Guilt

This journal is a place where I am allowed to write about things that bother me, confuse me, upset me…. etc. It’s my outlet, my release. It gives me a chance to lay down the things that whiz around my head, look at them and try to make sense out it. Although at times it may sound like a slam against Master… or I may come across as an ungrateful spoiled brat, a bitch, insert your own adjective. I don’t know what I would do without this journal actually. I’m isolated anyway, and this lifestyle isolates me further yet, and Master isn’t the best audience for my whines and bitchy rants. He’s more than willing to listen to me about most anything except for my various complaints about *this*.

He’s taking this exactly where He’s taking it. He’s making me exactly what He wants me to be. I’ll end up taking whatever amount of pain He wants me to take. So it’s this place here that I can cry and whine and be afraid and bitch and point fingers…. here and only here. I can stomp my feet and carry on about how unfair it is, how unjust it is, how He’s not running the show the way *I* would if I was in charge. And for the most part He sits back and lets me get it out of my system.

Then He calmly tells me again.. that it will be done exactly how He wants it done. It really does not matter what my opinion is. This is the place for my opinion. Right here.

The whole reward thing that I mentioned in the last post absolutely threw me for a loop. Seems such a tiny thing doesn’t it? Why in heaven’s name am I in a tizzy over being rewarded? Because I don’t feel like a Good Girl. I really really don’t. And I immediately translated it into being rewarded for being bad… which then flipped into Master really doesn’t care if I’m good or bad…. which flipped into Master isn’t trying to train me at all…. Master doesn’t want a cunt in a cage anymore…… just how bad do I have to be to make Him care…. oh let’s try THIS…..

And within a few moments, I had turned the entire conversation into pretend misunderstandings and false indignation and curt answers…. just for more “proof” of how Master isn’t strict enough to handle me. I’m still manipulating Him.

Except… I’m not. I just think I am. Or in some instances I AM… but can it be called manipulation if He doesn’t have a clue it’s going on? If He doesn’t know how many rules I’ve broken because He can’t see me and I’m not telling Him about them, so He offers me a reward that I KNOW I don’t deserve and my guilt only succeeds in picking a fight with Him in an attempt to get Him to remove the offered reward and He refuses to remove the reward therefore forcing me to either accept it and feel that much more guilty or admit to all of my failures then who the hell is manipulating WHO.

I am so flawed. And He says I’m 99.99% “good”. The burden of guilt is heavy. Far too heavy for me tonight.

Master doesn’t very often get irritated with my journal posts. Not even with the ones that really seem to be “slamming” Him. For the aforementioned reasons of this being the one place that I’m allowed to say those things. The last post though, He was not so pleased with. Because it wasn’t just my opinion… or some confusion I needed to work out… it was blatantly twisting words, putting a spin on things, trying to force His hand. Just trying to make Him look bad so I could feel justified and lessen some of the guilt.

He didn’t even fall for that. I asked Him if I could remove the post and He denied it. Said leave it. So it’s been staring me in the face for hours now.

Ugh.

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The Bigger Picture

So.. things came to a head last night as they tend to do. He had put me in the closet again.. and took me out to beat me some more… and I cracked. Had I known that’s what He was waiting for, I might have tried to hurry it along.

I always crack.. or “wig out” as Master called it… after a big heavy push. And yesterday’s closeting adventure was a big heavy push. Being objectified is a mindfuck, through and through. I fight it.. and I try really really hard to hold onto myself. It’s not that I’m not submitting really because I AM.. but I’m keeping a tight hold on my psyche. And it’s not complete until I let that go.

That’s really hard to do.

The total breakdown of my will.. and my thoughts… complete surrender. From talking to other people, I get the idea that this is where most people feel they’ve gone too far. Where it was too hard of a push and they back up and regroup. What’s it mean when this is exactly Master’s goal? That I’ll remain in that place all the time someday is a very frightening thought.

I will say though, that once I get there it’s a fairly pleasant feeling. Once I’ve moved past the hysteria and the shakes and the incoherent babbling… and settled into *being* His object, it’s quite floaty and nice.

I went through a rather long episode (It felt long but it was probably only a few minutes. Time slowssss way down in my head sometimes) of asking questions that I know the answer to, but it seemed of utmost importance that I hear it. Out loud and decisively. From Him. I held up my tits and asked “Do You own these?” and of course He said yes. And so it proceeded with other things.. my hair, my ass, me, etc. And things of His… “is that my cock”.. no, it’s His. While today, thinking back on it, it all seems very childish and silly, I need to hear it. Every answer felt like a tiny door closing somewhere.. until all that was left was His. I can’t explain it anymore than that.

Once, He told me to lay up next to Him and I started crying again, said I didn’t want to lay there and I turned over to where I wanted to be, kept asking ‘ok?’ ‘i want to lay here ok?’.. He reached around me and tugged me to His side. He wasn’t mean about it, He was firm and also very loving. But it made me stop crying.

It’s the oddest thing.. I fight it so hard. I don’t want to break or crack or wig out. I squeeze that bit of myself as hard as I can and make Him pry it out of me… I can’t for the life of me see Him wanting me that way, that open and exposed, that needy and clingy… but once I’m there, the evidence of His loving me there is so much more present than when I’m not there.

Master is still home and I don’t know what today holds. Maybe nothing, maybe everything. I’m still there though, still open.. I want to keep it, as long as I can. It was hell getting here.

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