Friday, March 27, 2009


I had an inappropriate emotional reaction last weekend. I am really embarrassed about it, but I will reflect on my behavior and explain my thought processes to Master.

The incident occurred while meeting Master’s best friend, X, for the first time. Master and X have been friends from childhood but they haven’t seen each other in a while. X has a wife: Y. We went out for dinner with X and Y, and then we went back to their place.

Y's conversations were centered around domestic life: the baby, family, the house, d├ęcor, organizing, cooking, cleaning etc. Whenever she mentioned some domestic task that she needed to attend to, Master would automatically chime and volunteer my services. Although he was joking, his persistent: “she’ll come over and clean for you whenever you want” really started to irritate me.

When Y noted that she hadn’t gone grocery shopping and didn’t have any food in the house, Master volunteered me to go with her to the store and help her pick up what she needed.

This is where I got really frustrated and worked up and my eyes started tearing up like a bratty, little child. Thank goodness no one but Master saw. He was, however, thoroughly perplexed by my reaction.

In retrospect, I know I overreacted, but for sake of explanation here are three reasons why this incident upset me so much:

1. I was annoyed by Master’s offering of my domestic services. My first thoughts jumped how he had 'no right' to do that; to offer me out to others, to reduce me to a maid. I felt devalued, embarrassed.
It took me a few breaths to regain my composure and evaluate the situation. I was upset at the time, but I later realized that I was overreacting. I have trouble obeying orders when they don’t align with my desires. However, I do realize that being an owned woman, means doing what Master wants. It’s easy when his commands are sexual in nature, or if I get gratification from a task; it’s harder when tasks are uncomfortable or inconvenient. However, as a submissive, I should not be allowed to pick and chose what I want to obey. Belonging to him means doing whatever he wants, even if I’m not thrilled about it.

Beyond this, I should be thrilled to serve him and obey him. Master is very good to me, and makes a lot of sacrifices and compromises for me. Even without the D/s dynamic, just within the context of a loving, vanilla relationship, I should be giving back to him with an open heart. I love him and a lot and want to please him, but to do that I must stop being self-centered and think more about serving him.

2. Alongside anger, I was upset by the fact that Master was sending me away from him. Prior to his offer of my assistance, I was sitting by his side. He was chatting to X, I was chatting to Y. I wasn’t interrupting his conversation, or being a nuisance. And yet, despite promises to keep me close that weekend (see previous post) he was very quick to dismiss me. Being in a particularly needy mood, this really upset me.

Later, when I looked at the situation from Y’s and Master’s point of views, I realized once again that I was in the wrong.

Y needed to get a few things from the grocery store. It would have been very rude of us to all stay behind, and let her go by herself. It would have made her feel isolated and, had I been in her shoes, I would have been annoyed. I was in a very selfish mood and wanted to stay close to Master but I should have actually volunteered myself—like a polite, well-mannered girl—instead of being told by Master. I was so focused on my need to cling to Master that my basic etiquette disappeared.

From Master’s perspective, Master and X hadn’t seen each other in a long time. If I had been thinking about Master’s needs, I would have realized that he might want some time to just chat with X. Going out to the store gave them the perfect opportunity to bond, while I bonded with Y. I realize that I should not cling to Master in order to fulfill my own need for attention, and that I should take more time to consider the needs of others.

3. I was frustrated about the concept of the men staying behind, and chatting, and relaxing, and watching sports while the women had to go out—baby in tow!—and do the domestic stuff. Master and X could have insisted that Y should just stay and relax, and that the groceries weren’t important at this very moment. Instead, they seemed perfectly happy with sending us on our way. I hate the idea of being relegated to women’s work. I also got a little freaked out by a hypothetical glimpse at our future: Master reclining on a chair, watching TV…perfectly oblivious to me as I fussed over a baby, and cleaned the house. Ugh. The imagery makes my skin crawl.

Anyway, I got over this one just by talking to Master and hearing him reaffirm his belief system about domestic life, reaffirming that he wants to be an involved husband and father. I have to realize that ordering me to do isolated domestic task does not mean that he will one day trap me in the house and refuse to let me do anything by cook, clean and have his babies.

I have to remember that there is a reason why Master and I get along so well; and it’s because we have similar core beliefs. I have to remember that the reason why I’m still submitting to him, is because I trust him to make good decisions for us and to act in our best interests. And it is in neither of our best interests to relegate me to the world of traditional women’s work and stop me from having a life beyond the home.


After we left X and Y’s place, Master asked me why I had gotten upset—asked me if he had said something inconsiderate. While Master’s words made me upset and frustrated, he was not in the wrong. It was me who was being hypersensitive and inconsiderate. I love him for not getting upset at me, for trying to tease out the reasoning behind my reaction, for wanting to make things better.

I love him an awful lot, so much that my heart swells just thinking of him. I am so ready to get back to serving him properly.

Thursday, March 26, 2009


He often refers to sex with me as “taking me” or “having me”. Poetry, without euphemism. And I can’t help but love something as subtle as his diction.


Last weekend I was emotional, clingy, needy.

On Friday night, after a long week of studying, Master brought me to his place for the weekend.
It was late when we got in and after I had changed into my slip and cuffs and collar, I found him lying in bed, on his stomach, with his eyes closed. Without even looking up, he instructed me to give him a massage. There was nothing unusual about his request, but on that night, he may as well have locked me away in a cupboard. I was crushed by his decision.

I knelt up on the bed and as I glided my hands over the oil-slathered muscles, I chastised myself in my head. I had no right to be so disappointed just because he didn’t feel like hugging, or kissing, or petting me at the moment. I had no right to be disappointed because he wanted to relax and wanted me to serve him.

I kissed his body, and worked my hands down his calves, but when I came to the soles of his feet, I just felt so far away from him and tears welled up in my eyes. I tried to blink them back, so that he wouldn’t see me being so silly or selfish. But even though his head was down, and my back was turned to him, and my tears were silent, he still sensed that something was wrong.

He turned on his side, and called me to sit by him. I looked away, embarrassed by my outburst. He pulled me down onto my back, and climbed on top of me. At first he held me, and I wrapped my arms around him as he kissed my cheeks and eyelids. Then, he put one hand around my neck and with his other hand, slapped me. The blow was not terrible, but it was unexpected, and I cried more.

“I can do what I want with you,” he told me.

“Yes Master,” I squeaked, although I wished—in my heart—for him to stop hurting me.

He attempted to fuck me—which told me a lot about his sexual need at the moment—since he is usually extremely reluctant to have sex when I’m on my period. But between my period, and a lingering yeast infection, I tensed up as he tried to push his cock inside of me.

“Relax your legs,” he said, as he pushed my raised knees down. I tried, but when he pushed himself in again, I howled and clenched all my muscles.

“Relax,” he repeated, his voice now low and growling, “relax your legs now.”

But this was now deep, real, visceral pain and my silent tears became choking, breathy sobs. “It hurts Master, I’m sorry, it hurts so much.”

“I’m going to have you,” he said, “and you'll stop complaining and take it.”

He made a motion to drive his cock into me again, but all of a sudden, as if some unforseen force had jerked him back, he stopped. In the pause, the snarl on his face slowly disappeared and he unclenched his fists and composed himself. “No, I’m not,” he said, “Not when it’s hurting you this badly.”

He went to the bathroom to clean up, leaving me spread out on the bed. When he came back, he scooped me up in his arms.

“I’m so sorry, Master.”

He kissed my forehead. We lay together for a few minutes, before he responded. “I think it would be a good idea for me to be strict with you this weekend; you are stressed and I think it will give you some release.”

In retrospect, I can see how it was a good thought, but at the time, my eyes widened and the reluctance showed in my voice, even though I responded with: “Whatever you want, Master.”

We were both quiet.

“Hmm,” he said, after evaluating the situation. “I have a better idea.” He got up and brought back a short length of white, nylon rope. “I’ll tie you to me; so you’ll never be more than a couple of feet away from me this weekend.”

I smiled and gigled, as he tied the rope to my wrist cuff and then to him.

“Thank you Master,” I said and kissed his hands, before we fell asleep, curled and bound together.


There are a few points I want to make, related to the above story:

  • Later on in the weekend, I felt like my period was lightening up and my vagina was generally feeling better, so asked Master if he would fuck me. He said no—just in case it was still too painful. He explained to me that it took a lot of willpower for him to stop, when he is already inside me. “The testosterone makes me even more aggressive,” he explained, “and it makes me want to just shut you up and show you who’s boss.” I didn’t fully appreciate the amount of willpower it took for him to withdraw when I was in pain, the willpower it took for him to comfort me instead of finding another means of indulging himself. His self-control astounds and awes me—especially since I acted exactly the opposite; giving in to my rampant hormones and emotion.

  • In retrospect, typing up the above anecdote (up until the painful part) and his little statement about wanting to shut me up and show me who’s boss, really aroused me. I think feeling physically unwell at the time really amplified my negative emotional response. I can’t wait for this studying crunch time to be over and my maladies to resolve, so that I can focus on him and he can focus on using me in whatever way he sees fit. I want him to be strict with me, and put me in my place, and hit me when I’m bad, and hit me even when I’m not, and shut me up when I whine. I want him to objectify me, and use me, and parade me around like a toy. I want him to be the one to make me cry. I want to be on my knees until they ache, wear the nipple clamps in public, dress scandalously, dress and act as his slave publicly, do everything and anything he wants, serve him endlessly. And I know that I will have moments of crankiness, and aversion to pain or humiliation or domestic tasks, but I want him to hold me to me duties and remind me of my place. He is a amazing Master, an incredible man, the love of my life, and he deserves nothing less.

  • I was sure I had a third point when I started this. I tend to cluster things in threes because I’m anal retentive. Even though, I can’t remember what I was going to say, I'm leaving this completely unnecessary third paragraph here for aesthetic purposes.

Thursday, March 19, 2009


I suspect the next month’s posts will be majorly composed of uninteresting writing. I apologize for anyone who happens to be following this journal; while things are going splendidly with Master, I just don’t have the energy to transcribe it all. One quick point:

He came to visit me at home after I spent the whole day studying. We retreated to my bedroom and I sucked his cock, while trying to block out the chatter of my family downstairs and the fear of somehow being “checked up on”. I know that it’s not ideal that I’m staying at my parent’s house, or that I’m spending my break studying and not with him.

But, after he came, he pulled me up from my knees and kissed me.

“You aren’t taking from me,” he said to me, in reference to my last journal post, “I am giving to you and I’m happy to do it. You don’t have to worry about upsetting me. I love you and am happy with the way things are with us.”

I wrapped my arms around his waist and squeezed him hard. He squeezed me even harder and we swayed back and forth in our tightening grips, until our arm muscles pulsed and gave out.

Monday, March 16, 2009


Too tired to synthesize full paragraphs:

Home for a week
- preemptive fear of explosive arguements
- surprising twist: parents seem to have accepted the fact that I am an adult
- atmosphere surprisingly normal, relaxed, low stress
- immense sense of relief
- normal, rational convos with parents
- acceptance of Master and my South Africa trip this summer (good, I can start getting excited)
- acceptance, even (dare I say) excitement (?) re: our proposal/marriage timeline
- even greater sense of relief

Random ailments
- Stress, bad night time nausea and stomach pains
- lack of sleep
- general fatigue, feelings of crappiness
- today, also vaginal itching and stinging with peeing
- Master playing with me worsens itching/burning/pain
- On inspection, Master notes bumps, redness, white discharge
- yeast infection
- I am annoyed and cranky

- I am needy and whiny and bratty
- not feeling very submissive at all
- simultaneously feeling guilty
- feel like recently, I've just been taking and taking from him
- realize more and more how amazing Master is to me
- feel even guiltier for being so useless

Time to sleep. Slight fever, exhausted

Wednesday, March 11, 2009

Paradigm Shift

Uncertainty makes me uncomfortable. I hate games where the risk of winning or losing is based on chance alone and I can’t do anything to modify the outcome. For me, uncertainty is anxiety.

For a long time I saw my relationship with Master as a source of uncertainty because I did not know how it would fare through hard or busy times.

Now, I realize that this perception is skewed. The sustainability of our relationship is not based on chance alone—and while it may be influenced by external circumstances—its success is predominantly based on the effort invested by both parties. Since we are both committed to each other, I am now realizing that our relationship should not be viewed a source of uncertainty but rather, a source of stability and comfort.

I am constantly surprised—pleasantly surprised—at the dynamic nature of this thing called love.

Wednesday, March 4, 2009

Healing Touch

Every touch between us is special and beautiful, but my favourite, is his kiss on my forehead. There is nothing that makes me feel so safe and secure--so completely protected--as this gesture of tenderness.

I also love when he runs a hand down my back to comfort me; it may seem minute, but this small action is immensely soothing to me. One night last weekend, I was thrashing around in bed because I couldn’t sleep. Apparently I was whining and talking nonsense—which I don’t remember. What I do remember, however, is the gentle motion of his hand along my back to calm me down.

There are so many touches between us; the rough touches of play, bear hugs, playful touches and tickles and even headlocks, loving touches of arms wrapped together, palms touching, fingers locked. Beyond the flesh wrapped around flesh, there’s the touch of lips and tongues, and the variant pressures of lying together, over each other. It’s all so wonderful, all so good. But it’s easier to remember and pay tribute the strong and unyielding sensations: the grip of his hands around my wrist and neck, his hand fisted in my hair and fingers gliding over sensitive areas, bringing moans of pleasure. Its easier to take for granted all the other touches that bind me to him.

It’s easier to miss the gentle brush across my cheek, or his arm around my waist, his hand running down my back, his lips upon my forehead. So now, I want to honour all the little touches that I delight in; those little touches, which show that I belong to him in so many ways and contexts and senses.