what i am.
I really have not been doing my slave tasks or my email reports or my daily picture.
I need to remember what all of this comes down to. I’m property.
I’m still property and a slave even if I’m crampy, stressed from school, stressed from work or tired. I’m wearing a slave collar.
I signed a contract at Sir’s feet because I need this. It was my choice and my choice alone. I signed it again even after Sir broke my heart in June because I forgave Him and I trust Him enough not to break it again. I did not sign it without a lot of soul searching, deep conversation and makeup sex.
I crave this feeling of being property. I need this. I feel better with a collar around my throat. The collar Sir yanks on when He’s fucking my throat. The collar He holds onto when He slaps me. Being a slave, having no choice, gives me somewhere to just be, as Sir puts it. And that’s perfect.
If I’m really honest with myself, my collar also makes me feel safer. Safe enough to handle being slapped, punched, caned until I’m crying, cry in front of someone else in general… I had a really intense orgasm on Sunday and almost started crying from the release. I feel beautifully present and whole during a scene.
I’ve never felt so close to someone else. I’ve never been so in tune and so connected with another human being. Sir treats me very well, and even when He is hurting me… still great at it. Ha.
We had a conversation last week about where our relationship is going to go, which always scares the shit out of me. It was good to have a frank, honest conversation. I don’t want to fuck up the time we have together now, by worrying about what will happen later. Everything will work out in the end. If it’s meant to be… let’s just say everything will be okay.
I want to enjoy everything right now. Present. Present.
I’m a slave.
I’m property.
I chose this.
I will choose this again.
