The Short List

* No baby. But she’s dilated to two. She really wanted to deliver yesterday because of the “cool” birthdate it would have been (07/08/09). And she really wanted to have her on the 4th because of the easy birthday parties she’d have had. “Look at those fireworks! I did them all for you, honey! Happy Birthday!” But now all the neat-o dates are over and she doesn’t care. If she hasn’t started by Sunday, they want her to check into the OB floor. I’ll keep you all posted! (I feel like we’re all in this together now, so, yanno, when I hit you up for diaper funds, don’t bail on me! ;-) )

* This morning’s walk/run was grueling. I was so. bloody. tired. I hardly jogged any of it and it took me almost ten minutes longer than it should have. Bah.

* But I spent most of the entire walk thinking about the details of last night’s fucking. There was foreplay. FOREPLAY! It were delish.

* Those of you who have those turian style slave collars, what tips and hints would you have for measuring and comfort and all of that? Like, is it better for it to lay low and loose or what?

* If I ever get diagnosed with a terminal illness and I spend what time I have left hating on people and being a bitch, slap me upside the head, mmmk? Promise? Life is too fucking short for that shit.

* Remember that child vs. slave post I did a bit ago where I’d gotten pissy over bedtime? Well, it happened again, this morning actually, when he started telling me how and where to walk. I got all “I know how to walk, goddammit!” on him. (Even though I am “doing it wrong!” and walking with traffic, I have my reasons for it so lemme ‘lone about it already!)

So, subtle had made a post about this very thing and I’d suspected that she’d hit on why I get pissy when I first read it. Now? I’m sure of it. It is exactly that. I mean, I don’t agree with *everything* she said (for instance, being told what to do about my career- or lack thereof- doesn’t push the same button as it does for her), but the distinction she made between being told what to do and being treated as if I’m too stupid to know what to do, is pretty spot on.

Not that I think Master is in any way trying to treat me like I’m stupid. At all. And I know he doesn’t think I’m stupid. He’s just.. really really bossy. Mostly, I adore that. But, yanno, if he ever tells me to brush my teeth, I might bite him.

Just sayin’.

*Hitler jokes are funny. So are dead baby jokes, fat jokes, Polish jokes, Priest jokes, gay jokes, girl-bashing, blonde-bashing, etc. etc. etc. Yes, it’s tasteless and I’m a horrible person. I feel bad. Really.

Okay, not really. I’m sorry you left your sense of humor in your other pants, though.

* Last week, I went into the doctor’s exam room with Jes because she was too afraid to argue with him about something, and the nurse says to me “Are you her friend, sister, what?” Hee. I told her she was my new BFF.

* Some kitty love to share:

This is Cranky Cat. Being cranky. This is how she reacts when you touch her before she’s decided you are allowed to touch her.

And this is Dracula. I caught him in a moment when he was looking very, um, Un-Dracula-like. And very stoopid-like. Someone needs to make a gif icon out of this (cuz I don’t know how).

Happy Thursday!


…and, boy, are my arms tired!

So far this morning:

*I cooked Master breakfast (bacon, egg and cheese biscuit sandwiches)

*reheated and packed Master’s lunch (leftover pot roast, garlic mashed taters and carrots)

*serviced him after his shower

*walked 2 1/2 miles (in less than 30min)

*made 5 gallons of laundry soap

*took a shower

It’s 7-freakin-30am.

It can be nap time now?

This early morning shit is for the birds.

At least Master is off that 4:30am rotation (for now anyway). Even though getting up at 5:30 is still suck-worthy, that one hour makes a HUGE difference.

And he can drive me down the road and drop me off now. When he was leaving at 5am, it was still dark and the last time I tried to go for a walk before the sun came up, I could hear howling (wolves? coyotes?) from way too close and there was rustling in the trees and I got all kinds of spooked. At least by 6am the sun is up and I’ll be able to see the animal as it attacks me.

I’m dieting/exercising with determination now. When I went in for my check up at the docs, she worried that I’m in the beginning stages of hypertension. Which, considering my family history, isn’t a huge shock. But after watching my mom deal with the medication side effects and the general health problems associated with her blood pressure and weight, I don’t wanna go there. I don’t need to lose anywhere near what she needs to lose, but I’d rather do it now than have to be trying to do it at her age.

So, Master said he wants me to do another 20 min on the treadmill (which he has set up on an incline, the heartless bastard) later today and maybe, if I have any energy left, I’ll try the Nordic Track, too.

We got the Nordic Track for free from Master’s boss. It’s a really old one but it works. Unfortunately, I’m about as uncoordinated as a kid on his first two-wheeler so getting the hang of how to move my arms and legs and not fall? Fun. Funny, too.

Kinda like this girl here. Hee.

Also, y’all have scared the dickens out of me over taking that prozac. I don’t wanna lose my orgasms! *sob* I’d rather have pms!

Yesterday I repotted all of the flowers in the flower boxes on the deck. I’d planted them in super cheap dirt and they weren’t faring so well so I bought the Miracle Grow potting soil to start over. I don’t know if they can be salvaged but I’m gonna try. They’re only petunias and they seem to be hardy little flowers. The herbs, however, were a lost cause. I dumped them out and just planted a couple of parsley plants. That’s the herb I use the most when it’s fresh anyway.

The tomatoes look great, the cucumber plant is growing.. the rest of the seeds haven’t done a damn thing. I figured this year would be difficult until I get a handle on the growing season/weather pattern so I’m not too disappointed. Next year, I’ll be ready.

The weather is fucking cooky up here. It’s July, yanno? I should not be seeing my breath when I go outside! We about froze our asses off at the fireworks. We all had jackets and blankets and we were still shivering. There was a week of temps in the upper 80’s and I sincerely think that was all the summer we’re going to have. And the kids want to get a pool? Wtf for, ice skating?

Speaking of pools.

The other day, in jest, I made a pithy comment in the Spankfest group on Fet about watersports and needing a snorkel.

Master’s Spankfest shopping list this morning? Snorkel, goggles and a wading pool.

A fucking wading pool!

What was my safeword again?

Oh, that’s right! I don’t have one!

I want a do-over. Hmmph.