Under His Hand

The journal of a slave

Crossing the Line

I was reading about crossing lines on Patty’s blog this morning. Have you yet been thinking or vaguely feeling something… and then read it on someone else’s site? It’s nice, I think, when that happens. You feel a little less alone in this big old world. (Getting past the ol’ “now I cant write it or I’ll be a copycat!” feeling…hehe) It’s also valuable to see how it gets played out in someone else’s life.

Anyway, so I was thinking about crossing lines and limits. It’s edgy and extreme to say “I am a slave with no limits”. And I do believe that gets said alot.. and misinterpreted alot. Mostly that concept applies to widely known BDSM practices… there are checklists galore if you don’t know what I mean… and I get irritated when someone pipes up with some ‘off the wall but don’t they feel oh so clever’ line like “so it’s ok if your Dom cuts yer tits off? Or throws ya off a building? Or wants to kill ya?” They laugh and nudge the one next to them and then throw in the real kicker “what if he/she wants to molest your child? or wants you to?”

All of those questions are only said to belittle someone. It’s a catch22 and the questioner knows it. The slave in question cannot say “Oh I would let my Dom kill my child since I have no limits” without sounding insane which negates their value in this world anyway… and if they say “well of course I wouldn’t let anyone cut off my balls!” then they have to backtrack to admitting that they do indeed have limits and suddenly they are not so special, not so extreme.. and just the same as every other submissive who hasn’t yet reached the depths of a relationship where one can comfortable say “i have no limits”. The questioner is secure in knowing that they themselves aren’t missing anything.

All of that being said, I recognize that some people DO mutilate, some people DO molest children, etc etc… but I don’t see that as BDSM… and therefore I refuse to accept that it should be discussed in a BDSM setting.

So, thats my long winded take on BDSM limits.

But then I get into lines. Personal lines. Personal boundaries. In the BDSM sense I think those change and fluctuate as you learn and grow. At one time, I liked a little spanking and thought I would maybe like a little bondage. (I’m a long way from those days.) I’ve backed up my line as I’ve delved deeper into myself, and as I’ve found someone worthy of exploring that with. Which brings up another point.

Submitting to someone to that degree is very powerful. The Dom in question perhaps begins to feel God-like… like they need not be held accountable for mistakes… IF they can even admit to making mistakes. They are invincible. Having a no-limits slave at one’s disposal would be, I suspect, a very heady realization. Maybe so much so, that they lose sight of lines and boundaries. And perhaps, when suddenly confronted with a brick wall, they’ve forgotten, in all of their narcissitic and hedonistic attributes, that a boundary was ever there to begin with. And I also think they would have forgotten how to climb.

Imagine if you will… a man (and I only use man here because my own personal experiences are with Dominant men. Insert girl/dog/fish or whatever floats your boat. Also, please don’t assume that I am talking about my Master.. sometimes I do just ramble pointlessly.. and I say we or I because its my damn journal. Thank You.) who has gotten spoiled beyond belief with a no-limits slave. He can beat her.. use her.. fuck her.. starve her.. humiliate her.. He’s waited on, served, massages.. hell He even gets His ass wiped if He wants.. she bathes Him, dresses Him, ties His shoes… and she shows no sign of tiring from this… she LIKES it.. she thrives on it. She kisses his feet with passion.. she offers her body with no inhibitions to be used and hurt…24 hours a day, 7 days a week… complete and total submission.. and then… WHAM!

The brick wall could be anything… pick something… I believe everyone has something that they won’t budge on. Not a sexual practice, but something outside of that. Something that threatens your sense of self, you moral make-up.. something that is more important to you than anything else in the world, including BDSM and the M/s concept.

The slave would struggle mightily I think.. not to keep her Master out, but to work around the brick wall. Slaves have a never-ending desire to please, placate, keep peace..make Master happy. That’s what drives them, motivates them.. it’s ingrained. Of course they would want to make this brick wall a non-issue! But Master has become spoiled and pouty. Petulant and stubborn. How dare HIS slave deny Him anything! The nerve of the girl! Without thought really, He battles her… for possession of the gate key. Attacking… hurting… seeing only the end.. wanting only the thrill of victory.. and completely forgetting that walls, especially brick ones, need to be climbed and not beaten down.

The slave would be frightened.. panicky.. and work tirelessly at buidling a higher wall, a thicker wall… more defenses, more hiding places… still trying to entice the Master to different scenery…with one foot poised to run should He come barrelling through that wall.

Walls.. and lines.. and boundaries aren’t made to frustrate or challenge a Master. They aren’t there for His battering ram practice. Brick isn’t negotiable. If He wants to see what’s on the other side, don’t chip away at it for she’ll patch the holes thicker and faster than He could see anything anyway.

Back up.. get comfortable with the view.. *ask* what’s on the other side. Ask if You can peek. Build a ladder together and ask her to hold the legs should it get wobbly. And if it gets wobbly, back down a few steps.. and let the slave reset the footing.

Thats important, don’t you think?

And on a side note:
I’ve put the website on hold for now. All this buzz about FBI raids and porn sites getting closed down.. better safe than sorry right? I mean, I appreciate all you people for visiting and it gave me a thrill to watch the counter jump and I’ll even admit to beginning to fall in love with voyeurism but I ain’t having the FBI knocking on my door for you folk. Sorry. ;P

Magic Carpet Ride

Three more days. Wow. The nerves are kicking in hard now. I’ve heard before that you shouldn’t be afraid of your Dom. That fear isn’t a healthy part of a healthy bdsm relationship. (I AM getting tired of the labels, the explaining, the opinions.) But fear factors in here pretty well. I am afraid of the pain, just as much as I embrace it. It makes my pussy wet, my nipples hard, makes me moan and beg to cum but it still hurts. And I sometimes fear the uncertainty. Master is not easy to read, I can’t guess what He’ll do. He routinely flips from Horrid Sadist to gentle lover within moments of each other. He loves to push me hard, and knowing that I can’t do anything about it, that I take it until HE decides it’s over is frightening!

But’s also exciting and alluring. The feeling you get in your stomach when you are riding up the first hill of the fastest roller coaster. Hanging on the edge.. ready to ride. I get heady on the power that He has over me, just watching Him, His tone of voice. He oozes self-confidence. He plays me like an instrument. And the plans He has for me!… woo..have to remind myself to breathe.

Pic of the Day

Today’s task was easyeasyeasy. And thank You for that Master, the last few were not and I was ready for a simple one. Clamps, some weights and two pussy lips… *smiles*.. a good task. It made me horny though. And Master’s put me on an orgasm restriction of course. My last one was on the 11th. (You all wanted to know this right??) That is entirely too long to go without an orgasm. I’m writin’ a complaint letter. I used to fight tooth and nail over orgasm restrictions. It just seemed *wrong* somehow. Sex is such a vital part of bdsm and then you take away the best part of it??? Made no sense to me. But, I have to admit that this has been an experience. And you know.. I look at things…and *everything* looks fuckable. I got jealous watching the cat lick herself, thats how bad I am. I’m gonna leave a gooey trail from the car to the airport..lol.

Things seem to be progressing so quickly all of a sudden. He’s just hit hyper-speed or something. Things will be tempered some, we still have kids to raise, but the plans are laid. The training is stepped up (That’s a fucking understatement!). He’s confident, and that blows my mind. I don’t know if I somehow indicated that I was beyond resistance now or if He decided I was, but either way, He seems to have no doubt that it *will* be the way He wants it. Period. I’m alternately terrified and so turned on I can’t sit still.

“YOU..with no clothes on..sitting at my feet..or used as furniture.”
“I don’t foresee you having a job ”
“i want to brand you..and tattoo you”
“i didn’t ask if you could..i said do it and you will.”
“there is no talking or negotiating”
“i will ask you a question and you will answer…ONLY when I ask you a question. or only when you are spoken too”
“cuz you aren’t an I or a ME anymore..you are an it or a thing.. an object”

That last one… the idea of referring to myself as “it”.. to eventually believing that. Being that. Is it a mindfuck still? Or more than that? Is it really even possible to lose yourself that way?

I’ve wanted this for a long time. Dreamt about it. Now I find myself wanting to dig my heels in and back the fuck up. Maybe if we could set out some ground rules… like… “yes Sir, I’ll live in a cage in the basement IF you make sure I have a comp, the TV, mt. dew and ice cream. Oh, and a recliner.” and “hurt me til I cry but when it hurts too much STOP.” and “when I get bored of corners and cages and of being your footstool, can I quit and go play freecell?”. I’d be alright if He would only agree to those!

Unfortunately for me, I don’t even know if I’m going to be allowed to use a toilet, let alone get a recliner.

Mind blowing stuff.

My song chorus for the day:
“Well, you don’t know what we can find
Why don’t you come with me little girl
On a magic carpet ride
You don’t know what we can see
Why don’t you tell your dreams to me
Fantasy will set you free
Close your eyes girl
Look inside girl
Let the sound take you away”

G’night!
kaya

Warning: Long Post

Tonight’s task isn’t physical.. it’s mental. It’s invasive. It’s what goes on in the darkest side of me. Master’s fingers are in there.. wiggling and poking.. and taking firm hold. Grabbing the puppet strings.

One large benefit to this separation is the fact that Master and I have spent several hours each night talking on MSN. I am a chat addict because I am completely comfortable behind a keyboard. Things that I would never-in-a-million-years say outloud will fly from my fingertips without hesitation. I think Master is getting a very deep look at my insides and His response to that is… shocking.

He’s not frightened. He doesn’t think I’m a freak. He’s excited. He’s turned on. And He’s freakier than I am!

At every turn… every confession, every spilled secret fantasy, every pussy clench.. He’s there.. ahead of me. Cock in hand, smile on His face.. holding His hand out to me.. “coming, slut?”

And I am. Yes Sir. Running to keep up.

All this week we’ve been working up to tonight. There have been snatches of conversation.. thinly veiled promises of things to come.. things to get my mind racing, racing to beat the wetness spreading down my thighs. He’s poked and prodded at me.. pushed me.. both with the daily tasks and pictures being posted.. to private emails and pictures being sent. Re-takes when He isn’t satisfied (for the Man takes nothing less than my best and knows very well what my best is). I’ve walked a very thin line even with Him so far away… gotten away with nothing… and what were those worries about feeling un-Dommed while He was gone about??? Couldn’t happen. He knows my every move still.. and has only switched His methods to accommodate the distance.

Tuesday morning I received an email…with talk and promise from Him to no longer accept my reluctance on a certain task. (The task having everything to do with anything anal and my strong aversion to… to.. well.. to poo..*blush*). It was only mention of a plug. A plug with a tail in fact. Now, I’ve always known that Master could take my ass anytime He wanted to. He has simply been kind enough, knowing that I’m skittish about it, to not press it too much. He has, on rare occasions, pressed inside of me *just* enough to make me panic.. and ask me.. “who’s is this?”.. to which I cry and beg and say “Your’s Sir!!” … then He pulls back and we carry on about our business. And while He may have thought it did me in.. I was smug and secure in knowing, without doubt, that it wouldn’t be pressed more than that.

Smugness fell out of my world with that email. For Master very rarely says what He doesn’t mean. I read that paragraph.. three small lines of type..and full-blown panic set in. I immediately fired an email back… begging.. and crying (it always worked before!) to NOT do this. I am not ready, I do not want to. I even offered to find someone else to do that for him. Hit send.

Stewing.. thinking.. knowing already that the begging isn’t gonna work. So another email. The bargain email. Something along the lines of “if You are going to MAKE me do that, I will only do it *this* way”. Send.

More time, more thinking, more panicking. Another email to Him. The refusal. “I won’t do it. No. No Sir. The end.” Hit send.

And later.. sitting miserably in front of the computer… reading His original email for the one thousandth time. The final email from me to Him, already knowing the answer but asking anyway.. “do I still have a choice in this?” Send.

And the answer.. of course I have no choice. And that’s why I was panicking. That was my last hold. My last control. My ass. Sounds pathetic maybe.. to some of you. It meant the world to me. When you have nothing, or very little, little things take on huge and terrible meanings. Master just ripped that away from me.

I had a day to come to terms with it.. to examine it.. to realize that I’m not mourning the loss of that control. I’m relieved. Its not about the anus… it’s all about having reached up and plucked from my hands the last of my will.

I spent the majority of yesterday on the 9 hour round trip drive thinking about this. And accepting it. I’m no more thrilled with the ideas of anal-accidents than I was before, I’m no less humiliated at the thought of going about my daily chores with Master watching as a hairy tale swings from my backside.. but I am excited with the prospect of Master having my total surrender.

I even asked Him today… from behind the safety of the monitor… if He could ever give me an enema, watch as I suffer holding it, and then stand at the toilet as I empty. Purely as a humiliating mind-fuck. Because for me, the bathroom, MY elimination, is the crux of all things personal. I got a very resounding (and frightening) FUCK YES. He can.. and He will… and on that day my surrender will be complete.

But something happened inside of me.. after that email. The dam broke, the flood waters spilled forth, what I was and used to be got buried in the ensuing torrent of filth and nastiness that bubbled to the surface… and I pleaded with Master then..

“kaya says:
I want to be… your… fucking… thing.
Master says:
you ARE..
kaya says:
I want to be like what you would imagine a kidnapped woman locked in some maniacs basement would be.
kaya says:
beat me
kaya says:
tie me up.
kaya says:
hurt me.
kaya says:
fuck all that happy hearts and flowers bdsm… fuck my needs and wants… fuck my emotional well being.. fuck romance. I want to be taken. And used. And used hard.
Master says:
you want to be beat and slapped hard and all..and hurt…and pain
kaya says:
all of it.
kaya says:
You do whatever you want.
Master says:
no holds barred at all.
kaya says:
nope.
kaya says:
you think you can beat me?
Master says:
depends on what you mean by beat..LIKE swell your eyes shut and all ….Umm no..
Master says:
but smack ya around…..push and shove ya…….slam you up against a wall and shove and slam my hand up your cunt..OH yes.”

And what followed then was clearly Master’s own dam breaking.. as with mind-boggling typing speed He proceeded to tell me one of His own deep and very dark fantasies…
a scene that would break my body… but more importantly break my mind… shatter my soul… and leave me open to be possessed… by Him, for Him.

Talk of boards and nails.. and fists.. and ripping.. slamming pumping riding .. violet wands and flayed skin. Smacking, begging and pleading…gagging and choking… I said nothing as He typed.. sitting in clit-diddling awe as I read. My mind trying desperately to wrap itself around what I was reading, daring to hope that this could be real… that I had, no doubt about it, met my match.
“Master says:
then….after we are all done..after multiple uses…..take a spoon and dig out the cum and feed it to you..from your ass or pussy.”

Oh indeed… *twitch*… we are going places.. as a friend pointed out so gleefully .. “He has plans for you girlie”…

I had the strongest orgasm of my entire life reading the things that He was posting to me.. because this isn’t lit-erotica… this wasn’t an attempt to flip my switch or make me horny… Because it’s real.. because it’s scary as all fucking hell.. and because I WILL live it.

Because I want it. I’ve wanted it since I was a little girl and I used to straddle the pointed roof of the dog house, rocking back and forth, until my tiny pussy bled and bruised, rocking and crying… for someone to care enough to make me stop… and to love enough to make me keep going.

I’ve not met my match… I’ve met my Superior.
kaya

Cupholder

I think Master is on a mission to see how useful my pussy is.

Pic of the Day

I was first instructed to do my corner time… with my nose to the wall… holding a quarter… and my pocket rocket. I tried really really hard to get to that erotic place that I was in the other day but it was eluding me. You see, I had made Master angry… and this time, corner time was punishment for me.

I am not able to find punishment erotic. I know alot of people use that as a catalyst to play, it doesn’t work that way for me. Scenes and Master’s disappointment are on opposite ends of the spectrum in my head. And even though Master hadn’t told me to go to corner for punishment, it was still fresh and raw inside and I couldn’t find the pleasure. I *did* however use the time well. I kept the vibe on (per instructions) and while it hummed quietly I thought about things… my mistakes… how and if I can fix them. I did finally get to a place where the vibe, the serenity of the corner, the stillness of the darkened room, soothed my ruffled feathers enough to move on to the next part of my task.

I fear that this task was TOO successful. I have visions of being Master’s next cupholder. And what strange little tingles that thought brings! I do believe that the uses for pussy are endless… the things that will fit in there are extraordinary… and the abuse it can take is amazing. And spring right back into good-as-new shape! I am enjoying this, truly. It not only feels good to fuck myself raw with strange objects but the ideas it gives for fun in the future.. when Master comes home.. and ways to be slavely by only flipping my legs over my head. Absolutely ingenious Master. Catering to me being a wanton slut AND lazy-by-nature.. *grins*

I’m also walking around wide-eyed, refreshed, with new vigor and awareness. Strolling through the store, around the house, fingering the textures, wrapping my hand around to gauge girth, eyeballing the length of… everything! Buzzing in the back of my brain… “will it fit?”, “will it hurt?”, “can I make it hurt?”, “would Master like it?”.

This is who I am to my very core… this is what makes my eyes sparkle and my heart flutter, goosebumps and shivers. More.. Deeper.. Darker.

There will be a day, and a day sometime in the not too far off future, when I will cease to exist to the majority of the world. When my only thought, for days and weeks uninterrupted will be of Him. Total devotion. I’ve been through all the worries about Him becoming bored with me, fed up with the doormat in the corner, waiting and salivating to be used and abused. We’ve talked about it. I’ve cried over it. And the thing is… I don’t think He will get bored. He doesn’t think He will get bored. I *know* I won’t get bored. The possibilities of where this can go… how far, how deep… twists and turns, backtracks and do-overs… I can’t imagine getting bored!

He made the comment yesterday… that He’ll still be beating me with His walking stick if need be. I’m thinking that I *might* be trained by the time I’m 80… but the message there is that this is a lifetime commitment. How comforting is that?
kaya

Weekend Recap

We went camping this weekend (“we” being, Master, myself and kidlettes..and dog). It was my first camping trip and it was really pretty fun. I’m not much of an outdoor-sy person normally but it was ok. The only bad spot was the horrible thunderstorm that rolled in Sunday night, which we were ill-prepared for. Everything had been left open and out when we went to bed, the tent leaked badly. What a mess to wake up to, literally floating in our sleeping bags..lol. But, it was an adventure and pretty funny really. I can’t wait to go again.

The clean-up though?… Bah. That sucks. I have a thousand loads of laundry awaiting me, coolers and etc etc to wash out and put away. I am so in the market for a slave of my own. Honestly…;)

Master and I have had some talks about returning to our previous level of bdsm. It’s not as simple as just saying it… and having it happen. Even though the “break” was brief, that seems to be all it took to undo a year of work. I’m not in the slave mindset at all. With the kids here.. the play level, the rituals, all of that is pretty much impossible. The only thing that we could have relied on is the unspoken truth of Him being Master, me being slave…relying on my own commitment to doing chores and behaving, simply acting as a slave should while knowing any reward or consequence will NOT be coming anytime soon. However… I’m perhaps not as slavely as I proclaimed to be since I ain’t doing that..lol.

My faith is shaken, I think. In myself, mostly in life in general. I take alot of the blame… I’m usually the first one to beg off a play session with any number of excuses. But I just despise the quick ones, which is all we have time for lately. The quick ones, with no (or little) bondage, no warm up, no fun. It’s really a very pouty and selfish, childish and bitchy response to the current situation. A bit of “if I can’t have it MY way, I don’t want it at all”.

But when I have nothing at all…. I hate that too. And beg and whine and plead for even the mundane rituals of chores and the occasional quick play session.

No wonder Master needs a vacation…lol

Have I mentioned lately that I am high-maintenance?

There’s a part of me that desires for Master to just step up and say “this is how it’s gonna be, slut”… and take the stress and worry and decision away from me. I miss those kinds of interactions with Master. But.. another part of me knows that Master is trying very very hard to get some footing on the middle ground. Trying not to push so hard that I cannot be what I need to be, i.e. wife and mother and employee.

Well… so the soap opera of my life continues… but right now, a suitcase of wet clothes calls me.

kaya