Stream 

This is a stream of consciousness write today.  Usually, I have a definite scenario or subject in mind.  Today, I just need to get words on screen, so to speak. 

In the midst of moving in together I dropped my writing.  Not that I have an excuse.  Every intentional practice can easily fall by the wayside if you aren’t careful.  Really, ask me when I last went to the gym.

But this is important to me and to Mr. D.  So, no matter what is going on in life and how many days it’s been since I wrote, it is constantly on my mind. Like the D/s lifestyle, not always at the forefront of my focus but always there, always a part of me and of us.

I have been in a quandary lately about work.  My work is completely in the non-lifestyle non-friendly realm.  If anyone from my work happened to link this blog together with me I’d be looking for a job.  I love what I do but clearly I can’t be 100% me.  Can any of us really, though? Some can, most can’t.  It weighs on my mind lately though. I guess you do what you do until the cons outweigh the pros.  

The first two weeks of Mr. D and I living together have flown by.  It’s been a peaceful time fitting our lives together into a whole.  With a child in the house a majority of this time, we haven’t had much adult play time at all. 

I was so aware of this last night that I wound myself up into a needy little stress cadet. Everything that could go wrong did.  My child was stressed to go to dad’s.  His dad was late, house was locked, dinner late for Daddy, on and on.  I was so in my head about it all that our sex was affected.  

Learning curves are necessary but not always fun.  I’m still learning to put away my troubles and focus on how best to serve in the moment.  Last night, I was not so great at that.  I rushed my child and was late for Daddy.  I didn’t end up serving either one very well at all.  

So, I pick myself up and try again.  That’s all there is to do.  

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Chagrined

Daddy and I were talking and teasing in text.  We hadn’t seen each other for many days and both wanted the other rather desperately. 

As we were sharing our need of each other in text, my son was talking to me and at one point my brother was also talking to me.  Actually, my brother and son were yammering at each other and I was trying to keep my thoughts focused on what Daddy was telling me in text.

Daddy told me that he’d written for me.  I was to wear the butt plug and masturbate for him before I was allowed to read it.  If I did that then before I came, I could read his words and come to them. With all the boy/men noise in the house at that moment I barely got the message.  In jest, I texted Daddy back that I’d be pleased to do his ‘chores’ as he’d asked.  Ha ha,  I thought, he’ll think his little subbie was being playful and cute calling masturbation a chore.

Well, he most definitely did not think it cute.  The next text stated that whether I thought it a chore or not I’d better be prepared to do it and do it well.  He was not happy to hear that his allowing me to come for him was thought of as a chore. He told me that he expected me to arrive at his home the next night dressed to kill and ready to please.

I felt my heart drop down to my knees at that message.  What the hell was I thinking? What had I said? I had to go back up and read it.  The boys were still arguing so I took myself into the bathroom to get some quiet. Oh god, what have I done now? I thought. 

I apologized immediately but Daddy was none to pleased. He said I was his slave and his slut and he would enjoy me in all my roles when I arrived the next day.  I was beyond mortified.  He said some lovely things in text but I was still reeling from my own behavior and could barely get out of my head to read his loving words.

The next day was crazy busy. I was late getting dressed but I dressed to the nines as commanded. A tight black and white skirt that left nothing to the imagination, a low cut white blouse with black and white four inch heels to complete the look. He had specified no panties so there were none.  I drove to his place and prepared for his wrath and punishment.

I got a couple texts of Daddy checking in on me towards the evening.  They were soft and loving in tone.  I wondered if he felt bad for being strict but was too wrapped up in my anxiety to calm down.  I told myself to put on a smile.  Being dressed to kill was for him and wearing a sad pouty face just wouldn’t be serving Daddy.

When I arrived Daddy was sitting in his chair and there was a huge present on the bed.  He smiled at me and made me do pirouettes for him to see all my outfit.  He loved it.  Then he broke into a smile and finally outright laughing.  I looked at him askance.

“You want to be suuuch a bad girl but you’re not.  We talk and then I call you on your bad girl ways and you freeze up and start apologizing immediately. My good little bad girl.” He chuckled some more.  I began to smile.  He pegged me and I wasn’t really in trouble. The anxiety started to go away. 

He had me strip but leave the stilettos on. He sat on the bed and had me sit down on his cock. With my hands on his big chair to brace myself, I fucked him in that position.  Even with the stilettos on it works really well.  All I have to do is sit on his cock and ride him up and down.  Very nice.

He put the Hitachi on me and went down on me with such intensity.  I know he wanted to force an orgasm from me but I couldn’t get out of my head, out of the anxiety I had carried all day worried about him. He stopped everything and made me talk to him.  After a very long week, I needed time to reconnect with him.  I just couldn’t get into play that fast that night.

He gave me my birthday present.  It is a beautiful traveler’s easel and brushes. He said I write for him, I take care of him and everybody else, he wanted me to have something I will do for me.  He wants me to have time to think and paint. I love him so much.  He makes my heart swell and tears flow.  I wish I was in his arms right now.

The odd thing about this whole evening or about me, I guess, is that I hate that feeling of being in trouble but I love being put in that place of submission so harshly.  I ached for him to punish me and take out his frustrations upon my skin and psyche. I have wanted him to find that dark place again and unleash it.  That dynamic is what sends me to subspace after all. 

The problem was I felt so vulnerable in having displeased him that I think I worried him.  Daddys like to take care of their girls and he did what he thought was better for me then.  Daddy is always right. 

I did not like that I felt off.  I did not put myself in a proper headspace for play.  Jittery is not a good place to submit from.   I dressed for him but I did not prepare enough mentally for him.  I need to stop and breathe.  I need to be in the right place mentally for him and I wasn’t.  Lessons come all the time, I just need to pay attention.

Service

  
Service is a very important word for me. I was raised to be a helper for my mother. She ended up divorced and was not well equipped to handle single parenthood.  From a young age, I cared for others. I cared for my brother and my mom. Later, I cared for my husband and later still, my son. Having the concept of caring for others instilled so young, I do it now without at first being cognizant of it.

I used to feel resentful of my mother and having to care for a grown woman. It took me a long time and some growing up to forgive her for relying so heavily on me. I found forgiveness when I grew older and moved away. I learned how to be my own person and was able to see her more clearly. I found a deeper love for her then but that took years.

When my husband would ask more of me than I wanted to give I would feel that resentment again. I would mull over my feelings as I performed whatever duty he asked of me. After a while, I realized that I was the only one suffering from my resentment. I decided that I wasn’t going to say no to the request and so I should learn to like what I was doing and come up with a better reason for doing it than merely keeping the peace. Every time I was asked to do something, I chose to think of how I would feel if someone did that for me. I would feel so grateful. I would be in awe of them for helping me instead of saying no. I chose to be generous of my time. I chose a healthier path. By doing this, I began to see my place in life in a different way.

At work, I also began to change my style of management. I have always worked in business administration. In any business, there is the talent and there is support staff.  I read the book, The Servant, and realized that there was a whole management style built around how I naturally handled things. I began to see that in service I supported my staff. I served them by leading and they served the greater good of the company.

Finally, I found my way into the lifestyle. This is where my character truly found wings. I could serve others truly now. Without the veil of society upon me, I could strip away the façade and be the real me. I knelt at Mr. D’s feet for the first time and it felt so right. It felt like home. I choose to serve and in that service I submit to him and to his desire. I am laid bare as the servant that I am and long to be.

I no longer must hide my service in a veil of acceptable behavior. I can revel in my place at his feet. I can strive to be more than I am and also less. The striving for more is to strive to be all that he wants and desires in a slave. In some respects, I wish to be more than he wants for I know at times he would not demand as much of me as I’d like to give. It is natural for him to be dominant but not as natural to have someone be subservient to him. This is my gift. I wish him to feel so loved, so honored, so fulfilled by my service that he knows at his deepest core how worthy he is of that kind of love. When I say I want to strive to be less, I mean that I wish to put aside my self and my ego to be completely fulfilled within my service. This is not easy. This is the hardest part. Still, I want to explore that too.

Now in the lifestyle I have found a joy in service the wasn’t there before.  I seek for ways to please him and for ways to expand my thoughts on service.  This along with how he chooses to lead me will hopefully combine to bring our dynamic to a whole new level.

Image used with permission through CC3.0 with attribution by Marcus J. Ranum and found here.

Collaring

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My collaring was a simple and 
private matter between us. When we returned from the drive to purchase my collar, Mr. D sat in his big chair and had me sit on the bed in front of him. He put my collar in my hands. He said that this time, unlike the first occasion, he did not have a written contract prepared. He said this was new to both of us and that there would be rules and protocols as we went on but for now I must say anything I wanted or needed to say. Once this was done and I had accepted my collar, I would have no choice.

I held the collar and looked from him to the collar and back. He slumped down in his chair a little more. “I put you on the bed above me so that I would not be intimidating.” How can I not love such a man?

I thought about him and about us. I thought about the most recent stress he put himself through of a three hour round trip on a Friday evening to get the collar for me. I thought about why he was doing this…was it solely for me or did he want this too? I thought about everything and nothing at all. He continued to look at me…waiting. 

“I have absolutely no reservations in accepting this. I want this and I want you.” I’m pretty sure my voice shook a little. I felt nervous speaking. I handed him the collar. I lifted my hair and he tightened the collar around my neck. He made sure it was comfortable on me and that I could breath.

“Now, some rules.  You will choose a special word to mean your collar. When we’re with friends or relaxing and you hear this word you will know that you are to leave what you’re doing, go to the bedroom and put on your collar. You are to strip naked and present yourself for my pleasure.”
I nodded my understanding. 

“Dust.” I said. Our little joke of a feather duster and me dusting for him…that would be my word. He smiled.

The next day I still had my collar on. Even though it is almost tall enough to be a posture collar, I slept in it. I hadn’t wanted to take it off so soon. I felt really self conscious when I went out to the kitchen that morning. The roommates know about our lifestyle and two of them used to be in the lifestyle but they aren’t any longer. I felt very submissive because of the collar. They all said nice things but I really have no idea what they thought. Anyway, it is only between us. None of anyone else’s concern. It felt like I was wearing my heart outside of my body, I felt so vulnerable. It was very eye opening for me. I really and truly felt like his property for the first time.

The Bathroom Door

I arrived at Mr. D’s home and said hello to our friends on the way to his room. As a walked in his door, I knew something was up. Daddy was waiting for me at the foot of his bed.

“Drop your things by the door and take your clothes off right there.” I watched him carefully as I dropped my bags, closed the door and began to take off my clothes. Fortunately, I had something loose on for him so it was fairly easy to do. “Put this on and face the bathroom door.” He handed me the leather blindfold.

I put on the blindfold and stood in front of the closed bathroom door, nervous. His dominance was palpable. I wondered what I had done wrong or if he was simply feeling the darkness. “Arms up and hands on the door.” I obeyed and put my hands up on the door. “Legs spread.” I spread them and immediately felt his hand on my hip. His touch drifted around my thigh and up to my sex. His other hand gripped my hair and pulled my head back to his mouth. His lips burned a trail along my neck.

“Who are you?” He asked, his baritone rumbling through my body down to my toes.

“I’m your slut, Daddy.”
He whipped me with his small rubber whip. It is a small but deviously stingy device.

“That’s right, you are.” His hand tormented my sex again awakening my desire. “To whom do you belong?”

“You, Daddy.” I was panting. Talking was becoming decidedly more difficult as my mind slipped away under the power of his control. He spanked my ass in quick succession, one side then the other.

“Did you do your homework slut?” Think rabbit, think. Yes! Thank God, I did!

“Yes, Daddy. I did.” He paused. I wondered then if he expected me to fail. He must have. I was so happy I hadn’t failed him but damned if I didn’t ache for the punishment. Why did I do as told?

“You masturbated for me all three nights?” I nodded. Okay, maybe one night I had fallen asleep but I woke up in the early morning and finished. Hopefully, that counts. Three times is three times, dang it.

“Yes, Daddy.”

“And you used the pink plug one of the times?” 

“Yes Daddy, I used the pink plug.”

He hesitated, “Good girl.” I exhaled my relief. I can’t be a bad girl all the time, can I? If I never finish my tasks he’ll stop giving me any to do. “Kneel for me.”
I turned from the door and knelt in my place for him. My eyes drifted downward, my hands behind my back. I try to keep my eyes down but I always end up looking at him. I wonder at times if he wants my eyes downcast or not. I try. He approached me and leaned over until his face was near mine.

“What do you want slut?” What do I want? My mind was a blank. I wanted to serve him. I wanted to be whatever he wanted. But what do I want? I didn’t know how to answer. I was drifting in the sub realm and talking gets harder for me there.

His lips tormented my neck and his fingers tipped my head back. He knows how vulnerable this makes me feel. He does it on purpose. “I want to bite it.” I moaned and turned my head away to move his lips to the side of my neck. “Don’t you turn away from me.” The torment continued. 

“What do you want?”

“I want you Daddy.” Well, okay, that’s a given. I shook my head mentally at myself. He had me so wound up and off balance with the neck torture I couldn’t think straight.

“You have me baby girl. What do YOU want?” He was pushing me now.

“I want to suck your cock.” It was, after all, right there in front of me. His body was pressed up against mine so hard that I was being pushed backwards. It was all I could do to keep rigid and not fall over from the pressure.

“You do?” He paused, perhaps waiting to see if I came up with something more brilliant. My brilliance was in short supply. 

“Well, then, suck.” He leaned back and thrust his cock at me. I caught it in my lips as my hands were still cupped behind me. I sucked him into my mouth, moistening it as I pulled it deeper inside. I lavished my attentions on his member. I kept taking him deeper and deeper until his head was pushing deep into my throat. “Oh God, baby.” He moaned. That definitely told me I was doing well. It makes me so incredibly happy when I do something so right that he speaks out like that. I pulled back and tried again. Each time I took him a little more deeply. Finally, he grabbed the back of my head and held himself in my throat until I didn’t know if I could hold it any longer. Finally, he released me and I coughed from the need to breath.

At this point, I’ll be completely honest; I have too many options in my mind to continue the story. I remember him using rope one evening. Was it this evening? I’m not sure but I think so. What I do remember with blinding clarity is that Daddy used a different tactic with me on this night. Instead of allowing me to be my usual self or trying to get me to be verbal of my own accord…which does happen when he spins me up enough, he tried something different. He kept asking me questions. He verbally led me to talk dirty to him while he was taking me. In each position, at each pause, he asked me to describe what he was doing and how he was doing it. That was so hot. I never felt hung out on my own wondering if I made any sense. I just followed his lead and we verbally made love. I loved it.  

Too Long

It is too long between writings.  I feel the time stretch out like a taut rubber band.  I leave Mr. D’s side and go back to my professional single mom life.  I think about what I will write.  Life and child and work fill each day to overflowing. 

The band stretches further.  I long for Him.  I ache to write for Him.  I know the time is racing away.  I feel the vacancy.  It winds around me while I work, while I toil for others.  The absence of Him.  The absence of the me I am with Him.

The band reaches critical stretch.  I must choose.  Child and boss or Master and slave?  Each day I choose the child and the boss because they are my iminent responsibilities.  Though my heart chooses my Master in the longing I feel, the ache that is ever constant while I’m away.

The band splinters and breaks.  I am gone so long from Him.  The writing  is an empty page.  The days of caregiving are all there are in this world.  The fulfillment of Master and slave a distant photograph.

The slave bows her head.  She returns to her Master in shame.  She knows before He says it.  She drifted too far from His sphere.  She drowned in the sea of other cares.

His hand on her neck.  His touch so gentle, so loving and kind.  His words so vulnerable and clear.  “I need your words.  I need to know your thoughts.  I am not angry and you are not in trouble.  But you need to know how important your words are to me.” His breath warm, his touch a silken caress.

Her tears and sadness stained her face.  The pain filled her heart.  For she had disappointed Him. She felt it like a wound.  Deep inside she felt the pain but also joy. He loved her enough to tell her what she did wrong and how deeply He needed her, needed her words.

Why Slavery?

Mr. D and I talked after he tested me so absolutely. He said I’m so transparent and that it’s easy to push my buttons. I am sure it is. A woman doesn’t get sucked into a decades-long relationship with an alcoholic without having some level of gullibility. I know I’m an easy target, I always have been. Sometimes I think I’m better than I used to be but I guess not. Maybe there is a part of me that chooses to submit because if I’m going to be manipulated at least it will only be by one person and I had a choice in the matter. There is some power to submitting. You choose it. After that you just have to let go and trust the person to whom you gave the power.
I want to talk about the question, ‘why slavery?’ Isn’t it enough to choose to submit to someone and enjoy that dynamic? Yes, it is plenty. It is an undeniable gift that he allows me to be his submissive. We explore a dynamic that I always wanted but until now hadn’t had the opportunity to explore in real life. All the exploration I did online cemented in me the desire for this in the flesh. Mr. D is that flesh and blood personification of my desire to serve.

There are many reasons I want to take this further. The first is that I feel deeply that Mr. D deserves someone to give him the depths of service slavery offers. I don’t choose this lightly. I have known him for a year and four months. I love how he is as a person. He cares about the people in his life very deeply. He chooses friends that would do anything for him and he is willing to do anything in return. He is an instigator and loves to stir the pot to see what happens. He thrives on giving people what they want and sometimes what they truly need even when they didn’t ask. He is measured and careful in his execution of his skills and his dominance. When he wants to know about something or learn a skill, he is driven until he finds the knowledge he needs or learns the skill he requires. Even with his regimented ways learned in the Navy, he can still be tempted to act swiftly in the pursuit of his desires. I love that he has plans of what to do to me next. I equally love when I see him throw all that out the window because he was taken away in the heat of passion. I want to give him something no one else has. I want to honor the person that he is by offering all of me to him. When we talk about my service, he tells me it makes him uncomfortable sometimes. I can see that. We are used to people being equal, doing their own thing. Like me, Mr. D is a caregiver. To me, that makes it doubly more valuable that I serve him. He knows the level of effort it takes and he doesn’t take it for granted. The Daddy side of him is very strong. I am blessed to have a man care for me the way he does and allow the little girl side of me a safe place.
For my side, I want the level of intensity I think it will bring. I want to be fully dedicated to him and his desires. I love the feeling of having no choice; that I must serve. There is no backing out. There is no option of being timid. There is only him and his desires. There is only what he chooses and how he wishes me to be. I want to give him all of me and then more. If he wants to mind fuck me like he did the other night, I take it. I am his property, I have no choice. I must trust that he has a reason for what he does and if he doesn’t then we will both suffer the consequences. I know that is a lot to give to another person. It is a lot of responsibility to place at someone’s feet. All I can say is that a lot of joy comes with that responsibility. I would be his chattel, his slave. I would do all that he wishes with no out. I would sink to whatever twisted levels he desired, be his slut in every way. He would care for me like he cares for anything else of value in his life. I would be a prized possession. There is no taking each other for granted in this dynamic.

A long time ago a friend introduced me to the online Gorean lifestyle. This is a fictional series of books. The premise is very similar to Conan, the Barbarian. The men are warriors and the women are their slaves. Clearly, the fantasy part was just that. Many people love the harsh quality of the warrior life. It harkens back to a time when men were more masculine and women more feminine. There was no equality. Each sex was compartmentalized to a very narrow set of parameters. Modern life has much more depth and gray areas for both men and women. What I loved about playing Gorean roleplay was the level of femininity I was able to achieve and that the sense of slavery was very real. The entire community treated you as your role. You were expected to conform or reap the punishment which was very harsh. It gave me a very rigid box within which to perform. Because of this singlemindedness, I was freed from all the complexities of life for a while. I was merely female and slave. My aim was to be the most feminine personification of me possible for the pure enjoyment of those I served. It was an escape from the realities of life to be sure but it also allowed me to distill myself into a more pure form of service. I really enjoyed it. I would like to feel that same single-mindedness of service with Mr. D.

Will Mr. D choose to take the slavery I offer? I don’t know. Perhaps his idea of slavery is more than I can handle. I think he may have something very different in mind from my limited notions.  I certainly felt emotionally turned upside down the other night.   I think he has begun to train me. I felt his power over me increase exponentially. Does it scare me? Yes. Will that stop me in my pursuit of serving him? No. I wish to serve him and be his in any way he wishes. I won’t shy away from what is hard. Life has shown me plenty of hard and I’m still here and still asking for more. I’m certain there are lessons to be learned and things I want to experience. For now, I will be his and offer myself wholeheartedly. I love him. I’m his completely.