Today was mega busy so I am glad it is over, too much work and not enough chilling time.
Sometimes I sort of forget that I am property, not in a way that means I think I am vanilla, just that it is so much of my everyday life that the tag just doesn't really register. Then suddenly I think about it and it makes me focus on it more. Today was one such day. Probably because MT has been unwell I have not given it a lot of thought lately. As there are signs of her appearing again, it seems to have re-sparked my awareness.
After work I looked in the mirror and realised I had not been keeping my body shaved as well as I normally do. In fact a couple of areas had remained unshaven for a while, areas which I am normally required to maintain. So obviously, being aware of my slippage, I started to put things back to how they should be. It is funny how a simple thing like this not only reminds me I am property but also gives me this deep sense of being owned. As I shaved, it even made me take a few deeper breaths, I take deeper breaths sometimes when MT is using me or humiliating me. It is as though I suddenly need more air, not in a bad way, just that I need to catch my breath.
In many ways I feel sort of resentful that my slavery can not be totally transparent. I feel I should be totally visible as MT's property at all times. I suppose I personally relate more to an ancient slave than any other type. I sometimes crave that MT could lead me around chained and naked whenever and wherever she wanted. I know I would be mortified by this, but somehow I feel that it is the way I should be. I love our life together, but can't help but feel we are living our lives in a way we were not meant to.
I expect, to many this may sound like so many fantasies that people have. But I do not feel it as a fantasy, it feels more like that I have been sort of cheated out of the life we could have had. I know a life like that would be harsh and perhaps it might have even broken me, probably would have, but it just feels like it is the way it should have been.
MT has said on several occasions she would love us to have a time together alone in a remote location where she could really treat me as she wants. To totally break me down. She has told me some of what she wants and even though I know her very well I was quite suprised at the depths she wants to take me. I actually felt a certain amount of fear yet I also felt a certain degree of disappointment that we can not actually do it yet. I really have become a strange creature.
Showing posts with label tiredness. Show all posts
Showing posts with label tiredness. Show all posts
Tuesday, 8 March 2011
Friday, 28 January 2011
Sleepless in Suffolk.
There are many things I have found difficult about being property, I have at my worst moments wondered if I am actually the slave equivalent of the antiChrist. As time has passed, I have improved, well MT made me so I had no choice. I am still a work in progress but I do think (and more importantly so does MT) that I have made significant advances in recent weeks. I am just hoping that there will not be a any regression, hoping as much for my sake as well as MT's, as I know she will move swiftly against any negative changes.
Recently I have tried analyzing why I sometimes struggle so much, seemingly from nowhere. The inherent issue of not liking being told what to do I have sort of reconciled... ok a bit ;) I have noticed a fairly consistent pattern, I am usually at my worst when I am tired. The more I have thought about this the more sure I am. Like many people, when tired I have less tolerance and just usually want to chill out or sleep. If I can't do either I get stressed, when stressed I am often a real nightmare, and then my world implodes and I start to make those around me very unhappy.
Bedtime can be a busy time when one is the slave of a woman such as MT. The desire to sleep often overrides my desire to serve, of course I serve, that is my function. I often serve until 1-00 am and then get to sleep shortly after, then at 7-30 ish I get up and go to work. The night is peppered with generally being unable to sleep, pain and numbness in limbs, toilet trips etc, so I end up tired. The next day is busy with work and then the cycle continues, usually a downwards spiral as I get more and more tired. This then becomes more and more of a problem and an eruption is only a matter of time. Then it is 'hang head in shame and apologise time'.
So, having discovered this, I am experimenting with going to bed earlier, so I can serve and get to sleep a bit earlier. At the moment, it seems to be an improvement, I am getting less tired and subsequently less stressed and have not kicked off in a while....Result.
This week is a busy one, I am working tomorrow (Saturday) which is a bit of a downer, but Sunday and Monday are non work days, well non work apart from whatever MT gives me. She is generally very receptive to my pleas of 'please, I need a rest', well most of the time... unless there is a pressing orgasm or ten to have of course, in which case its business as normal.
Recently I have tried analyzing why I sometimes struggle so much, seemingly from nowhere. The inherent issue of not liking being told what to do I have sort of reconciled... ok a bit ;) I have noticed a fairly consistent pattern, I am usually at my worst when I am tired. The more I have thought about this the more sure I am. Like many people, when tired I have less tolerance and just usually want to chill out or sleep. If I can't do either I get stressed, when stressed I am often a real nightmare, and then my world implodes and I start to make those around me very unhappy.
Bedtime can be a busy time when one is the slave of a woman such as MT. The desire to sleep often overrides my desire to serve, of course I serve, that is my function. I often serve until 1-00 am and then get to sleep shortly after, then at 7-30 ish I get up and go to work. The night is peppered with generally being unable to sleep, pain and numbness in limbs, toilet trips etc, so I end up tired. The next day is busy with work and then the cycle continues, usually a downwards spiral as I get more and more tired. This then becomes more and more of a problem and an eruption is only a matter of time. Then it is 'hang head in shame and apologise time'.
So, having discovered this, I am experimenting with going to bed earlier, so I can serve and get to sleep a bit earlier. At the moment, it seems to be an improvement, I am getting less tired and subsequently less stressed and have not kicked off in a while....Result.
This week is a busy one, I am working tomorrow (Saturday) which is a bit of a downer, but Sunday and Monday are non work days, well non work apart from whatever MT gives me. She is generally very receptive to my pleas of 'please, I need a rest', well most of the time... unless there is a pressing orgasm or ten to have of course, in which case its business as normal.
Thursday, 6 January 2011
A bit about me.
I thought it might be an idea to write a little bit about me and my history, just to give some idea as to my background. Obviously, even giving little snap shots, a lot has happened in my 54 years on this little planet. I will divide it into little parts and post now and again along with my other rubbish, I mean thoughts.
Part One - Childhood;
Apparently I was a 'blue baby' , ( I knew I was different) the cord was around my neck or was it my parents hands. This lack of oxygen at such an important time probably accounts for many things in my life, see its not my fault I am a little crazy.
My father worked long hours, 6 or 7 days a week usually. Although hardworking he had a very violent temper, I inherited the temper but not the violence. My Mother, God rest her soul, was very warm and loving and was extremely protective of me and my two younger brothers. Unfortunately, she was no match for my Father and was unable to stop my beatings. There was a pattern, Dad would come home tired from work, Mum would wind him up about something and then keep going on about it. He would then fly into a rage and I would end up being the target. Some times I did deserve some admonishment, but not the type I used to get.
I hated school with a passion, I would often feign illness and would go to extreme lengths to be/ look too ill. This worked reasonably well, it does with an overprotective Mother. Days when my acting was unsuccessful would result in me trying to bunk off school as soon as the register was completed. Letters to my parents were not delivered by me and those sent to the house were usually intercepted. Unfortunately, although I would dispose of most of the letters for parents evening, some got through, this was bad news.
At 13 my Dad asked me to leave with him to start a new life with another woman. I declined, there was massive turmoil and Mum went nuts. Dad ended up not leaving, to be honest I was disappointed, I had been looking forward to being head of the house and of course for the beatings to stop. I went to a very rough school, I was one of just a handful of children whose parents owned their own house. I was also one of the same few who actually wore school uniform, this was as good as writing 'please hit me and take my dinner money' and of course they did, day after day after day.
The summer of 1969 was to be a big time in my life and from then on nothing was ever quite the same. Dear Daddy tried to punch me in the kitchen and I caught his hand and bent it up behing his back and told him he would never hit me again. I was gobsmacked, he glared, I glared more, he struggled, I kept him in place. Suddenly, I saw his look change, he no longer looked so big and so intimidating, he stopped struggling and I let him go. He never raised his hand to me again, if only I had known before how simple it would be.
This event gave me confidence, I was tired of being bullied and pushed around and decided things must change. During the Summer break, I came across some of the school bullies who pulled their usual stunts. I just let go of all that pent up fear, years of being scared suddenly disolved and my wrath was unleashed...it felt so good and at last I was free. On return to school my reputation was ten times higher than the actual events, no more bullying, I kept my dinner money and life felt good. To be continued...
Meanwhile, in present day England, I am feeling totally shattered, following a very busy day at work, and a spat with MT which I am really sorry about. All is well now, so that's good.Work is getting very busy and I am running out of time to fit all the customers in, I'm not going to be getting many days off I fear.
On Friday night MT is taking me to a Bi Swingers/ BDSM night at a venue near London. We have been several times, on each occasions unspeakable things have occurred to the poor slave. So, I am feeling the usual fear and trepidation, I know it will be a night of hard physical use and humiliation and on Saturday I will spend the day recovering, physically and psychologically.
At least MT should enjoy it.
Part One - Childhood;
Apparently I was a 'blue baby' , ( I knew I was different) the cord was around my neck or was it my parents hands. This lack of oxygen at such an important time probably accounts for many things in my life, see its not my fault I am a little crazy.
My father worked long hours, 6 or 7 days a week usually. Although hardworking he had a very violent temper, I inherited the temper but not the violence. My Mother, God rest her soul, was very warm and loving and was extremely protective of me and my two younger brothers. Unfortunately, she was no match for my Father and was unable to stop my beatings. There was a pattern, Dad would come home tired from work, Mum would wind him up about something and then keep going on about it. He would then fly into a rage and I would end up being the target. Some times I did deserve some admonishment, but not the type I used to get.
I hated school with a passion, I would often feign illness and would go to extreme lengths to be/ look too ill. This worked reasonably well, it does with an overprotective Mother. Days when my acting was unsuccessful would result in me trying to bunk off school as soon as the register was completed. Letters to my parents were not delivered by me and those sent to the house were usually intercepted. Unfortunately, although I would dispose of most of the letters for parents evening, some got through, this was bad news.
At 13 my Dad asked me to leave with him to start a new life with another woman. I declined, there was massive turmoil and Mum went nuts. Dad ended up not leaving, to be honest I was disappointed, I had been looking forward to being head of the house and of course for the beatings to stop. I went to a very rough school, I was one of just a handful of children whose parents owned their own house. I was also one of the same few who actually wore school uniform, this was as good as writing 'please hit me and take my dinner money' and of course they did, day after day after day.
The summer of 1969 was to be a big time in my life and from then on nothing was ever quite the same. Dear Daddy tried to punch me in the kitchen and I caught his hand and bent it up behing his back and told him he would never hit me again. I was gobsmacked, he glared, I glared more, he struggled, I kept him in place. Suddenly, I saw his look change, he no longer looked so big and so intimidating, he stopped struggling and I let him go. He never raised his hand to me again, if only I had known before how simple it would be.
This event gave me confidence, I was tired of being bullied and pushed around and decided things must change. During the Summer break, I came across some of the school bullies who pulled their usual stunts. I just let go of all that pent up fear, years of being scared suddenly disolved and my wrath was unleashed...it felt so good and at last I was free. On return to school my reputation was ten times higher than the actual events, no more bullying, I kept my dinner money and life felt good. To be continued...
Meanwhile, in present day England, I am feeling totally shattered, following a very busy day at work, and a spat with MT which I am really sorry about. All is well now, so that's good.Work is getting very busy and I am running out of time to fit all the customers in, I'm not going to be getting many days off I fear.
On Friday night MT is taking me to a Bi Swingers/ BDSM night at a venue near London. We have been several times, on each occasions unspeakable things have occurred to the poor slave. So, I am feeling the usual fear and trepidation, I know it will be a night of hard physical use and humiliation and on Saturday I will spend the day recovering, physically and psychologically.
At least MT should enjoy it.
Monday, 3 January 2011
Bodies.
Today started way too early. I awoke to the sound of the telephone. At first I thought I was dreaming but unfortunately I wasn't. It was the emergency Care Company that one of the elderly ladies I work for subscribes to. Apparently, her emergency buzzer had been operated but they could get no response from her. She has a pacemaker, has had two serious strokes and has a history of falling over and breaking her limbs.
I was quite stressed, because we have a very close relationship, and I feared the worse. So i did not waste any time on the drive to her house. I let myself in with the emergency key and found her lying on the sitting room floor. Fortunately she was fine, just a bit shaken and unable to get up under her own steam. So it was just a case of checking her over before getting her into her chair and making her the compulsory cup of tea.
Today was MT's swimming day and my spell at the gym, I really needed far more sleep than I had got before that. The gym was hard work today, I felt far too tired, had missed the last two weeks and my knee was playing up. Apart from that it was fine.Then it was off to do the food shop and a quick look around the town and chasing down some hair stuff MT deemed essential to life.
Speaking of hair, last night MT gave me a slight admonishment. Sin of sins, I had not shaved my head properly, there were some tiny hairs unshaven in the crease at the back of my head. I was then given a quick lecture on the need to ensure my appearance was up to the required standards. Of course I apologised for my appalling lack of attention to detail. FFS.
The appearance thing is a bit of a pain in the arse sometimes. I hate shaving my face, (although I do not like more than three days stubble) and should shave every day. My head has to be kept shaved every day. There must be no nasal hair showing, no hair in ears or on ears. Eyebrows have to be plucked and trimmed - MT does the plucking and somehow manages to make it an exceptionally painful experience, what a surprise. Chest, cock, balls and butt cheeks have to be kept free of hair (except when she randomly decides otherwise), hair removal method optional. Ok, so you probably did not want to know about those bits but hey, why should I be the only one who suffers? Also after all the sub women posts about the trials and tribulations of maintaining their bikini lines, revenge is long overdue.
I have to work out and keep my weight in her decreed range, and she wants muscles for a few months then decrees she fancies more hipbones. I then have to start bulking again when she changes her mind again. All nails must be trimmed and cleaned, hands smooth with no hard skin .I have to wear clothes MT has selected/ approved and must never be in her presence with just my socks on. I'd be bloody well lucky to find any fucking socks in this house....
With the public announcement last night of one of MT's pet names for me being 'Pixie Cat' and the attendant feedback (thanks everyone) I have decided to give up any hope of masculine ego on this blog. But out in the big wide world I will continue to maintain my effective 'facade' of utter manliness.The next male to piss me off had better beware, there is a lot of latent masculinity waiting to explode....
...Eyebrows not withstanding.
Postscript; Did I forget to mention I shagged MT senseless for several hours this afternoon? I can live with my lack of masculinity.
I was quite stressed, because we have a very close relationship, and I feared the worse. So i did not waste any time on the drive to her house. I let myself in with the emergency key and found her lying on the sitting room floor. Fortunately she was fine, just a bit shaken and unable to get up under her own steam. So it was just a case of checking her over before getting her into her chair and making her the compulsory cup of tea.
Today was MT's swimming day and my spell at the gym, I really needed far more sleep than I had got before that. The gym was hard work today, I felt far too tired, had missed the last two weeks and my knee was playing up. Apart from that it was fine.Then it was off to do the food shop and a quick look around the town and chasing down some hair stuff MT deemed essential to life.
Speaking of hair, last night MT gave me a slight admonishment. Sin of sins, I had not shaved my head properly, there were some tiny hairs unshaven in the crease at the back of my head. I was then given a quick lecture on the need to ensure my appearance was up to the required standards. Of course I apologised for my appalling lack of attention to detail. FFS.
The appearance thing is a bit of a pain in the arse sometimes. I hate shaving my face, (although I do not like more than three days stubble) and should shave every day. My head has to be kept shaved every day. There must be no nasal hair showing, no hair in ears or on ears. Eyebrows have to be plucked and trimmed - MT does the plucking and somehow manages to make it an exceptionally painful experience, what a surprise. Chest, cock, balls and butt cheeks have to be kept free of hair (except when she randomly decides otherwise), hair removal method optional. Ok, so you probably did not want to know about those bits but hey, why should I be the only one who suffers? Also after all the sub women posts about the trials and tribulations of maintaining their bikini lines, revenge is long overdue.
I have to work out and keep my weight in her decreed range, and she wants muscles for a few months then decrees she fancies more hipbones. I then have to start bulking again when she changes her mind again. All nails must be trimmed and cleaned, hands smooth with no hard skin .I have to wear clothes MT has selected/ approved and must never be in her presence with just my socks on. I'd be bloody well lucky to find any fucking socks in this house....
With the public announcement last night of one of MT's pet names for me being 'Pixie Cat' and the attendant feedback (thanks everyone) I have decided to give up any hope of masculine ego on this blog. But out in the big wide world I will continue to maintain my effective 'facade' of utter manliness.The next male to piss me off had better beware, there is a lot of latent masculinity waiting to explode....
...Eyebrows not withstanding.
Postscript; Did I forget to mention I shagged MT senseless for several hours this afternoon? I can live with my lack of masculinity.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)