“It took me a long time not to judge myself through someone else’s eyes.” (‘cept Master’s, of course!)

I have one word to describe today’s particular suffering.

TAXES.

’Nuf said.

Master is feeling better, but of course he’s at work. There are just not enough hours in the day and why is it that playing is always the very first thing to be crossed off when time crimps our style?? I’m lodging an official complaint with the discrimination board (Otherwise known as The Toilet in our house).

I’ve been telling Master that we’re going to have to start renting a room in one of those seedy motels that charge by the hour just to get some pain and fucking done. I’m beyond patiently waiting, beyond jonesin’ and well into "wtf, chuck? GIVE ME WHAT I WANT OR ELSE!"

Anyway. B-man had a birthday recently. He’s officially a teenager now.

Notice how pleased I am.

No really. Teenagers are fun. *cough*

Part of his gift was a couple of heavy metal band t-shirts from Hot Topic (where I also picked up a pair of black hooker boots for 50% off! Master was notably turned on. *beams*) and he informed me yesterday after wearing them to school all week that because he doesn’t know enough about heavy metal bands, he’s been labeled a "poser" by a couple of *true* heavy metal band fans.

Isn’t THAT a familiar phenomenon?

So I told him how ridiculous that is, that one doesn’t need to know the band’s facts and stats to like their music and wear a freakin’ t-shirt, ffs. I said, well B-man, you can either spend hours on Google studying up on your band-faqs and dazzle these supposed *true* fans of heavy metal with your brilliance. OR, alternately, you can tell them to get fucked. Your choice, really.

I don’t know which he will do but I did notice that he spent zero time on Google researching band info and that he went to school this morning wearing a Lamb of God tee.

Atta boy.

But speaking of *true* vs. posers, I read this post on Bondage Blog this morning. Now, admittedly I’m a little biased toward Rope Guy cuz he rocks my socks with the awesomeness of his blog (perverted yet sophisticated, twisted yet suave, kinky but with class) but more than having a blog chock full of pictures of beauties in bondage, he’s really quite intelligent, articulate, polite and…. what’s that? My nose is brown? *snicker* Honestly though, he has a great site.

He spoke in this post about the tendency of some to leave the "you’re not doing it right" comments. I get more than my fair share of those, but I know I’m not the only one who gets them. He pointed out the difference between internal judging, which is to decide in your own mind that you don’t like the content, to decide not to link to it, read it, or to participate in it, and external communication, which is, of course, leaving rude comments that do little more than advertise your own stupidity.

I do hope that those who really believe they are doing a service by pointing out how someone isn’t "doing it right" will read his post. No doubt there are some who honestly think they are being helpful in offering that observation.

I think though, that the majority of those types of comments that I get here have very little to do with a person’s genuine interest in informing us that we are "doing it wrong" and more to do with me (and my fellow readers who like to defend me with scathing replies) feeding the situation. And of course I’m appreciative of those defensive comments on my behalf. Even though I know it’s only acerbating the situation, it’s a refreshing welcome sometimes.

Which is exactly why the comments are being moderated. What starts out as a perfectly civil disagreement or difference of opinion (which I have no problem with, btw) almost always ends up as an insult-firing, cyber WWF-esque bash-fest. People, myself included, respond to a impolite comment with a meaner comment then with a more vicious comment until finally, there is not even a pretense of civility left and the original topic being politely disagreed upon is lost in "you’re fat" and "you’re mom wears combat boots" type mud-slinging.

I have become the blogging equivalent of Jerry Springer.

I actually enjoy the debates that occasionally spring up in the comments when it manages to remain as such. But it never does remain polite. We’re such… women… about it. *snicker* (kidding! that was a joke. Lighten up already!)

What I hear on a rather frequent basis, and what I mentioned in my comment to Rope Guy, is that some people seem to think that since I have a public site, I’m obligated to tolerate those sorts of comments. That public blog is synonymous with open forum when nothing could be farther from the truth.

The fact that I moved *away* from a public forum (livejournal), where I did not have any say or control in how it was ran, to my very own bought-n-paid-for domain, with my very own paid-for host and my very own site means I am even less obligated to allow for that sort of behavior. This is not an open forum unless I happen to be in the mood to let it be. The fact that it’s my credit card (well, Master’s if you must get technical) that pays for this service means that I get to decide on a minute to minute basis if I want to hear what anyone has to say.

I do not understand why that seems to be a disputable fact for some people. I am not required to listen to what anyone has to say about what I choose to share merely because I put it out there. I am not obligated to give anyone a place to speak their mind, to agree with or condemn my choices. Website does not equal open forum for bitchiness. Unless it’s me doing the bitching. If someone wants that same privilege, they can pay for their own site.

Fortunately, I’m blessed with a majority of intelligent, mature, accepting readers who just intrinsically get it. Get me, get us, get what we’re about – even if they don’t engage in it, or even just get the notion of blogging. And to thank you I’m sharing porn that is not mine..lol

From Device Bondage, where they really know the meaning of predicament-bondage, which just happens to be one of my all-time fav-o-rite things. This place makes me lust, it makes me crazy, it makes me want to move there (wherever ’there’ is). It makes me want to learn how to bend metal and make the things they have!

Do those inspire you to be be kinky or what??

~cunt

I’m being a rotten little slave girl today. I’m tired and lazy and I’m sitting on my big butt doing nothing. I even took a nap. And you know what? Master loves me and I’m quite certain He really won’t care. I’m not breaking any rules or otherwise doing anything “wrong”. So.. there ya go.

So since I’m aimlessly and lazily wandering around the net, I come across some woman’s post about Delia Day. For anyone who doesn’t know, Delia Day was a sex slave who apparently shot her Master one night. Nobody seems to know the details or the truths, only that she was acquitted of the murder charge with the self-defense plea. Rumors and speculation abound… message boards and emails and everything under the sun have been floating around for a year and a half? Two years now?

Now, I’m just as morbidly curious about this woman and the truth of her relationship, what was really going on behind closed doors as the next person out there. Who doesn’t want to know the reason that anyone killed anyone, especially when you throw some power exchange in the mix. My curiousity though, is NOT because I’m “worried” that I’m going to turn on my Master.

That whole reasoning is so ridiculously absurd. And this woman’s blog and the resulting comments, have taken this story of Delia Day as some sort of iconic proof that power exchange is fundamentally flawed. That THINGS LIKE MURDER will undoubtedly occur because handing our will over to Master is somehow synonymous with becoming retarded to this group.

People like that just set my teeth on edge. It makes me just want to put one hand on either side of their ickle skulls and very harshly bang them together. These people are so disgustingly smug in their certainty that they *know* all about us “lifestyler’s”… they know the states of denial we are in. They shake their heads in pity of the tragedy of us “poor ignorant folk” who don’t know we’re being abused even when it walks right up and smacks us on the ass.

Oh woe is me.

Doesn’t that just make you want to bitch slap someone? More specifically, one of them? They wonder how we could possibly be able to defend ourselves or stand up for ourselves when our Master’s finally get around to ordering us to rob a bank. Or jump off a cliff. Because it’s a certainty you know. Master WILL, without fail, order us to do something morally or legally wrong. They know.

They also scorn our defense of “but my Master would not order me to do such a thing” because, see, they know our Master’s better than we do. Just ask. They’ll tell you. And any man who gets off on power play THAT DOESN’T END ON MONDAY MORNING (because most of these people admit to being weekend spank warriors, but not dreaded “lifestyler’s”.. say that word like you say “booger” with your nose all wrinkled up and your lip curled… “lifestyler’s”…)any man who takes this farther than THEY do, is morally corrupt, deficient, abusive and will eventually, order us poor ignorant slave girls to commit some reprehensible act.

Don’t bother trying to defend yourself either. You’re either in denial or already so far brain-washed by your wicked Master that you are a lost cause.

I cannot be alone in seeing how fucking delusional these people are can I?

(don’t ask why I continue to read. I don’t know why. The same reason I slow down when I drive by a car wreck. I want to see what new drivel is spilling forth, yet I don’t want to see, you know what I mean? It’s compulsively disgustingly fascinating.)

I understand that there is without question abuse happening in the BDSM world. There is also abuse happening in the vanilla world people. A whole god damn lot of it. To men, women and children. You want to take up a noble cause, go do that. The majority of us “abused sex slaves” don’t want to be rescued. Move on with your bad self, ok? Stop trying to understand us. You won’t. You can’t. I do not understand what makes vanilla people tick either but I sure as hell haven’t decided that you are all sick and twisted because you don’t get off by being locked in a box. I simply shrug and say, man, I don’t get that.. and walk away. Is that so hard?

Now back to Delia Day. Because Delia snapped, or whatever happened to her, since we all agree that nobody has a freakin’ clue what happened in that bedroom, but because a sex slave snapped and murdered her Master, the general consensus seems to be that we’re all on the edge of doing that. Why?

Because we are sex slaves. Because we’ve handed our wills over to someone else. Because Master’s and slave’s are too ignorant to know where to draw the line. Makes perfect sense to them.

It’s all bullshit to me, but what do I know? I’m just an ignorant little sex slave.

I just want to ask this though… these names here have all got something in common. They have several things in common. They are all women. They were all considered by society to be sane and rational (or else someone would have stepped in before it was too late.) They were all mothers. They are all murderers. They all murdered their children.

Susan Smith
Andrea Yates
Marybeth Tinning
Amy Grossberg
Melissa Drexler
Marie Noe

There are so many more than that. So many hundreds of thousands of names that could be added to that list. Is it at all accurate to start viewing all mothers as potential child murderers? That’s a whole lot more evidence than one Delia Day has presented (not to mention that nobody HAS the evidence except Delia and she isn’t talking).

How insane would it be for me to pick a mom out of blogville and start writing lengthy and convincing posts about how I am *convinced* she’s moments away from drowning her child in a bathtub JUST BECAUSE Andrea Yates did it.

Maybe… just maybe… you people are as wrong and as far off base as you can be and YOU are too ignorant to see it. Of course you’ll never read this because these kinds of weblogs offend your delicate senses. Although, you seem to have some mighty strong opinions for someone who never lowers themselves to reading this stuff. Have to wonder where you get your information too, since you can’t stomach these kinds of blogs.

Long rant

I wanted to plug Searabbit because I think she made an excellent post. She copied a comment that I had received (along with many more) and it’s really a good read. Plus, I just enjoy her style..:)

The comment I got went like this:
“This girl has read your journal for a few months. she has watched you stomp your feet and throw temper tantrums to get what you want and has come to the conclusion your Masters needs are.. (the rest here..)

And Master’s response to that comment..
“FOR the record and to whom it may concern. I laugh in your face to this response. My lil cunt, my slave always and FOREMOST has my desires and needs taken care of FIRST. If you truly have read all the posts…of me JUST using her….and not giving her anything in return..OF ME…(the rest here..).

I had forgotten about that comment until I saw it on Searabbit’s post. I’m getting used to the naysayers, to the bitching and insults because we don’t do it their way. I’ve made post after post of how this is what we do, if you don’t like it, don’t read it.. blah blah blah… And once again, what exactly is the purpose of telling me you aren’t going to read it?? Do you realize that I probably had no idea you were reading it in the first place?? I mean honestly… do you think you are THAT important to me? I’m not running a business site here, I’m not looking for customers or money, I’m not looking for jack shit. I’m not out to please ANYONE except Master and He is pleased. Do you think that your rude little comment is going to show me the error of my ways? Honey, your rudely typed words ain’t shit against Master’s whip, you want to teach me something, you are going about it completely the wrong way. Okay.. ~deep breath~… this isn’t what I set out to do. You see how easily you get pulled into bullshit?

I wanted to talk a little bit about how we do what we do. Things coming across here are limited, in words and in meaning… the bane of the internet I guess. Very often I’m focused on one particular incident or feeling and things get left out. Important things. Things that lead to a comment like that from someone who has (no manners) formed an opinion based on a few measly paragraphs. (I just think that is so sad, I really do. What are people thinking?? Do they go to bed at night all smug and secure thinking they have the world all figured out? Is this how they are in the “real” world, walking around pointing fingers and judging people by their clothes or what car they drive or what book they read? Absolutely pathetic.) It’s impossible to transcribe *every single word* passed between us. Impossible to convey every single emotion, to accurately describe every single activity. I’d be writing a novel, a bad one, entitled Kaya’s Weekend in the Closet and How She Freaked Out if I tried. And since I can’t do that, I condense things.. ALOT. I snag on to the important things… the important thoughts.. and talk about them. And they aren’t always pretty or erotic or even coherent.. and they don’t HAVE to be. That’s what this journal is FOR. So I have a place where I can be….. less than perfect… a less than perfect slave, less than perfect mother, less than perfect human… and when I hit enter, and leave this here.. I LEAVE IT HERE. And I go back out “there” and put on my as-close-to-perfect-as-I-can-be face and carry on, just like everyone else in the world. This journal isn’t for me to spout adoring phrases about Master, I do that to His face. It’s not for me to give a simple scene report, I lived it. And it’s not for the purpose of impressing YOU on how well I adjust to slavery.

It’s a journal of MY feelings, my thoughts and desires, wants and needs. Just because I am a slave doesn’t mean I suddenly turned into a robot. That collar around my neck didn’t shut off my feelings. What we are doing, what He is doing to me is hard. And if I’m honest and expressive about how sometimes being the slave just plain sucks donkey dicks.. that in no way negates the fact that I am STILL His slave. I’m just as honest about how wonderfully exciting and fulfilling it is. And what makes that mean something is the fact that this journal isn’t filled with happy-Hallmark bullshit so when I say things are perfect and things are amazing, they ARE. And the bad times are right there to compare that to.

Above everything else, Master and I love each other. Good times, bad times, screaming cussing door slamming times, couch cuddling hugging lingering kisses times… and sitting at His feet times. The very core of “us” is love. It’s not M/s or D/s or any other bdsm acronym. Strip all of that away, and I will still love Him, He will still love me. And that love.. that soul-consuming love makes this particular life all that much harder.. for both of us. He’s dealing with issues on hurting, humiliating,shattering someone that He holds very dear to His heart.. and I’m struggling with accepting that He will do all those things and still love me. He will do them all BECAUSE He loves me. It’s a fine line between love and hate, or so they say, and it’s a struggle to figure out what side everyone is on sometimes.

Master and I were first and foremost attracted to each other because of humor. I’m a smart ass. He’s a smart ass. We can spend hours… days.. laughing. Belly cramping, tear flowing laughing. We do our damnedest to out-smart ass the other one. It’s done in scenes, it’s done in play, it’s done in punishment, training, discipline, sex… (laughing through an orgasm is just as much of a mind-bender as crying through one). It’s who and what we are… comedians in our own home.. with three aspiring smart-asses to help crack us up. He’s made me laugh so hard and so long that I’ve wet my pants.. which only made me laugh that much more. And the kids got a kick out of it too.

There is no possible way, and nor would we WANT to, eliminate that humor from the Master/slave life we lead. When it’s either cry or laugh, I’ll pick laughing every time. We’ve incorporated this smart-assed-approach to bdsm training quite simply because we can. It’s OUR life. You see? Ours. Not yours.

So when I scream out “stop it Motherfucker!” in the middle of a whipping session.. (and can you just HEAR the collective gasp from the ‘perfect slave’ section?), I’m guaranteed a giggle. I’m not guaranteed that He’ll stop. He won’t. He might even increase it and goad me with it.. “what did you call me?” type of stuff… to which I will reply “MASTER Motherfucker”… because god dammit.. thats funny when your ass is on fire.

When He tells me to do something and I start dawdling.. I start making comments.. I come at it from every single angle I can think of…and He shoots me down from every side… because He LIKES it. He likes that I challenge Him, He likes that I make Him think, He likes that I’m not rolling over and playing dead. I am reassured of exactly what He’s thinking and exactly what my role is *every time*.

And if He is not in the mood, and sometimes He isn’t, all it takes is that look.. a word.. and I drop it. I drop it and I obey *immediately*, wordlessly. I get a lot of pleasure out of doing it that way too, as does He… a no-nonsense, thoughtful, intensive pleasure. And both ways work for us.

We dance, Master and I. Not to music, not for a crowd, not with a disco ball.. but for us. He typed me this message tonight “it’s all good baby…you’re lucky I’m a kind (mean assed) lenient(strict fucker) loving(bastard) master(sadist) that loves you dearly (enjoying using and abusing you)”. He is all of those things. All at once and all separately.

He told me not to go out for my butt-plug-scrunchy walk because it was cold, windy and getting dark… but He’s sticking to this clothespins-Master training thing. He’s going to punish me for making a rather minor decision without asking but fully accepts reasonable explanations for those things (when I have them), He’s given me some pretty strict rules regarding how I spend my time on the computer and who with, but when it comes to posting here I’m free on time AND excused from the bitch bench. He loves me. And He’ll train me to be exactly what He wants me to be. Not what you want me to be.

I have to wonder, if your will was obliterated that easily, how much did you have in the first place? How utterly boring.

~cunt

With friends like that….

The other day I got an email from someone who wanted to let me know that they were un-friending me. Initially I shrugged it off. I mean.. I don’t rely on my friend list… or any other list… for validation in my life. I was puzzled, I guess, in why this person felt the need to inform me of it at all. It’s very true that this person and myself are on completely different paths and that there was very little in common between us. I rarely read that blog because it didn’t interest me. But I saw no value in pointing that out either.

The email was polite enough. Or so I thought. But I’m naive like that, you know? I want to see the best in people, I give the benefit of the doubt way past when it should be and as a result I’ve been sucker punched (metaphorically) a lot. Master read the same email.. and was irritated by it. Which just isn’t like Him to react that way to some stranger’s email.. especially over something as benign as taking my blog off a list. He made a few snarky comments about it, enough so that I went back and reread it.. looking for the source of irritation.

If this person truly felt the need to let me know why their blog suddenly wasn’t showing up on my friend’s page, wouldn’t it have been sufficient to say “Hey, we’re going different directions in life, was nice knowing ya, good luck and good bye”? And it did say that, along with other digs… how they can’t understand our choices, can’t continue to read it and have to bite their tongue.. and how Master’s and my goals are unhealthy, even for a slave.

I offended their delicate sensibilities.

So…… don’t read it. I wasn’t particularly fascinated with reading about toddler’s sticky fingers but I didn’t dash off an email about THAT. I didn’t because I’m not a self-righteous bitch.

It’s not that I expect everyone to approve or like or agree with most of what I blog about. I know perfectly well that it’s a sensitive subject, that Master and I are a tad on the extreme edge and that where He is taking me (us) is… oh I don’t know… different. And I don’t even care that someone lets me know that they think I’m insane or implies that Master is abusive. Wrinkle your cyber noses at us.. it’s not going to change the path I’m on one little iota.

What tends to get to me is how it’s the ones who say in the loudest voice “everyone has their own path to follow in bdsm” who are the quickest to reject anyone NOT following them, panting and drooling in anticipation of the next words of wisdom to fall from their keyboard. Your way of Master/slave is not the only way. The goal is to gain something from those who do it differently. I can’t believe that anyone anywhere has it all figured out, has all the answers. And if you do.. write a book or something. But if what you are really saying is that *I* have absolutely nothing to offer you.. that you will never gain anything but disgust from my blog.. then good riddance. And save the polite-but-hiddenly-snarky emails. I don’t need them.

I write what I feel, what I think. It might be hard for you to read, but it was just as hard for me to write it.. to live it.. to process it. I switched from a private journal to an online one not for the feedback.. but because I was helped tremendously by reading other people’s blogs (and still am).. and I wanted to attempt to give a little of that back. It’s had the added benefit of being an immensely helpful communication tool from myself to Master. For whatever reason, opening it up online tapped something in me.. and I started pouring my innermost thoughts out.. for Him. You’ve all gotten to ride along…. and if some of it scares you at times, imagine how I’m feeling.

But am I not conveying through here how deeply satisfied I am also? Do I not come across as happy and content, barring the difficulties dealing with Master’s travel and what not… If not, then I’m failing in that aspect. Because I am. Head over heels in love with a Man who not only knows my deepest darkest desires and loves me anyway… but will stop at nothing to give them to me. He’s intense, He’s brilliant, He’s gorgeous, both inside and out. He’s my rock, my knight. My owner. Someday soon I’ll do a post on how He spoils me rotten. It’s probably long overdue.

If anyone else finds that this blog leaves a bad taste in your mouth.. then by all means, go on to the next one.. take my link off your list.. do whatever it is you need to do to keep your own little world clean and sparkly. That’s how it should be. What’s the point in being a bitch about it though?

I don’t care that someone doesn’t want to read me… really, I’m not that big of a narcissist. I’m appalled though, at the gall some people have to try and belittle me.

Shame on you.