It is 19:32 and I have just carried out the physical preparations for my night out with MT. I have been thinking about it all day while I was working. It is hard to focus sometimes on the accepted 'normal' parts of a day when you have specific 'normal' slave use ahead of you.
All the hair removal has been done, it takes ages, MT will no doubt do her usual inspection before we go out so I hope it is all in order. Freshly showered, and manicured, I really do feel like property, a piece of meat to be paraded around and used for someone else's pleasure, amusement, or both. Of course it is not about me, I have to keep reminding myself of this simple slave fact almost every day. Everything is for MT, it is so hard sometimes to action this rather than just have it as an ethos.
Soon I will have to go and get the silver box ready, the silver box is our 'take out' box of toys, the rest of the stock is kept separate. MT has told me the main components to pack, my heart always sinks when this includes the strap on, although I was relieved to note the lube was also required, see there are some positives. Njoy is having a night out too, how sweet it will be to publicly show it off, I just can't wait. Groan.
There are also to be canes, crops and the dreaded Tyburn, that really must disappear soon, maybe it might get stolen or accidentally left behind.The spiked glans ring is to be included - this is one nasty piece of work, adjustable spikes which go around the internal circumference, painful normally but one does not wish to become aroused, although in all honesty there is not much chance of that.
I hate the one and a half hour drive, every mile is a mile closer to my downfall, the drive back is not much better as MT taunts me with my acts and I also am usually very uncomfortable after severe canings etc.
On the plus side, MT looks absolutely stunning, she looks really hot and sexy, unfortunately everyone else will also think so and the 'green eyed monster' will have to hold in check. As usual, I am under strict instructions to be on my best behaviour, even to creepy wankers who try to get into my Owners knickers, don't I just love 'em.
I always feel proud to go anywhere with her, she looks so beautiful and exudes a raw sexiness, I am lucky to be her property, well, apart from the sadistic bit.
Tomorrows blog should be fun. Not.
Friday, 7 January 2011
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.
Wednesday, 5 January 2011
Owners and dark places.
My day started early, before I had both eyes fully open MT was jumping my bones, well just the one actually. I was still pretty exhausted from last nights performances. I am really sleep deprived at present. Lately MT has been on one of her recurrent missions of cramming in as much sex as possible, and I rarely know if I am coming or going (or gone).
I feel so used. Anyone would think I am some kind of sex toy ;) Ok, is that why she sometimes refers to me as her dildo? I get it now. At least this current run of activity is with me on the 'giving' rather than 'receiving' end of things, so sitting is much more comfortable than sometimes. This is massively preferable.
I am so tired though, especially now I am back at work. My whole life seems to be about being stuffed into dark places and finding it difficult to breathe. After MT this morning, I had to work in a dark and very hot loft. The MT bit was of course enjoyable, the loft wasn't. That bloody fibreglass gets everywhere.
Lunchtime was busy, I had extra time which meant extra time for sexual service, so after work again this afternoon I am already feeling totally shagged. It is now 17:10 hrs, the night is young, but so is MT.... I fear the night ahead - dramatic sigh.
MT is looking very radiant and sexy. She has a certain look when she is like this. I can see it in her eyes, the hope of a long sleep is ebbing fast . If I said I had a headache she will just slap me and tell me not to be such a snivelling cunt, or at a push provide painkillers - she is caring and romantic like that.
What a lucky slave I am.
I feel so used. Anyone would think I am some kind of sex toy ;) Ok, is that why she sometimes refers to me as her dildo? I get it now. At least this current run of activity is with me on the 'giving' rather than 'receiving' end of things, so sitting is much more comfortable than sometimes. This is massively preferable.
I am so tired though, especially now I am back at work. My whole life seems to be about being stuffed into dark places and finding it difficult to breathe. After MT this morning, I had to work in a dark and very hot loft. The MT bit was of course enjoyable, the loft wasn't. That bloody fibreglass gets everywhere.
Lunchtime was busy, I had extra time which meant extra time for sexual service, so after work again this afternoon I am already feeling totally shagged. It is now 17:10 hrs, the night is young, but so is MT.... I fear the night ahead - dramatic sigh.
MT is looking very radiant and sexy. She has a certain look when she is like this. I can see it in her eyes, the hope of a long sleep is ebbing fast . If I said I had a headache she will just slap me and tell me not to be such a snivelling cunt, or at a push provide painkillers - she is caring and romantic like that.
What a lucky slave I am.
Tuesday, 4 January 2011
Humiliated me.
There are a myriad of types of things an Owner can do to their property. The impact of them on their property can be anywhere on a range from zero effect to total devastation. Of course all relationships vary, each one is unique. However there are also likely to be some generic similarities. Physical and psychological techniques are often deployed to greater or lesser degrees.
Pain is a great 'motivator' to many people, it can be used to make someone do something, stop them from doing something or purely for fun. MT uses it for all three reasons. It is effective, especially as I hate pain. (As an aside, I do not get any direct sexual pleasure from pain - ok, apart from some CBT - but all other pain has a tendency to totally remove my sexual desire). I can endure a lot of pain however, probably in part due to my huge internal driver of never liking to be beaten by anything, not even my beloved owner.
Unfortunately for me, MT is a sadist and also likes to win. I therefore always end up having to accede (sometimes an early capitulation is wise to avoid unnecessary suffering - why take all that pain when you know from the start that you will eventually give in)? See? I'm learning....
Restrictions and removal of priveleges can also be very effective. The threat of no motorbike rides, TV, the threat of having to sell another motorbike (panic and sudden sick feeling just at the thought of it), ban of orgasms, being made to do tasks etc all have their use.The lure of treats and priveleges (bribery) works for some, but this is not used much by MT - unfortunately for me.
In my case, however, the method that brings me to heel and has the biggest impact is humiliation.
The wikipedia uses the following definition (edited)
'Humiliation (also called stultification) is the abasement of pride, which creates mortification or leads to a state of being humbled or reduced to lowliness or submission. It can be brought about through bullying, intimidation, physical or mental mistreatment or trickery, or by embarrassment if a person is revealed to have committed a socially or legally unacceptable act.'
The threat of certain humiliating acts is often enough to keep me in line if I'm being a wanker. Being actively humiliated by MT brings me down instantly and leaves me in a state of full compliance and total submission.Before meeting MT I had never really experienced humiliation, it was usually me dishing it out to other people. In all honesty, I had know idea of the impact of humiliation on people, which sounds a bit irresponsible I suppose, but then if I had known, well, I probably would have exploited it even further. Did I mention my sadistic side.
On our first ever physical action session, MT introduced me to humiliation in no uncertain terms, nothing like breaking someone in gently, though actually there was no breaking in gently. I was totally gobsmacked that this sweet looking slip of a girl (she's seventeen years younger than I am) had just done what she had to me without any pretence or effort or even considering she couldn't, and it has been all downhill for me from that point on.
One of the other significant moments was when I was first ordered to crawl across a room at a BDSM event. I had never crawled before, let alone publicly, and I found myself gasping for air as I hyperventilated and then experienced one of the biggest legal highs I have ever had. I think even MT was suprised by the impact, silly me for showing it.
Humiliation features quite heavily in our lives, it is something I (now) crave and yet detest all at the same time. A good beating can easily remind me of my place and calms me down when I am getting a bit 'tricky', but a heavy session of humiliation really knocks me down and keeps me down for ages. When I feel things are getting a bit on top of me I sometimes actually tell MT I could do with some humiliation, how sick is that? Being humiliated in front of others is the biggest knockdown, there have been so many times when I wish I could have just vanished into thin air. Being made to talk and stay around people who I have been humiliated in front of or with, is so hard, almost as hard as the acts themselves.
The other important element of the effectiveness of humiliation on me is the continual reminders I get from MT. MT will taunt me with what I did, how I looked and often uses derogatory terms for me, even worse than her pet names as if that should be possible ;) Being told things such as , 'you are a disgrace' , don't you dare try to kiss me' , 'how can you possibly takes your eyes up from looking at the floor' etc are typical, but others are far more descriptive and insulting. I'll leave them to your imagination though - what do you think I am, some kind of masochist?
I hate humiliation, yet now I crave it more than most other things. Given my history this is quite the feat on her part. I'd only ever let her humiliate me. I often wonder why it has this effect on me, I can hazard some guesses but there is nothing that I can actually pinpoint as being the primary reason. It is so strange as I used to use it so much on others, it's a good job that those I humiliated can not see me being humiliated...that would be tooooooo much.
********
Changing the subject completely, I feel quite sad tonight, one of my elderly customers has a wife with severe Alzheimers, he has been looking after her at home for many years. He is in his nineties, they have been married for 66 years. He is a fantastic guy who suffers from ill health as well but seldom complains. He was so sad today, he looked like a man who has just had enough of life. I asked him if he was ok, he said 'no not really, my wife has got to go into a home, I can't cope with her violence anymore, I just can't do it anymore, 66 years of being with her just shouldn't end like this, it's just not right'. I said all the usual things you say, but of course they are useless. Yet another reminder of how lucky I am to have the life I have. But it makes me worry sometimes, none of us ever know what lies in wait for us in the future.
Pain is a great 'motivator' to many people, it can be used to make someone do something, stop them from doing something or purely for fun. MT uses it for all three reasons. It is effective, especially as I hate pain. (As an aside, I do not get any direct sexual pleasure from pain - ok, apart from some CBT - but all other pain has a tendency to totally remove my sexual desire). I can endure a lot of pain however, probably in part due to my huge internal driver of never liking to be beaten by anything, not even my beloved owner.
Unfortunately for me, MT is a sadist and also likes to win. I therefore always end up having to accede (sometimes an early capitulation is wise to avoid unnecessary suffering - why take all that pain when you know from the start that you will eventually give in)? See? I'm learning....
Restrictions and removal of priveleges can also be very effective. The threat of no motorbike rides, TV, the threat of having to sell another motorbike (panic and sudden sick feeling just at the thought of it), ban of orgasms, being made to do tasks etc all have their use.The lure of treats and priveleges (bribery) works for some, but this is not used much by MT - unfortunately for me.
In my case, however, the method that brings me to heel and has the biggest impact is humiliation.
The wikipedia uses the following definition (edited)
'Humiliation (also called stultification) is the abasement of pride, which creates mortification or leads to a state of being humbled or reduced to lowliness or submission. It can be brought about through bullying, intimidation, physical or mental mistreatment or trickery, or by embarrassment if a person is revealed to have committed a socially or legally unacceptable act.'
The threat of certain humiliating acts is often enough to keep me in line if I'm being a wanker. Being actively humiliated by MT brings me down instantly and leaves me in a state of full compliance and total submission.Before meeting MT I had never really experienced humiliation, it was usually me dishing it out to other people. In all honesty, I had know idea of the impact of humiliation on people, which sounds a bit irresponsible I suppose, but then if I had known, well, I probably would have exploited it even further. Did I mention my sadistic side.
On our first ever physical action session, MT introduced me to humiliation in no uncertain terms, nothing like breaking someone in gently, though actually there was no breaking in gently. I was totally gobsmacked that this sweet looking slip of a girl (she's seventeen years younger than I am) had just done what she had to me without any pretence or effort or even considering she couldn't, and it has been all downhill for me from that point on.
One of the other significant moments was when I was first ordered to crawl across a room at a BDSM event. I had never crawled before, let alone publicly, and I found myself gasping for air as I hyperventilated and then experienced one of the biggest legal highs I have ever had. I think even MT was suprised by the impact, silly me for showing it.
Humiliation features quite heavily in our lives, it is something I (now) crave and yet detest all at the same time. A good beating can easily remind me of my place and calms me down when I am getting a bit 'tricky', but a heavy session of humiliation really knocks me down and keeps me down for ages. When I feel things are getting a bit on top of me I sometimes actually tell MT I could do with some humiliation, how sick is that? Being humiliated in front of others is the biggest knockdown, there have been so many times when I wish I could have just vanished into thin air. Being made to talk and stay around people who I have been humiliated in front of or with, is so hard, almost as hard as the acts themselves.
The other important element of the effectiveness of humiliation on me is the continual reminders I get from MT. MT will taunt me with what I did, how I looked and often uses derogatory terms for me, even worse than her pet names as if that should be possible ;) Being told things such as , 'you are a disgrace' , don't you dare try to kiss me' , 'how can you possibly takes your eyes up from looking at the floor' etc are typical, but others are far more descriptive and insulting. I'll leave them to your imagination though - what do you think I am, some kind of masochist?
I hate humiliation, yet now I crave it more than most other things. Given my history this is quite the feat on her part. I'd only ever let her humiliate me. I often wonder why it has this effect on me, I can hazard some guesses but there is nothing that I can actually pinpoint as being the primary reason. It is so strange as I used to use it so much on others, it's a good job that those I humiliated can not see me being humiliated...that would be tooooooo much.
********
Changing the subject completely, I feel quite sad tonight, one of my elderly customers has a wife with severe Alzheimers, he has been looking after her at home for many years. He is in his nineties, they have been married for 66 years. He is a fantastic guy who suffers from ill health as well but seldom complains. He was so sad today, he looked like a man who has just had enough of life. I asked him if he was ok, he said 'no not really, my wife has got to go into a home, I can't cope with her violence anymore, I just can't do it anymore, 66 years of being with her just shouldn't end like this, it's just not right'. I said all the usual things you say, but of course they are useless. Yet another reminder of how lucky I am to have the life I have. But it makes me worry sometimes, none of us ever know what lies in wait for us in the future.
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.
Sunday, 2 January 2011
Damn Owners.
My transition from a free man to property is still ongoing. It started over 4 years ago, in some ways it seems like it has always been like this, in others, it feels like the past was someone else's life.
When I look back at the 'other' life I realise just how much everything has changed. Transition ? No, more like a war followed by rebirth. It has been anything but easy, I have struggled so much. Sometimes I wonder how MT has stayed in there as well as how I have remained her property. But we have, and that speaks volumes.
These are a list of some of the things I struggled with (some I still do)
1. Losing autonomy - I spent most of my life making my own decisions, creating my own destiny and in general, doing whatever I wanted. It would take a lifetime to record the chaos this caused, the world is safer now someone else is in control of me.
2. Promiscuity - Being limited to one woman. Most of my life was spent chasing around getting laid as many times as possible. It was possibly an addiction. Ok, I had a lot of fun and a lot of variety but it did not fulfil me. Now there is one woman and that one is more than enough for me. Hell, she'd be more than enough for the Red Army.
3. Spending Limitations - God I hated this one (I still dislike it) . I used to spend as and when I wanted, even when I did not actually have the money. On a whim I once brought a house without using a single penny of my own money. It cost £90,000 (which was a lot at the time especially as I had mortgages on two other properties as well).
4. Clothes - Not having the freedom to dress as I please or buy the clothes I want.Actually, this has transpired to be a good thing as MT makes me look much better than I would.Who knew money couldn't buy style?
5. Having to ask for things - Grrrrr this is a big one. Things such as - orgasms, sweets, junk foods, chocolate, alcohol, motor bike rides, TV , permission to go out etc etc .
6. Dominance - another big one. I have always been the one in charge and exerting my dominance on others. In my career, at one stage I was responsible for 26 establishments with a staff of over 1200 people. Now I am not even allowed to be in charge of me. Where did I go wrong?
7. Having to be nicer to people - I have little/no tolerance of people who piss me off. Ok, I admit I am one of the most least tolerant of people. It does not take much for some people to hack me off, in fact all some have to do is continue breathing. Joking aside, if someone does something I do not like I will go out of my way to a) let them know it and b) try to get retribution. MT dislikes this (unless she thinks it is warranted but then it has to be a really big thing).As a consequence, I am banned from hitting anyone or being offensive to them, unless MT decides to loosen leash.
8. Being used as a sex object - Due to items 2) and 6) above, this has been not only difficult but also bloody humiliating. Being used like this for me Owner has been bad enough but having to provide sexual services to men just for her entertainment, well that's just too much. I cannot tell you how much I hate this.
9. The names - Oh there have been so many, here are a few ; boy, kitten, bitch, cunt, dildo, baby-cakes, slut, slag, cupcake, muffin (note the baked goods fetish) piggy, pixie, pixie cat ? (WTF is a 'pixie cat'??? And why am I one)?
10. Not being able to stop her from stealing and losing my bloody socks. People have been hanged for less.
Those are the main ones, there are hundreds of other things, over time I am sure these will become apparent in other posts.
Saturday, 1 January 2011
Dented but not broken.
I hesitated before starting to write this blog today which is about last nights events. I still feel a little fragile about what happened and how I felt emotionally, and the impact it had on MT. It is also difficult, because it is part of one of the least flattering and hardest elements of my slavery. On reflection, having discussed it with MT, we decided that as it is very much a part of my life I should post it, not to do so would create a false impression.
The fact of how much I love MT was tested to it's fullest, I love her totally and I know she did not mean to hurt/ upset me in any way (other than her usual amount of physical sadism).
Dinner was great, MT cooked and we had some wine. After a relaxing coffee I was told to strip and crawl, nothing unusual there, and of course I was fitted and wearing my collar. The part I had been dreading 'go and fetch me the Tyburn love' was of course dutifully carried out. Positioned firstly on my back, my front was whipped, the pain horrible but within my threshold, just.
I was then repositioned onto my front, I asked to be excused a back whipping as my spondylosis was exceptionally painful after my days work. MT was very considerate and kindly acceded to my request. The Tyburn is an evil tool and I sincerely regret buying it. At first, although the lashings to my buttocks, thighs, calf's, ankles and feet were very painful they were sort of OK - if you are the property of a sadist like my owner you must learn to take pain, it's part of the territory. I utterly hate pain, but, in a fucked up sort of way, I have started to need it to help keep me focused and in check, so it works for us.
It was probably about 30 minutes before I started to feel like I could not take any more. |Each lash felt worse than the previous one. I could tell by the downward force and swishing sound in the air that they were of varying force, but the pain just seemed to build and build. Every nerve ending in my body seemed to be screaming 'fucking well stop this'. When in pain, I grunt, shout, scream, swear and sometimes when she is especially brutal end up sobbing, its pretty normal, and I did all but the latter.
My right buttock in particular felt like it was on fire and every blow was just so unbearable. In hindsight, I realise it was this painful because it had lots of cuts on it that are not healed yet. I just wanted to get up, I wanted to shout 'stop fucking hitting me you bitch' and other such niceties. BUT of course I couldn't could I? I am her property, she is free to do what she wants with me and it is my duty to try as hard as I can to make her happy, so I angrily, begrudgingly lay there and took it, until I eventually screamed so long and loudly that MT realised something was wrong.
I could tell she was very concerned, but to be honest, I was not focussed on her needs at that time. I had sort of 'shut-down'. I had become detached, I felt this huge sadness within and all around me. I felt empty and alone, lost, unloved, hurt and I suppose a little broken. I did not feel the rage I had when being beaten, just the opposite, I felt calm, calm but detached. On reflection, this is the third or fourth time this has happened when I have been beaten and have not been able to deal with the pain. There must be some kind of trigger that gets operated, perhaps its a chemical thing, some kind of protection device to anaesthetise things, to shut me off and help me survive. I hate this feeling so much.
MT was great as usual, she was worried because I felt like I did, I did not want her to feel upset, I wanted to tell her I was fine, that everything was ok, that I loved her with all my heart, but I couldn't. Although I knew the words were there I just could not access them, I just could not tell her those things. MT hugged me in bed, we got up to see the New Year in, watched some TV and went on the computer etc and then went to bed. I still felt the sadness and all the other things, but managed to utter the words 'I love you' before we went to sleep.
In the morning, I felt slightly better, but still hollow, we talked about it and I will post about the content of those discussions in another blog, because it is quite complex and is deserving of it's own space.
I wanted to feel ok again, I wanted to feel again, I wanted to say 'it is all ok I love you'. So when MT went to the bathroom, I went to our silver case, took out the strap on and put it on her pillow, and when she returned asked her to 'make love to me' (a phrase that is absolutely never usually associated with her fucking me like that, but it felt appropriate today, like it conveyed what I couldn't). Which she did, at first gently and then with most of her usual vigour and then I felt I was at 'home' again. Where I belong, serving my Owner and telling her how much I love her.
I still feel a bit shaky but much better than I did and reconnected to my owner. Being owned isn't easy, especially to a harsh sadist like my owner.
However it is where I belong.
The fact of how much I love MT was tested to it's fullest, I love her totally and I know she did not mean to hurt/ upset me in any way (other than her usual amount of physical sadism).
Dinner was great, MT cooked and we had some wine. After a relaxing coffee I was told to strip and crawl, nothing unusual there, and of course I was fitted and wearing my collar. The part I had been dreading 'go and fetch me the Tyburn love' was of course dutifully carried out. Positioned firstly on my back, my front was whipped, the pain horrible but within my threshold, just.
I was then repositioned onto my front, I asked to be excused a back whipping as my spondylosis was exceptionally painful after my days work. MT was very considerate and kindly acceded to my request. The Tyburn is an evil tool and I sincerely regret buying it. At first, although the lashings to my buttocks, thighs, calf's, ankles and feet were very painful they were sort of OK - if you are the property of a sadist like my owner you must learn to take pain, it's part of the territory. I utterly hate pain, but, in a fucked up sort of way, I have started to need it to help keep me focused and in check, so it works for us.
It was probably about 30 minutes before I started to feel like I could not take any more. |Each lash felt worse than the previous one. I could tell by the downward force and swishing sound in the air that they were of varying force, but the pain just seemed to build and build. Every nerve ending in my body seemed to be screaming 'fucking well stop this'. When in pain, I grunt, shout, scream, swear and sometimes when she is especially brutal end up sobbing, its pretty normal, and I did all but the latter.
My right buttock in particular felt like it was on fire and every blow was just so unbearable. In hindsight, I realise it was this painful because it had lots of cuts on it that are not healed yet. I just wanted to get up, I wanted to shout 'stop fucking hitting me you bitch' and other such niceties. BUT of course I couldn't could I? I am her property, she is free to do what she wants with me and it is my duty to try as hard as I can to make her happy, so I angrily, begrudgingly lay there and took it, until I eventually screamed so long and loudly that MT realised something was wrong.
I could tell she was very concerned, but to be honest, I was not focussed on her needs at that time. I had sort of 'shut-down'. I had become detached, I felt this huge sadness within and all around me. I felt empty and alone, lost, unloved, hurt and I suppose a little broken. I did not feel the rage I had when being beaten, just the opposite, I felt calm, calm but detached. On reflection, this is the third or fourth time this has happened when I have been beaten and have not been able to deal with the pain. There must be some kind of trigger that gets operated, perhaps its a chemical thing, some kind of protection device to anaesthetise things, to shut me off and help me survive. I hate this feeling so much.
MT was great as usual, she was worried because I felt like I did, I did not want her to feel upset, I wanted to tell her I was fine, that everything was ok, that I loved her with all my heart, but I couldn't. Although I knew the words were there I just could not access them, I just could not tell her those things. MT hugged me in bed, we got up to see the New Year in, watched some TV and went on the computer etc and then went to bed. I still felt the sadness and all the other things, but managed to utter the words 'I love you' before we went to sleep.
In the morning, I felt slightly better, but still hollow, we talked about it and I will post about the content of those discussions in another blog, because it is quite complex and is deserving of it's own space.
I wanted to feel ok again, I wanted to feel again, I wanted to say 'it is all ok I love you'. So when MT went to the bathroom, I went to our silver case, took out the strap on and put it on her pillow, and when she returned asked her to 'make love to me' (a phrase that is absolutely never usually associated with her fucking me like that, but it felt appropriate today, like it conveyed what I couldn't). Which she did, at first gently and then with most of her usual vigour and then I felt I was at 'home' again. Where I belong, serving my Owner and telling her how much I love her.
I still feel a bit shaky but much better than I did and reconnected to my owner. Being owned isn't easy, especially to a harsh sadist like my owner.
However it is where I belong.
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