Thursday, November 27, 2008


I can't wait for the break; to stay with Master and be at his beck and call, in the way I haven't been able to while I've been studying.

I'm anxious because staying in him will mean either lying to my parents about my whereabouts or finally having the "I'm an adult, I can sleep over at my boyfriend's house whenever I want" confrontation. I dread both options. I hate to ruin my golden child status and to contribute unecassarily to their anxiety levels.

A huge part of this dilemma stems from trying to convince myself that I am an adult. I've been living away from home for 5 years, I make my own decisions--for the most part, good decisions, I'm financially responsible for myself, I'm on the verge of starting a career. Legally, logically, I'm an's just sometimes hard for the lost, little girl in me to come to terms with.

On the night of my last exam, I got annoyed--not angry, not tearful--just frustrated, when Master mentioned hypothetical plans of travelling without me in future summers. First and foremost, mention of all the fun, exciting things that I've never experienced and that I may never be able to experience because I am working or studying, antagonizes me to no end. On top of that, I thought he meant he wanted to travel with his friends instead of travelling with me (I later discovered he meant in addition to, and on seperate ocassions), so I got cranky. And when he didn't notice, or maybe refused to respond to my irritability, I grew even crankier.

It was such a small episode, and it could have completely passed without mention, but the scenario spurred a couple of realizations which are worth mentioning:

1. I can't help but be jealous of so many of my friends and peers--of Master--who have already travelled, seen amazing sites, experienced new and wonderful things, and have so many fond memories and fascinating stories. I wish I had more time to explore the world; to have fun.

I also can't help but look at the older generation of people I know, who define themselves by their careers and pour so much of themselves into work, that they never find the time or oppurtunity to enjoy life.

I want so much of the first part--of the new experiences, of the excitement of discovering what life can mean--and I dread, so greatly, this self-imposed slavery to work and drudgery.

I want a strike a delicate balance. I want to find meaning in my career, I want to love what I do...and I really do think I am entering a field that will bring me this fulfillment. I just don't want it to lead to structured, meticulously planned and boring life.

The key here, lies in a recentering of my values. Yes, I will be working in a busy job but I chose this path, and need to reconcile with myself that I may miss inevitably miss out on some experiences--but this is okay, if I am happy overall. I also need to realize that jsut because a job is busy doesn't mean that I won't still have time for vacations, and family, and friends and myself...I just need to make time for all of these things.

Most of all I shouldn't get pissed off at Master for wanting to live a good, well-rounded life. I shouldn't be jealous of oppurtunities that I'm afraid I won't get, I should be looking to, instead, create these oppurtunities and look forward to the bright aspects of the future.

2. Master's off-handed vacation remark spurred me to contemplate my ideals on maintaining identity within the context of I shall jot them down.

Couples need to spend time together. They need to grow in comfort so that they can do the ordinary, necassary activities of daily living, however, they also need to do fun, adventurous things to continue to build joy and enthusiasm to strengthen the relationship. I've noticed that older, long-term couples that don't travel, or event go out once in a while, are very dry...they have nothing to say to each other, there is no sense of novelty or passion in their relationship anymore. They seem to stay together for sheer comfort and companionship as opposed to relishing in the excitement of new discoveries or out of a legitimate enjoyment of their partner's company. For this reason, I do think it is important to spend time together in new experiences that create layers within a relationship and give you new things to talk and reminisce about.

I also believe in the convergence of lives and social circles, so that couples don't isolate themselves from society. I think that each partner should know the other's friends and family and be comfortable with them. We should be adaptable to each other's social circles, be able to go to other's events to support each other, and to meet new people and have an evolving social life.

That being said, while we need to have time together to get know each other better, and while we need integrate our lives...we also need time to explore our own ideas, hobbies, interests and our external friendships. I don't want to be closer or as close to Master's friends then he is, and while I want him to get along with my friends, I also value my girl-time. I've noticed that couples who do not have an outside social network tend to be less happy with each other and less fulfilled; their lives seem replete of excitement because they are over-exposed to each other. When there is no outlet, no space apart, it's hard to renew your appreciation for the person who is constantly invading your space.

Once again, it's all about balance. When I expressed my dissapointment about his travelling comment, Master said something like "'That's what a lot of women do; they stop their guys from doing anything they want." But that legitimately isn't the reason I was upset...I don't want to stifle him.

I don't believe in eroding another's identity. I don't think that's what a relationship should be. I think couples should complement each other, and bring out the best in each other. That's quite idealistic from me--a skeptic who scoffs that the idea of happily-ever-afters and starry-eyed bliss--but I think that major relationship pitfalls can be avoided when couples nurture each other's individuality. After all, if it's that individuality--that charming, quirky personality--that drew one to the other in the first place, what magic is possibly left when one robs the other of this fundamental component of attraction?

Anyway, I'm not entirely sure if this entry makes's late and I'm tired. I have a random workshop on domestic abuse tomorrow...should be interesting; I'm already certain that our relationship is devoid of any red flags.

Tuesday, November 25, 2008


I couldn't take the distance, so I jumped on a train. Now, I'm sitting at the table across from Master, we're checking our emails on our respective laptops, and he's grinning at me and still sending me limericks:

There once was a little freak show,
who gave me her very first blow,
but the problem with oral sex,
is her attrocious gag reflex,
which causes her to puke on the flo (or).

For the record, I've only thrown up on the floor once. The other time I threw was on him. I'm glad he can laugh about it. :p

Monday, November 24, 2008

Dear Newton, You Suck

It's the night before a big exam and I'm nervous, jittery (three cups of coffee working their magic) and incredibly frustrated.

I know that I am being irrational in wishing for the laws of physics to bend for me, but I really don't want the person I'm pushing on to push back. I just want him to force his way between my aggressively outstretched arms, and squeeze me hard...until I come to my senses, until I hug him back.

I need this caffeine to wear off soon so that I can get to sleep.

Sunday, November 23, 2008

Twenty-one days

My counterintuitive way of dealing with homesickness and missing the people who are dear to me, is to pretend they don't exist.

While I love my family, I barely talk to them when I'm away at school. When I stay uninvolved, I don't feel their absence. The minute I feel time pressure on friendships, I pushing friends away preemptively. It is easier for me not to miss them when I already feel detatched.

I always get worried about time apart from Master because of my lousy coping strategies for dealing with the pain. Surprisingly though, neither time or distance have been a problem so far.

While being apart from Master is hurts in a different and deeper way than being apart from my family or friends, I also feel like I am connected to him in a different and deeper way. While I sometimes feel very lonely when we do not see each other, I know in my heart that he is still very much my Master, and I very much his girl.

Saturday, November 22, 2008

Sonnet 18

Some impromptu poetry from Master; he sure knows how to woo a girl.

A Series of Improvised Limericks

There once was a girl named A,
Who was sometimes let out to go play,
with her Master, the cutie,
with a kickass rear booty,
Whose name begins with a J.

There once was a repressed, little whore,
who when she first walked through my door,
made my knees weak--
for what a beautiful geek!--
so I forced her to her back, on the floor.

Slave A is a fantastic date,
whose absence makes me masturbate,
about doing to her, kinky things,
She ended my many flings...
Could this be a working of fate?

There once was a cute, little lass,
who lacked all dignity and class,
until I took her over my knee,
and inflicted strokes, disciplinary,
before fucking her hard up her ass.

Thursday, November 20, 2008


From time to time, I'll remember something cute he did or something nice he said, and in those moments the corner of my lips turn up and my palpitations temporarily subside.

Wednesday, November 19, 2008

La Petite Mort

We have finally figured out how to make me come through clitoral stimulation.

In the days before Master, when I would masterbate, I found the most pleasure in heavy clitoral stimulation. I'd rub my clit fairly vigorously through underwear (direct stimulation was too overwhleming and too painful), and I'd always get to the point where the electricity would build and ripple through me until I got twitchy and squrimish. Shortly after, my pelvis would throb and I'd get scared and stop. After stopping, I felt good but not relieved. I'd masterbate multiple times a day in an attempt to relieve the tension, but continuously stopping pre-orgasm just exacerbated the frustration.

Only now, am I slowly learning that before the point where my clitoris becomes hypersensitive and my entire lower body starts to ache, I need to relax my pelvic muscles and and my legs and I will come. In fact, the last few times Master was playing with me, I came very quickly when I willed myself to relax. One of the times, I was lying down, which I think helps a fair bit. The other time, I was standing up, which made it harder to relax because of the tonic activation of all my leg and groin muscles. However, knowing what I had to do, I sort of let my knees give way and flop a little, and lo and behold, I came all over Master's hand.

It's pretty exciting. I actually didn't realize that female orgasms were associated with fluid...and this much of it! It's strange to me that I didn't know that my body could create and release all of this mysterious liquid. But it feels good. And when it happens, I actually feel relieved and entirely relaxed.

The problem is that I can't control this yet. I am supposed to ask permission before I come, but I the liquid gushes out even while I'm asking for permission. Master is being patient on this front, since he understands that this is all very new to me, and I don't really understand how my body works yet.

I should also add though, while coming is relief, I kind of like it when it I get to that painful point of stimulation and can't come and I'm just hurting. It's confusing but I enjoy the mixture of sensations.

Another orgasmic revelation includes the location of my G-spot. Sometimes Master will put his thumb in me, and press between the anterior wall of my pelvis with his other fingers. He'll move his thumb around and the combination of movement and pressure in that area feels really good. I'm assuming that's my G-spot, from the diagrams I've researched and because stimulation of that spot feels different, better, than stimulation of anywhere else inside. It's deeply pleasurable...not the quick, squirming, shooting pleasure of the clitoral rub...but something more flavourful and rich. I feel like it would take a long, long stimulation time however to orgasm via this mechanism, especially since it's only hit transiently during penile stimulation and only in certain positions; moreso when we're spooning or he's fucking me from behind, very rarely when I'm on my back.

I'm aware of the stats: 10% of women cannot experience orgasm in their lifetimes. Many women only begin to orgasm after their first pregnancy. Of those women who can acheive orgasm, only 1/3 can do so through intercourse. 2/3 of women require clitoral or other extra stimulation. (See Society of Obstetricians and Gynaecologists of Canada: So, I figure I'm pretty normal in this regard. I can do the clitoral thing, and maybe, one day we'll figure out the G-spot business.

I'm not concerned at all. Sex feels pleasurable...I like it a lot and I'm sure a lot of it is pyschological: I like Master on top of me, I like feeling close to him and that I belong to him. Penetration feels good for me too, just different from clitoral stimulation...but ultimately, I don't care if I don't orgasm during intercourse. I think I get enough pleasure knowing that Master is pleased.

Tuesday, November 11, 2008

Vine-Strangled Roses

Sometimes the male mind perplexes me. Sometimes I wonder why he says the things he does. It's not my place to censor or stifle him, nor do I want to: I want to hear his true thoughts. I want him to feel like he can tell me anything, without worry that I will be anything but supportive.

It's just, sometimes, I wonder about the rationale behind his words and why it is so easy for me to get hurt by them.

Monday, November 10, 2008

Pillows and Pistachios

“Am I not the greatest human being in the world? I took this nerdy little girl, transformed her into a beauty, awakened her sexuality…taught her how to bowl.”

I rolled my eyes. “Yes, Master,” I said, while lunging at him with a playful punch. He caught my arm and wrestled me into a head lock. When he released me at his side and kissed me, I smiled to myself.

Yes Master, I thought in my head, you are the greatest.

(For clarity: bowling is by no means a euphemism for something more sinister…we simply went bowling earlier in the day. Master winced with unreserved embarrassment as my ball deviated into the gutter time and time again.)


There is a girl whose journal I consistently read, who has fed my daydreams with graceful illustrations of her beautiful relationship.

“Your reality is my perfect fantasy,” I wrote to her once.

I used to devour her memories with a sense of ravenous longing, of waxing desperation.

My skin still prickles when I read her entries, but now, it's because her words reflect my own bliss.


The trees shrug off their leaves at the wind’s mildest flirtation. I see the lust trapped in their knotty eyes when they writhe under alternating light and heavy breaths. They flaunt their gold and blush in crimson, unaware that this coquetry will soon turn into merciless ravishment. Throughout the dark of winter, the wind’s frozen touch will turn their tears into icicles that cling to their naked branches.

I am inside, looking out, giddy in my knowledge that I am with a man who wraps a blanket--or better yet, his arms--around my shoulders, when coldness creeps into the room. When the air from the open window transforms in quality from refreshing to chilling, he calls for me at nighttime, and pulls me into his chest, where I can feel his warm sighs against my cheek.

Thursday, November 6, 2008


I jotted down “refill birth control prescription” on my list of things to do, and then I paused. I just started my sixth pack of birth control—that can't be right, I thought to myself, I can't have been on it for that long. But I scanned through the dates in this journal and the timeline is right.

Almost six months have passed. Looking back at beginning makes me wonder how we got from there to here.

I met Master at the end of my last school semester. I was stressed out about exams. I had just come out of a messy, drawn out fling that left me disappointed with myself. My close friends at school found themselves in relationships with fellow classmates and temporarily left me without social networks. My academics were concurrently dwindling; my two-year research project was rejected from a major journal. My priorities were all screwed up because I decided to start drinking and partying last year instead of engaging in my usual, wholesome pasttimes. In general, my entire work-life balance was skewed. Suddenly, for the first time in a long time, I didn’t feel very whole or very happy.

I knew that a relationship wouldn’t fill the gaps but I was looking for companionship, while I pieced everythings back together. It was getting progressively harder to meet singles my small school, so signed up for lavalife. I was skeptical about online dating, embarrassed, and in denial that I’d have to resort to it—I was, after all, young, attractive, fun. I had no trouble flirting, or picking up boys at bars...but I didn't want to do that. I wanted a real connection. I didn't necassarily think that looking through profiles during study breaks would do this for me, but there was a secret but deeply rooted hope that it would.

I had posted a sparse, picture-less profile on the normal relationships section. Then, just to see what kind of responses I’d get, put a kink-receptive profile one on the intimate encounters page. I was skeptical at the site’s prospect for vanilla dating, let alone anything D/s related but I thought it would be an interesting experiment anyway. I had long given up my search for a D/s relationship, stopped reading the forums, stopped reading the stories, relegated my desires only to the world of muted fantasies and nighttime explorations with my hands. I don’t know what possessed me to put that profile up, but for some reason, I saw a small glimmer of hope. Logic cautioned me but there was something deeper in me, something longing for mystique, and romance, and all my simultaneously wild, cruel, rough, sweet and tender fantasies to be realized.

I was only on the site for a few days, and talked to only a handful of people, when Master messaged me. It was a no-nonsense exchange. He told me his name, his profession and what he was looking for in a relationship. I was guarded, but we revealed our faces via webcams. I immediately thought he was very handsome. Just my type, actually. And that’s when the hope began to rise: good career, young, cute, interested in the type of relationship I have harboured in my fantasies. I was excited by the prospect.

Unfortunately, he was an asshole.

I asked him questions about himself, he’d answer them without elaborating, almost sounding defensive. He told me that he wasn’t lying and that he didn’t feel the need to prove himself to me. I asked him whether he wanted to know anything about me. He told me that he wasn’t interested in learning about me online, or even as just a person, but rather only wanted to get to know me as a sub. He was very set on getting down to business, and while the nature of the business did excite me, I didn’t feel like I could or even wanted to trust him.

“Be online tomorrow”, he told me at the end of that first conversation.

“I can’t,” I said, “I’m studying.”

“You better make time for your new Master.”

He was getting ahead of himself and I was outraged.

I googled his name, and read up on him, and searched his credentials to see if he was who he claimed to be. It was hard to find definitive information, but with his profession in mind, and because he was so darn cute, I decided that there would be no harm in talking to him some more. After all, I reminded myself that despite this small glimmer of hope, I needed to keep my original skepticism in mind; exams were my main priority and it didn’t ultimately matter if I didn’t find someone.

I talked to him again the next day on messenger, with our webcams on. He continued to disappoint me. He didn’t smile, and when I asked him if he would, he gave me this crooked, half-hearted smile, that resembled a smirk more than an interested show of friendliness. He seemed distracted, he kept looking over to the left (which I have since learned is the direction of the TV in relation to the computer) and seemed annoyed when I asked him what he was doing. I asked him more questions and while he answered them, he continued to be dismissive and told me that getting to know each other online was very pointless. I got defensive. I am a cautious person-- for me to even consider meeting someone online is a big deal and I wanted to develop a rapport before meeting anyone. I wanted him to acknowledge this and make me feel comfortable. He didn’t. He acted as though he was amazing, that I should take everything he said at face value and consider myself lucky to even be talking to him.

I thought then that he was probably a guy who just wanted to hit girls, to be served and pleasured, but who didn’t give a shit about the woman doing it. I thought then, that he would never respect me and this wouldn’t lead to the companionship that I was searching for. I argued with him, and told him his approach to online dating and trying to find a submissive girl was wrong and that he was too pretentious. He told me that I didn’t know anything about online dating and that I was really close-minded and probably very uneducated about dominance and submission. Then, he shut off the webcam, told me he had had enough and that this was not going to work.

Imagine—it could have ended there. None of this could have come to pass. I could still be a virgin. I could have picked up the pieces of my life, and rediscovered meaning in my work and still been single, but accepted it happily. But that didn’t happen. The glimmer of hope was still there. I blame his attractiveness for why I did what I did next.

I messaged him again. “Hey, I’m sorry. I don’t want to antagonize you…I just don’t understand your approach. Maybe you can explain it to me so I have some sense of where this is going.”


And he explained the outlines of his plan. Then, he gave me an assignment: find a submissive’s online journal, pick a few entries that intrigued me, and we would discuss it. We did this and suddenly, the lines of communication opened.

We started talking about D/s and fantasies, and integrating submission into reality, and about respect and understanding and companionship. He started asking me questions about mysef. Not a lot, but enough to get a global picture of who I was.

This progressed into little assignments over the next week, which started to include chats about our respective days and revelations of who we were. We are both writers. He asked me to write him a Dom/sub scenario and even though I was really stressed out about impending finals, I took time out of studying to write him a detailed story. It captured the feeling of what I wanted from this encounter. After he read it, he told me that was the exact type he was looking for too. We shared favourite poetry, he sent me some of his writing too. I have a huge soft spot for people who like to read and write; who see the beauty in words, who can appreciate poetry and imagery. He also gave me assignments to kneel daily, and take a picture to send to him. He comforted me as I studied, encouraged me, gave me fun tasks during study breaks...I started to look forward to talking to him. When we spoke on the phone for the first time, I grew immediately smitten with the sound of his voice. He can seem quite harsh online—and sometimes still does—but when I talk to him, I hear the sarcasm, and playfulness and the sweet intonations that are impossible to detect online. His voice is hard to describe, it's distinctively masculine--without being deep or echoeing or intimidating (though I've since learned, he definitely has a no-nonsense tone when he means bussiness). It’s charming, playful, soothing. I grew excited.

We decided that we would meet on the weekend about my finals were over. I had a lot planned for that weekend. A lot of my friends were graduating, there were lots of goodbye parties planned, I had family matters to attend to, an opera night planned. But I rearranged my schedule to fit everything in and still meet him.

That week, I was simultaneously nervous and excited. I wanted to see him in person, to touch his hand and see if he was real. Everything I had wanted for a long time, and then suppressed, was being dangled in front of me. I wanted to reach out and grab it, to taste it, to live the impossible.

I couldn’t sleep the night before our first date. I was exhausted. My social shuffling combined with exam-period sleep deprivation and just starting my period had turned me quite zombie-like. But the night before, he told me that he would have a calming effect and that he completely understood that I was not at my best and would take care of me. We met up, and he did.

And he still is. Sometimes it's hard to believe how we went from there to here. Now, he is my Master, the one that owns all of me: my breasts, my cunt, my ass, my heart.

Tuesday, November 4, 2008


I have no concerns to write about, since Master has addressed the imminent ones: anxiety about commutes and time management, worry that my schooling and career will divide us, fear of lack of integration of our separate lives. He visited me at school this weekend, and created solutions for the issues that were nagging at me. He is willing to be flexible for me, and this reassurance has been a tremendous relief for me. I don’t want him to lose him because he gets fed up with the time and effort he may have to invest in me.

In an ideal world, the submissive would make all the sacrifices for her Master…but we aren’t living in an ideal world. I have a career and a life that I’ve invested so much of myself in. I need a partner who is willing to integrate our lives and not expect me to drop mine to serve him. Master has never made any outrageous requests of me and--quite the opposite--has supported me and encouraged me to be well-rounded, and happy. His assurances about making school and our relationship work out has taken a huge weight off my chest. I’m so, so grateful to have someone so caring and understanding looking after me; I’m so, so, so thankful and happy that he is my Master.

In fact, he is so good to me that sometimes I worry that I am not doing the best I can for him. I don’t want to be constantly needy and asking for accommodation. I want fulfill Master’s desires, and serve him well and be the girl he needs and wants me to be. And I can only hope that he will tell me when he needs more from me, so that he doesn’t end up resenting me for being too much work.

I am going to sleep now. It feels a little less lonely retiring to my small bed now that Master has shared this space, slept between these sheets, kissed me under the canopy and held me close throughout the night.