The truth is, both Mark and I are kind of scattered and all over the place. Mark has had a lot of work, and I’ve been pummeled with work at school and  at Obnoxious Public Relations Firm. I register for classes next Wednesday. Our contract ends next Monday.

We’re having some contemplation time before we sign another contract. I’m trying to get my head on straight. Sometimes, college feels like one crisis after another. Mark and I love and support each other, but I feel like in this next contract, there are some things I would like to reconsider and some places where I want to grow.

I’d like more protocol, for one. I loved the protocol training weekend that we had over the summer. I would like to do more protocol. It wouldn’t have to be as formal. I know that for both of us, it can be hard to switch between mindsets. That is ultimately what stops us short of having protocol; the mind blocks. I have desires for those periods of protocol and restriction, but we don’t do them very often.

Particularly, I’m fascinated when I’m on speaking restriction. The silence that surrounds us is nice to experience.

If I’m being REALLY honest with myself, I LIKE Him knowing where I am all the time. Even though this strict protocol that I’m living under right now is only supposed to be temporary. . .maybe elements of it can sneak into the next contract.

I want to live joyfully in my submission. That probably sounds so cheesy, but I want to exist happily in it, instead of worrying about my submission or worrying about whether I’m submissive enough or not. I tend to worry so much about my submission, even when I’m under strict protocol. I want to worry less.

I can’t really think of anything else at the moment. I’m post very quickly because a) I have to be at work soon and b) this satisfies my requirement for the day. Yay! However, it has also given me something to think about, so that’s good.

BUT, now I can ask permission to play World of Warcraft: Wrath of the Lich King later! YES!

I am the WoW player out of the two of us, I tried to get Him into it, but He just was not having it. Heh.

Posted: November 14th, 2008 under BDSM, emotional.
Comments: none

Sir makes jokes about being afraid He’s ruined me, exposing me to all of this, you know. BDSM. Heh. While I don’t think He’s ruined me, I do think I’ve reached this point in my life where I can say, I can’t go back to a vanilla relationship. I like this too much.

“This” does not signify only the activities, the sex, the munches, TESfest, meetings or the clubs. It also means the intimacy, honesty, emotional and sexual fulfillment and sense of completion it gives me. I feel, at the point I am right now, if I were to give all of this up and go into a vanilla relationship, I would be devastated. If I had to go into some sweet, boring, blah relationship, I would be so FUCKING BORED. I would feel so stifled. I feel like being a BDSM relationship allows both people to be more honest, with themselves and with their partners.

I feel like I would have to hide so much of myself, those things that I bare so openly right now. The things that Sir wants to hear, urges me to tell him; my needs, my desires, the thoughts that scare me and all of the things I’m curious about. I’m tired of hiding. I spent my high school years behind masks.

I mean, I feel safe enough to be able to say, “Yes, I liked when you were choking me while you were fucking me” or “I like it when you slap my face” or “I think about crawling on the floor in front of you.” I really don’t think I would feel anywhere near open enough with a vanilla partner to say those things.

Spending my formative sexual development years with a boy who was bloody awful in bed made me realize something. Every relationship I have after that, will need to have amazing sexual chemistry.

It’s awful to spend four months lying beneath some boy you don’t give a shit about; you might as well be a knothole in a tree. I felt no sexual attraction to my exboyfriend, C, after a while. I felt no need to initiate sex, I felt distant and I began to hate myself after having sex with him. I don’t orgasm from oral sex, because my previous long term partner didn’t care enough to make me orgasm and made me feel guilty about wanting oral sex.

Read that last sentence over.

No woman should ever feel GUILTY for wanting consensual sex. I almost can’t believe that I let that happen to me for so long.

And now I can’t orgasm from oral sex, and it makes me cry with frustration. I obsess. I feel guilty with Sir’s mouth between my legs. I feel like He’s annoyed with having to do it. I feel like I just can’t orgasm from it, so I try to close my legs and push him away. I always had to beg C to go down on me, so I didn’t believe it when Sir said that He LIKES to go down on women.

This is why I cannot be in a relationship right now where I would have to hide my sexuality. I’m already making up for lost time. I refuse to be in a relationship where my sexual needs are not being met. I can’t do that again. I can’t let it happen.

I love how BDSM is helping me grow as a person.

Posted: November 13th, 2008 under BDSM, emotional.
Comments: 1

I haven’t blogged here for a variety of reasons.

a) Midterms. Enough said.

b) My internship at Obnoxious Public Relations Firm (disguised for obvious reasons) has suddenly dumped a lot of work on me at once. I work there three days a week.

c) The remote protocol I was under, fell apart.

Things with Sir and I went back and forth, throughout October. It was a very, very difficult month.

He’s been away on business more than He’s been here, which made it difficult to maintain protocol and feel connected.

So I pretty much dropped my protocol of emailing Him my food intake and tasklist for the day and doing slave tasks, for the latter half of October. They were causing me major anxiety and freaking me out, more than they were maintaining my ‘property’ mindspace.

These few weeks have not been the easiest. We struggle to find time to see each other, and we struggle with maintaining a connection. My stress levels have been running high, and so has Sir’s. The problem is, we both react to stress in different ways. I feel less submissive and pull away, and Sir feels MORE submissive.

We’ve had hard scenes dispersed throughout the month. We have hard scenes and then Sir leaves on business, for His job.

. . .I don’t know. I needed something here to break this silence that’s come over the blog.

On Sunday, we decided to change things.

He constructed a new remote protocol for me to follow, temporarily.

I swear I will blog more here in the next few days. I have Halloween, some more scenes and Folsom to talk about. And of course, my new protocol.

This feels weird. So, hi.

Posted: November 4th, 2008 under emotional.
Comments: none

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.

Posted: October 7th, 2008 under BDSM, emotional.
Comments: none

Today I discovered new stretch marks.

Remember that weird fearlessness I had being naked in public for my first rope suspension? Um, yeah, I think that’s gone for now. I don’t want to be naked at Folsom Fringe.

I haven’t been a very good pet. I’ve been having a terrible time doing my tasklists, eating everything I shouldn’t be, not blogging or exercising. The truth is, I’m exhausted, worn out, stressed, and I keep pushing myself forward. Rather than be angry that I have to do my slave tasks, I just don’t do them. I adopt this sort of apathy towards myself and my slave tasks.

No apathy towards Sir, though. Sir’s emails and BlackBerry messages keep me going throughout the day. I slept in the apartment twice this week, but we were both so exhausted and out of it and just weird. I didn’t sleep very well, and I admitted it to Sir over the phone last night.

I just become apathetic towards my tasks and don’t send pictures or my food emails or my tasklists. My apathy towards myself is reflected in not showering, not eating right, not exercising, not taking time for myself to blog, think, write, relax.

I intern. I intern for a media/public relations firm. I intern three days a week. I’m a full time student, four classes, four days a week. I have homework. I’m a College Democrat. I’m aiming for a high GPA in case I want to go to graduate school.

Despite my apathy, I’m ashamed of myself. Ashamed of the weight I’m obviously gaining if I have stretch marks, ashamed that I was a good little pet during the summer and that now, it’s going to shit. I don’t know how to get myself out of this. If I were to be punished for everything I haven’t done over the last two weeks, I don’t know if I would be grateful or if I’d cry and hate myself more. I’ve been worrying over my punishment and how I’m going to react.

I just don’t feel attractive, I don’t feel like a good submissive pet, I don’t want to undress in front of anyone at Folsom Fringe, and I don’t even feel uncomfortable undressing in front of Sir right now. I want to cover myself up with sweatpants and my East Coast University sweatshirt.

I’m also a little emotional and spooked because someone in one of my Communications classes called me out on my collar.

I’m depressed and moody. I feel grotesque. I feel like a bad submissive. I feel like a bad submissive because I know I should be punished for all I haven’t done, deep down, and I know that I also really don’t want it, and I feel like I’ll hate myself either way. I don’t know what to do. I also feel like I’m letting my Sir down by being this awful.

I don’t know, I don’t know. I thought I lost my laptop power cord last night and I almost had a complete meltdown.

Ugh. I should just drink myself into a stupor and pass out for the night so I can stop worrying and obsessing like this.

Posted: September 19th, 2008 under emotional.
Comments: none

i kissed a girl and i liked it

the taste of her cherry chapstick

i kissed a girl just to try it

i hope my boyfriend don’t mind it

it felt so wrong, it felt so right

don’t mean i’m in love tonight

i don’t even know your name, it doesn’t matter

you’re just my experimental game

just human nature

[katy perry, "i kissed a girl"]

I have pretty juvenile taste in music. I like any sort of alternative/emo/rock sounding stuff, and usually most Top 40 hits. Most of the music I listen to isn’t to Sir’s liking, (”Have you HEARD some of the stuff you listen to? GOD!” He says with a smirk.) so most of the time I just reserve it for when I’m in my car or on my iPod.

This song is just insanely catchy. It’s upbeat and provocative and pretty fun to turn up loud when you’re driving around. At least for me, it is.

I also think it captures the, well, fun of kissing a girl when it doesn’t really mean anything. I wrote earlier in the blog about the fact that I pretty much had my first kiss with a girl ‘auctioned’ off at a New Year’s Eve slave auction in a BDSM club. Even though I hesitated like hell when the time came to actually fill the slip out, I was actually excited.

I secretly liked being the object of so much spectacle, too. I liked the crowd at the door that appeared when the submissive woman was going to kiss me. I liked how intently both Sirs were watching us when we kissed. It was hot.

Read more »

Posted: September 9th, 2008 under BDSM, college girl, emotional.
Comments: none

It’s a bit of a tense time for your lovable coed. I’m moved back into the ECU dormitory. I have to say, that I’m honestly very uncomfortable in my suite right now. I have three other roommates. One is good old A, the silly, happy, perky, fabulous girl from last semester. Two of the other ones are very traditional Asians, with one being intensely religious. They are very focused and driven, but the vibe I have right now is that they’re a little boring.

I feel a little threatened to be wearing my collar around the suite. I’m worried that there might be some confrontation that I don’t want. Last semester, my roommates, as aloof as they were, were at least open and social and fun. My new roommates… not so much.

Read more »

Posted: August 24th, 2008 under college girl, emotional.
Comments: none

So, I’ve pretty much just been brainwashed the last few days. I’m working for my school’s freshman week. I’ve been brainwashed to be perky, helpful, appropriate, happy, politically correct, etc.

But now that I’m done with it, all I want is to be bound up, fucked up, orgasm tortured, my nipples clamped until I feel like I’m going to freak out from the pain and to be flogged repeatedly. It’s not a bad craving.

Maybe it’s some adverse reaction to all that “be happy!” stuff I’ve been indoctrinated with.

Ha.

Of course, Sir is going away for a lovely vacation with His children tomorrow. Damn.

(P.S: I officially wore my collar at school for the first time since May, today. It’s been a good day.)

Posted: August 22nd, 2008 under college girl, emotional.
Comments: 2

I’m having orgasm troubles lately.

It’s taking me longer and longer to orgasm. I get sore and sensitive before I orgasm.

“It’s a self-fulfilling prophecy, pet.” He says, reassuring me that I’m normal.

Here’s what happens;

Sir tries to make me orgasm.

I ooh and aah and groan and come very close to orgasming.

I feel self conscious about not orgasming.

I ask myself what not orgasming by now means; am I a bad pet? Is something wrong with me? Why aren’t I orgasming?

I don’t orgasm.

I mean, fuck. I had a Magic Wand pressed against me and I just felt squirmy and sensitive, not like I was going to orgasm.

I started getting frustrated and bitchy and scrowl-y. A little distressed.

I don’t know why I just can’t… let go.

Sir put clover clamps on me earlier tonight as He chained my hands above my head.

Breathe, don’t let the pain take control. Breathe.

I couldn’t. The pain just kept coming.

It felt amazing when He started to fuck my sopping wet pussy. When He wasn’t making my body move/making the clamps hurt like a motherfucker, it felt incredible. To have this pain and this full, wonderful feeling in my pussy. The pain suddenly complimented the pleasure, to an extent. Once He started fucking me hard enough to make my breasts shake, the pain increased.

I was so, so, so close to coming. The pain kept me from me going over the edge.

But part of me craved that pain and wanted it to keep going.

The troubling part was, the rest of the night, was like one long attempt to make me orgasm.

I’m overthinking it. I only started to orgasm when He said I couldn’t.

We did a hard breathplay scene, to the point where my hands came up and literally started to pry His hand off my mouth for air. I started to yell behind His hand, which I never, ever do.

We fought over Him forcing me to say “I’m a cockwhore”. Which I don’t like saying.

I was squirming and trying to breathe. He yelled, “You better say it now!” and took His hands off my nose and mouth.

“Fuck you”, flew out of my mouth.

“You bitch!” He said, and slapped me repeatedly.

So close to orgasming.

But that mental block just kept coming up, thoughts repeating in my head.

That I’m a bad submissive. That something is wrong with me.

I’m a bad submissive, I must be broken, I’m a bad submissive, I should have orgasmed by now…

They’ve just appeared out of nowhere.

And I don’t come.

I don’t know how to make them go away.

I know I’m a good submissive. Sir is pleased with me, punishes me when I’m not a good girl, and that’s the end of it. I make Him happy, I make Him come, I make His life easier, I make Him smile that lovely smile of His. I went through protocol training without too much ‘correction’.

So why do I feel like I’m a bad submissive?

Maybe it’s that oral sex thing. I have the hardest time orgasming from oral sex. I really have to focus and concentrate, and lately, I just flail and get frustrated and I don’t get much pleasure out of it. I tense and tense and tense to the point where I feel self-conscious.

Fuck. Dammit. I’m not a bad submissive.

I’m sitting here at 4am (Sir will be grouchy when He realizes I’ve been up all night) worrying over this.

Fuck. I didn’t think I would be brought to tears over my submissive insecurities. It’s my blog and I’ll cry if I want to.

Only once since I explored this have I ever been called “not submissive enough” for someone. I took the comment with a grain of salt, was somewhat insulted, and chain smoked Marlboro Ultra Lights as soon as I stepped out of J’s apartment. I wrote the experience off as chemistry not clicking. J had told me as I was getting dressed, “Maybe we’ll cross paths one day. Maybe ten years from now you’ll be what I’m looking for. But for now, you’re not.” Which was fine. It wasn’t much of a relationship.

But this. I would be so upset if Sir dumped me because I wasn’t “submissive enough” or I wasn’t good enough. Actually, upset would be putting it nicely. I would be devastated. I don’t know why I have all this doubt seeping under my skin, making me cry, making me worry myself awake.

But I can’t stop crying.

I know this probably sounds ridiculous to all the Dominants out there, a submissive girl, barely a woman, worrying over whether she’s good enough for her Master.

I should be a big submissive and suck it up and deal with it. Like I suck it up and deal with pain, with orders, with nipple clamps, with seemingly endless canings.

But I can’t.

Posted: August 12th, 2008 under emotional.
Comments: 1

I looked at the measly shoe collection I had. Dorming at ECU for the summer left me with very little shoe choice. A pair of exercise sneakers. A pair of Vans-like sneakers. Gorgeous, sparkly high heels that are murder on my feet but are absolutely fabulous. They’re black, studded with rhinestones. I kicked off my soggy Vans sneakers. I had stepped in a puddle and they were wet. Sir informed me of a violet wand demo at the nearest fetish club.

I was in a mood. Not horny, as Sir asked me. If I were horny, I would just have asked permission to masturbate with my vibrator and be done with it. No, I was in a mood to talk to people, interact. Make trouble. So I wore what I had worn around all day (polo, skirt, stupid blue polka dot panties) and walked to the public transportation. Oh, okay, I made a little bit more effort than that. I wore contacts, brushed and pulled my hair back into pigtails and used mouthwash. I locked my collar around my throat. I sighed and shoved my feet into my black flip flops. You know the kind. Old Navy flip flops. Plain black. With sparkly red nail polish on my toes.

After the violet wand demo, to my disappointment, most of the interesting looking couples left. I made a big dork out of myself at the demo. (I don’t think I like violet wands that much. Go figure.)

You see, Sir put in place a few rules.

• I could play with women.
• I could play with couples.
• I could only play with guys if I was EXTREMELY comfortable.
• I had to tell people I was not only collared, but owned.

Which made me feel a lot better.

So of course, men filtered into the club after the demo. Men looked me over, said hi. I subconsciously stroked and touched my collar. One Master I remembered from TESfest complimented my collar.

I was sitting on the couch watching a femdom and her sub boy onstage when a guy in a black shirt and jeans came up to me. He asked me my name. Then he asked if I was ever very mad at a guy before. I didn’t know where the conversation would lead so I didn’t really give a hard answer. Then he asked if I would be interested in stepping on his chest.

Note: For all my blog reading, I did not know that trampling was the BDSM euphemism for this. I learned about this later.

He lay on the floor and after I asked him a good number of times if this was really okay, I tentatively stepped on his chest with bare feet. He made a noise and I gasped and asked if he was okay.

“Honey, I’m in heaven. And you’re light as a feather.”

“Don’t flatter me.” I said dryly. With a shock, I looked up and noticed a small crowd had gathered of men. Some very jealous looking men.

He asked my age as I shifted my weight around. I hesitated.

“I shouldn’t tell you my age. I started exploring BDSM 20 years ago.” He said with a groan as I planted my foot in the middle of his chest. I was giggling, God help me. Giggling as I was, well, trampling on a man.

“My Sir is 40.” I said.

He laughed, with almost made me lose my balance. “I’m 39.”

After he had me push down on his chest with my feet and bounce up and down a bit, he helped me off and I scurried outside to call Sir. I told him what happened.

“Wait… you stepped on him in bare feet?” He said as I chewed on a nail.

“I wore flip flops out here.”

“You wore flip flops to a BDSM club? I love you.” He laughed.

I went back inside and he proceeded to give me a foot and leg massage as I talked to a friend of Sir and I. He massaged and massaged and then proceeded to actually lick my toes. He didn’t take any part in the conversation. Men stalked by, eyeing both him and I. One guy stuck around and watched me even though nothing sexual was going on.`He licked and nibbled at my dirty toes. (Flip flops in the big city mean that toes and feet get very, very dirty sometimes.) I guess I was… objectifying him, wasn’t I? Having him rub my feet and not acknowledging him, on his knees, while I carried on a conversation with another man. Hmm.

Then he accidentally tickled me and my foot flew out and accidentally kicked him in the face.

“OhmygoshI’msosorry!” I said all in one breath. I sat up. He looked… happy. He certainly didn’t look like he was in any sort of distress.

All of a sudden I just have this urge to play with a sub boy. Fuck him with a strap on. Torture his cock and balls. Make him worship my feet. Watch Sir flog him. Spanking the sub boy with a paddle, not my tiny, girly hands. Using those tiny hands to pinch his nipples. Slap his face.

Sir ordered me to pinch His nipples while I gave Him a handjob yesterday. While He was listening in on a phone conference, go figure. He would urge me to go harder, harder, harder. I was so tentative. Making sure He was okay.

“You can go much harder than that, pet.”

So I did. I was pinching hard as I stroked His cock. I liked seeing Him grimace and saying “fuck” underneath His breath as I pinched. I was squeezing hard when He said abruptly “Don’t stop.”

So I went harder. I was surprised at how hard I could pinch and watching His face closely, closed eyes, pursed lips. Then His cock exploded all over His stomach and my hand- which surprised me too.

I  was surprised at how, well, fun it was. Fun to pinch His nipples and watch Him hiss in pain. Just like I was surprised at how fun it was to stand on a man’s chest and make him suck on my dirty toes.

So maybe I’m ready to explore this side of myself. I have these urges, but sometimes they feel overwhelming, like I quite don’t know what to do. I guess I have to see how things develop.

Posted: July 30th, 2008 under club, emotional, first time.
Comments: none