Friday, August 19, 2016

Another "great" Blogger WTF

I'm not sure if others have noticed that when they redid the format of the followers widget it seems they have disconnected our blogger profile from our standard google profile...

Which seems to mean if you follow, people can't click on your profile and see your info, it just displays a list of blogs you follow.

If you post a comment from your blogger profile they can get to your normal blogger profile by clicking on your name, but any blogs you have started following since then don't seem to be showing up.

Kind of a pain in the ass.  I have come across a good number of blogs by finding links when the authors followed me... now that option is gone.

Back in Form

There are times when I'm worried about what I post because a lot of what I write probably makes me seem unstable.  Then I realize I've already written pretty thoroughly about a number of the worst things that have ever happened to me and I figure what the hell.

(It is probably obvious that) My current obsession is writing.  As with the way my craziness works I get emotionally disheveled when events happen in life that block me from my obsession.  In this case, things that prevent me from reaching a mindset conducive to writing unnerve me... in a way that I can only describe as "life feels wrong" and a desperate and frantic feeling to bring it back to feeling right.

I do want to put it out there that I appear and function quite normally in the world even if everything inside of me is spiraling in a bad way.  It probably seems like it carries a lot of gravity when I write about it... but that's mostly from the fact that it's a breakdown of my coping mechanisms and/or realizing my support system has shifted in an unpleasant way.

I have to say it's rather irritating being able to step back and watch everything eating me on the inside with a full understanding of what is going on but not being able to do anything about it.  Within D/s dynamics I can channel all of that energy into service.  Without it I'm left spinning as I do my best to find my way out.  

On the upside I have managed to get a hold on the emotional spiral I was in for a few days and hope to get back to working on part 51 of fs01 very soon.

On a side note, I will be delaying the milestone drawing for a while... I started working on it last week and I'm just not feeling it.  Considered it delayed but not canceled. 

Wednesday, August 17, 2016

Intensity and Effort

Yesterday some things happened that managed to trigger an emotional spiral.  Some unintentional events woke the demons and put me into a bad state that is beyond my rational control.  I can't help but be a little bit upset with myself as I feel the spiral of self-defeat.  I will keep writing to try and keep my thoughts and feelings open rather than bury them while I try to mend what is going on.

I've been called a lot of things over the years but one description that I don't think has ever been used is carefree.  I tend to have a very intense personality.  I am excited about what interests me.  It consumes my thoughts.  I wish to share it with those I am close to.  This is often contagious and I often find I can get other people excited about those same things... I can sell its merits... show them the reasons and intricacies behind my interests.

This blog makes things a little hard since it is not something I will share with those I know.  Even those who know of its existence... I tell them that this is my place that I need to be able to center myself.  The people who are here made an effort to be here and took the dime to dig in. 

Behind the intensity is my effort.  When I decide to do something, I try my hardest.  I'm not one of those people that talks about "oh, when I get around to it...".  I blast into things... full speed... balls to the wall... this is what I want to do and I will be the best at it.  I never do things half way.  This was something that K noticed from the start.  I didn't need training.  She was able to ramp up the micro-managing in rules like a game of "Simon Says" where I could go round after round without missing a beat.  Meticulous and precise with details... always displaying attention and awareness... always learning... looking for ways to improve. 

I look at my performance in whatever I do as a reflection of who I am.  I don't half-ass things or scrape by with "just enough."  When I see people that won't put in effort or consistently do the bare minimum, I tend to think they will half-ass most things.  I don't want people to think that about me.  I want to appear perfect and with the work ethic and dedication to make that so.  I want to exceed expectations by such a margin that they have to completely rebuild how they go about making expectations.  Raise the bar, I'll be fine.  Keep raising it, I'll be fine.  It's what I do. 

In a lot of ways this contributes to the intensity of what I crave in submission.  Throw the kitchen sink at me and I'll catch it.  I actually get disappointed when this doesn't happen... because I fear that it means they are seeing me as less than what I could be.  I do not respond well to kindness unless it includes a stipulation that it is a gift.  I acknowledge that it's probably dangerous for me to be wired this way since it's easy to get too deep.  It's also potentially confusing to balance kindness vs. intimacy as they are distinctly different things.  I need the intimacy... but kindness is optional. 

All of this has become such a part of my identity that I can't picture myself without it.  I know that it rose from my methods of coping.  This became who I am out of fear that I will be too little... lesser... unworthy.  I would accept it as purely a positive if it didn't carry with it the shadow of demons.  I do try to see it as a positive.  I strive to continually improve.  It reflects well on me in relationships, friendships, work, sport, hobbies, etc.  I want people to see anything that I do and see a reflection of excellence. 

In the moment I see this as self-motivation.  In the bigger picture I recognize it rooted in fear.  Is that a bad thing? 

The intensity also cuts both ways.  When I am knocked off balance emotionally the hurt swirls in with the same level of intensity that I display in other things. 

I have also found that the perception of my intensity isn't always seen as a positive.  I've been rejected by some for exactly the same reason that I am drawn to others.  This keeps me questioning myself and never quite able to settle in with embracing myself fully. 

Tuesday, August 16, 2016

The Quest for Emotional Control

Yesterday I wrote about coping.  I see coping as my means of dealing with feelings after they have arrived.

I often feel like my coping methods took a rather elaborate route over time.  In reality they are due to lack of emotional control.

Emotional response is fascinating because what I have found is that while we are able to control where we direct the emotions, I feel like I have very little control over the intensity of said emotions.

To illustrate what I am talking about with an easy example you can think about an experience where someone deeply hurts your feelings.  People have varying routes on how to channel this.

-Defensive.  You can get angry.  Rage.  Put up the emotional barriers and lash out.  No one will hurt me. 

-Internalize.  You can be stoic.  Put on a neutral or even happy face.  Keep your guard up.  Show nothing.  The pain stays inside slowly eating away at you.  If left unchecked/unvented it will eventually become a major problem.

-Time-release.  At the twinge of reaction you can attempt to process this.  Do it slowly and rationally.  Put out feelers to make sure you interpreted it correctly.  The magnitude of the hurt sets in bit by bit over a period of time.  At the end it feels just as bad but there was no monster KO punch... you got taken down by a series of jabs. 

-Sadness.  It hurts.  You feel it, you express it.  Pain in its natural form.  This is often the hardest to do because it involves those present to see your vulnerability.

-Self-Defeat.  This is probably the worst possible way I can think of dealing with hurt but it is my default when it relates to my demons.  It feels deserved.  I claim responsibility for it.  It's my fault.  I always seem to make this mistake.  I bury myself in a spiral of the original pain and the secondary pain caused by heaping the blame upon myself.  This is reserved for those special kind of hurts that rattle the deepest insecurities of my being.

-Detachment.  To me this is the least desirable method to choose... but also the one most strongly rooted in survival.  Shut down... distract... feel nothing... feel numb... look at everything but that.  This is my natural choice when I will have to deal with people and care about what they think of me.  Similar to internalizing, this has a tendency to eventually fill up and boil over, causing the full weight of the stored feelings to hit all at once.

-Rely on confidence.  This is the method I am worst at because there are limited situations where I actually feel like I can use this.  This requires a strong sense of self and an understanding of what is important.  If hurt is brought on by people that are unimportant and/or words that I know aren't true, they can eat a dick because their words don't matter.  This is mostly applicable with strangers and less so with people who we actually care about.

There are probably more ways to deal with this.  Every time something affects my heart I seem to see myself at a cross-roads where a handful of these methods are my choices.  I have a split second to decide how and in what way this will hurt.  I would say that I try to make a "wise choice that I won't regret" when faced with it... but that would be a lie.  It's like ordering a shit sandwich and getting hung up on what type of bread I want to eat it on.  I suppose I usually choose the path that I think I am most likely to be able to handle at that given time.

I've never really considered myself to be the most emotionally stable person even though many people have leaned on me for support over the years.  I have to wonder if other people have discovered an actual method of emotional control instead of just flipping a switch and deciding which track you want to send it down.  Another observation that I have developed over time is that I don't think that the majority of people are aware that there is a miniscule time-frame in which they can choose how to react.  I know that most people who explode with rage never seem to teeter between rage vs. crying before they fly off the handle.  Is this just a myth that I wish to actually be able to control my emotions as they come in instead of merely controlling how I allow myself to feel them?

I am still wanting to finalize my The ____________ submissive archetype.  I know that this type in particular (as well as some others that experience very deep levels of subspace) tend to react with self-defeat when they experience hurt in a D/s environment.  Unfortunately self-defeat has such a way of looping upon itself that an actual punishment and atonement are often needed to free the sub from this cycle.  Odd stuff.

The Evolution of Coping

Over the past three months I have revealed more about myself on this blog than I would have ever imagined possible in years past. 

As I seem to have laid out the bulk of my psychological damage and some of the perceived roots of my depression I feel like I've only touched on the means I use at coping with these things.  I think the skills and methods we develop for coping become incredibly important in D/s as well since a lifestyle sub will inevitably face an ever-evolving system of dynamics that will force them to continuously sacrifice freedoms.  I believe their ability to cope directly influences their ability to thrive in such a lifestyle.

When I talk about demons, I generally refer to events or memories that occurred in the past that still manage to influence my life, thoughts, or feelings in a negative way.  Not good enough.  Unlovable.  Worthless.  Terrible.  My rational mind knows that I am good enough, that I am lovable, that I am worthwhile, and that I am not (always) terrible.  The demons manage to have a stranglehold on my soul and have punched holes that remain open... while they can be filled temporarily, I'm always aware of those holes... and if the temporary fills are gone, the pain comes rushing back.

My earliest means of coping with rejection was to just do the best that I could.  Meet every expectation.  Be excellent.  Be perfect.  Exceed expectations.  I managed to do this in many ways and it was the way that I was still rejected that led to the evolution of my coping skills.  After a brief foray into attempting to silence the demons, my next method was to compensate... and then over-compensate.

I know people that believe it is impossible for someone to truly change.  I disagree with this sentiment as change became something I performed regularly.  It starts with an ideal and a vision of how to actualize this ideal.  By analyzing our actions, first in hindsight, then in real-time, and finally with foresight, we can in fact compare how we currently act vs. what our ideal form would act.  With careful monitoring of our behavior and impulses, it is possible to slowly change ourselves to a more ideal form.  At first it might seem like acting, but if the desire to change is genuine it is very possible.  After a while, the reactions become natural.  The thought process before the actions becomes automatic.  e.g. You no longer have to imagine what an unselfish person would do, you already think like someone that is unselfish. 

I looked at myself in a brutally honest way.  I was an asshole and fairly narcissistic.  I didn't value others as equals... I saw myself as being the most important thing in my world.  I understood why I had very few friends.  These were the defenses I had built up in order to make living with the holes in my soul bearable.  It took me a year to reverse this course and I didn't just return myself to a neutral state... I kept going until I was a generous person who thought about the needs of others first, I learned to listen rather than speak, my impulse was to build people up rather than tear them down.  I had a track record of being a jerk and I had everything else that I hated about myself... zeroing the scales wasn't enough... I felt the need to compensate for my inadequacies.  

As my process progressed and behaviors became natural, people began to notice.  People began approaching me.  They wanted to be around me.  They trusted and confided in me.  My friendships were deep and genuine.  The only traces of my old me was my sarcasm and quick tongue when it came to joking around among friends. 

This wasn't enough for me to overcome the demons or find the peace in my soul I was searching for.  The next step was to over-compensate.  I wasn't content with being a good guy, I wanted to be a great guy.  I wanted to be the type of person that other people said "wow, he's a great guy."  I wanted to be the person that other people knew they could depend on when the chips were down.  I wanted to be that guy that people included in their short list of closest friends.  Need someone to watch your back?  I'm there.  Need someone to cover for you?  I'm there.  This guy fucking with you?  Let's kick his ass. 

This worked in many ways.  I had a lot of friends.  While there were some acquaintances, I had a LOT of people I could count on and trust.  My parents threw a surprise party for my 17th birthday and 105 people showed up.  I grew in self-confidence.  My self-esteem remained checkered.  I couldn't find love.  I felt ugly.  I began to over-compensate even more.  I began to open up a bit more emotionally.  I found I was actually an empath.  I became the sensitive guy that women would confide in.  I was the shoulder to cry on, the one that could be called at any time day or night to be there... but I was still alone in the end.

I continued to over-compensate.  By the time I was 20, my primary goal was to become someone who could make a woman happy... be everything to her.  I became someone who could look into the heart of others and understand what they needed to be happy.  I did not use this ability lightly.  I wouldn't flirt with it, I wouldn't exploit it.  I reserved it for the one I loved that would love me back.  It still wasn't enough.

I attended a few different colleges so very few people were aware of the process I was going through.  Each time I started new it was as if this is who I had always been.  I was never able to make myself great enough... to be loved... or to overcome the demons. 

In my mind I'm still always on my evolving journey of over-compensation.... still continuously looking for ways to better myself as a friend and lover... and search for ways to make other people happy.  I have been taken advantage by people many times over the years... but I never let that deter me.  I still invest heavily in the people I choose as my friends and try to be amazing. 

It was K who first spotted this desire in me... and saw that I would excel through submission.  She was the first to truly patch up one of the holes in my soul.  Little did I know that D/s would also serve a role in that as well.

The second largest battle I've faced with coping is depression.  I first started battling depression at age 5 and it has factored heavily into my life for 30+ years.  My depression is heavily influenced by the strength of my demons.  When things are going well, the demons have little if any power.  If things go south or the temporary fillings become unstable, it is common for me to go spiraling into a very dark place where the demons constantly enter my thoughts in a bad way.  Originally I had no means to cope with things when they got bad... I merely wanted to die.  Numbing and escapism gave temporary respite, but it always tumbled back when I would sober up or the movie would end, and so on.  To be honest, I probably should have been medicated for the majority of my life.  I chose to avoid that route and in the process found another progression of coping.

My first coping method was obsession.  This is heavily at the root of my "nerding out."  I find something... and it becomes what I care about.  I learn all about it... I master it... I become an authority on it.  The obsession can be about many different things.  I found a new author... I'll go get every book they ever wrote and read them all.  I find a director I like... I'll go get every movie they ever directed and watch them all.  I find a TV serial drama I like... I'll go get every box set and marathon it all the way through.  A new type of Video player comes out... I'll research every known generation and style before picking the best one.  I'll decide I want to learn to cook Japanese food and I'll learn a ton of recipes and techniques.  I'll decide I want to work out and start exercising 7-days a week.  This is what I do... I find something to immerse in and plow into it full force until I have mastered everything about it. 

In turn, once I have mastered it, I find the need to share those things with the people I am close to.  I am able to show them what I find special and use that to strengthen the bond between us.  This is a strong positive.  Another positive is that it occupies my mind.  I have no time to worry about the demons... I'm too busy trying to find a good condition used copy of season 7 on DVD for under $10.  It gives me a sense of purpose that I can relentlessly pursue.

The downside... is that this closely resembles a hypomania of a bipolar cycle (I am not bipolar). Some of these obsessions aren't cheap (others are).   I am a wise enough buyer to only pay a "good price" for items purchased during my obsession, since I know I may want to liquidate it back into cash at a later date after the obsession has passed.  Because of this I am extremely careful not to make horribly unwise decisions... just borderline unwise ones (I am usually in a position to break even or make a profit). 

I'm well-versed enough in the early feelings of my depression that I can spot it when it's about two-months away.  The first feelings brew up in my chest... a few impulses pop into my brain and I see it clear as day.  The iceberg in the distance.  I begin reaching out in an attempt to solidify a support system that will carry me through okay.  As I got older this became harder and harder to achieve as people get busy with their lives and they just don't have time for people that aren't immediate family.  When it works, this is the healthier option but more often than not it falls apart.

In these cases I will forcibly induce an obsessive state.  I will scour until I find something to become my new obsession and off I go, knowing I will be okay for its duration and hopefully either a) find my said support system or b) track down my next obsession to be waiting in the wings.  Once I start reaching the end goal of the obsession is when I start getting worried.  I can tell I will crash once I reach the end.  If I haven't succeeded in finding (a) or (b) I end up plunging in... crashing straight into the iceberg I saw from months away but could do nothing to avoid... only prolong.

The craziest thing is that the coping methods I developed for dealing with the demons and the primary coping method I use to stave off depression ended up becoming idealized for the D/s lifestyle.  I can willingly shape myself into the form that is ideal for pleasing her.  I will be perfect for her.  I will meet and surpass her expectations.  All of this is natural.  I can zone in on submission as my obsession, always seeking new and better techniques or mindsets.  I drive full on at becoming the perfect sub.  As long as the D/s dynamic is in place, there is always enough on my mind to keep myself from feeling the pull of the demons or crashing.  It is a very blissful state for me, full of purpose, and it's odd that everything I have done seems to play very well into thriving in this type of lifestyle.

Unfortunately... D/s isn't always present for me.  With F it was a couple of days a week.  With T it no longer exists.  It is in these times that I still have to worry after the crash.  This led to the last evolution in my ability to cope.  I hope at some point I can take this even farther but this is the current state of me.

The hardest part of daily existence in depression is to be able to spot which feelings are real and which ones are caused by or magnified by a chemical imbalance.  If your beloved pet dies you should be sad.  If the pet dies and you want to die because of all the things you could have done better with it, that is depression.   It's bad depression when you want to die because of all the things you could have done better with a pet that died 10 years ago.

I have become accustomed to spotting the difference and brushing off the fake feelings and centering myself around the real ones.  When the fake feelings pop up with tremendous frequency... life can start to feel crappy.  This is what led me to my final means of coping.  I live day by day.

When I know that I'm in deep I have one goal:  To experience joy daily.  I can't think about tomorrow, so what will I do today?  I want to watch this movie with T.  I want to go get ice cream.  I want to find some new music to listen to.  I want to soak in the tub with some insanity inducing bath salts.  While this might seem silly... it's actually rather fulfilling.  I set out one small goal per day that I know that I can achieve and will bring me joy... and I make sure to do it. 

It doesn't bring me a glorious future.  It doesn't really fix me.  It does make me smile daily and feel good about being alive.  It keeps me from losing to the demons, getting sucked into the stress of the daily grind, or collapsing under the weight of the damage from the past.  Even when I'm super depressed I find a way to smile daily and feel good about being alive.

Sunday, August 14, 2016

I'm a nerd

Something I've noticed about a lot of other blogs is that they tend to mix in more personal interests.  I dabbled a bit by mixing in some music and the like but didn't really receive any response to it.

As I've gotten older I've become a rather huge nerd.  In my younger days I tended to avoid nerding out on hobbies unless they were "cool" and acceptable to be that way about.  e.g. if I got super into guitar gear or music no one would bat an eye.

When I got older I stopped caring about what other people thought and delved into a handful of hobbies that I didn't pursue in my younger days.  These included things like Japanese RPG video games, Anime, Manga, and the like.  I'm also a huge fan of film and premium-channel serial dramas (e.g. think Dexter first 2 seasons) that I tend to follow until they stop, even if they started sucking at some point I manage to follow them until the end. 

Being that I have a pretty extensive number of movies I've seen from ~1929-1995, I've been exposed to a lot of different material from many countries and in many languages.  As such, I don't really have a genre of choice in the media I consume. I will pretty much watch anything as long as it is very good for what it is trying to be, or fails so badly that it is amazing when looked at in a comical way (It's so bad it's good).

At some point I also got into vintage pin-up art (especially Vargas) as well as collecting old illustrations from the Saturday Evening Post, Maxfield Parrish, and the like.  

I've been looking for other topics to write about as breaks from writing fs01 and there aren't always D/s related topics to write about.

I guess what I'm wondering is if people have any desire to see any of those other interests of mine or they'd rather me just stick to my topics or not write at all.

I'm open to either.

Fiction: fs01 - Part 50

Author’s Note:  This takes place the morning after Part 49.


I wake gently, my eyes blinking rapidly as they adjust to the light.  The room is empty and quiet except for the sound of my breathing and the light crackle of the fireplace.  The cage door stands open with a glass of water sitting within arm’s reach.  I shake the cobwebs from my brain and drink.  It is not long before my thoughts return to Mistress and I depart in search of her. 

Outside the bedroom I see Mistress on the sofa in front of the main fireplace.  She glances up, noticing me and greeting me with a smile.  I return a smile and make my way to her.  The television above the fireplace is on a commercial and I feel Mistress’s full attention as I approach her.  She wears her idea of a “rustic” outfit that is more her and less rustic.  Blue jeans with a pair of black fur mukluks, a black cashmere turtleneck, and a black fur vest with matching headband.  She’s beautiful.  The constant pressure of the chastity belt on my sex due to morning feels its intensity spike.  I wince, disturbing my smile. 

Mistress giggles.  Barb stirs as she lies upon the sofa with her head on Mistress’s lap.  I watch her expression change.

“Is something wrong, pet?”  I swallow and blush.
“You look beautiful today, Mistress.  My body thinks so, too.” 

Mistress lets out a light chuckle.  She reaches down and gently twists Barb’s ear.
“See little Barbie, you told me you’d dress up today.  Don’t you want to feel beautiful, too?”

Barb spits out some gibberish, obviously not fully awake yet.  Mistress pets her hair. 
“pet, I got Barbie an outfit that matches mine, do you think she would look beautiful in it too?”
“Yes, Mistress, I do.”
“Tell her, not me.”
“Miss Barb, I think that a matching outfit would make you look even more beautiful than usual.”

I watch Barb’s cheeks flush red and her hands quickly cover her face. 
“Naughty, pet.  Don’t you dare try to seduce her.”

My lip quivers as my face flushes red and my body stiffens with a jolt of fear.  Mistress laughs.
“I’m joking, pet.”  She beams a smile at me.
“Present your feet.”

I lie on my back and lift my feet to her.  She turns up the cuffs on my boots and removes the locks.

“pet, I want you to put on your snow boots and coat any time you go outside today.  Go use the outhouse, wash up, and get started on breakfast.”

I return to my knees and kiss her feet.  First the right foot, then the left.  I depart and quickly take care of my business before returning and starting breakfast.  Mistress instructs me on what to prepare for them and for myself.  I serve their meal before preparing mine and eat with them kneeling on the floor near Mistress.

After breakfast I take care of the dishes and Mistress instructs me to build fires in every room.  I take care of this as quickly as I can.  Upon returning to the living room Mistress waves me to her.  Barb stands behind Mistress and looks down, hiding her face from view.  Mistress takes a large step to the side.

“So what do you think of Barbie, pet?”

Barb fidgets in her discomfort.  It’s cute to see her so shy.  Her outfit is the same as Mistress’s, with the jeans, mukluks, sweater, vest, and headband except the sweater is cream colored and the fur is red fox.  Mistress slides in behind her and rubs her hand over Barb’s breast through the fur.  Barb lets out a gasp and blushes.  I blush too as my sex strains against the belt.

“You look very sexy, Miss Barb.”  Mistress cups her other breast from behind and whispers something in her ear.

“Come closer, slave.”  Barb commands, her cheeks flushing with color as her face tries to find an expression she is content with. 

She reaches out with her hands and pinches my nipples between her thumbs and index fingers.  My mouth opens and I exhale as another failed arousal attempt rushes through me.  Barb’s hand moves to the back of my head and she pulls me in, plunging her tongue deep into my mouth. 

She pushes me away and our lips part.  Her eyes pierce mine.  She sways a little as she rubs her thighs together.

“Is it okay if I have him do it, Cass?”
“Of course, doll.”

Barb clears her throat and points to the floor.  I drop to my knees, lower my head, and kiss her feet, first the right foot, then the left. 

“Fuck, that’s hot.”  I hear her whisper under her breath. 

“Go chop firewood, pet.  The others will arrive soon.”  Mistress’s voice snaps me from my trance. 

As I walk to the coat closet I steal a glance from the corner of my eye.  Mistress sits Barb on the sofa and then climbs up and mounts her.  Their mouths lock and a sea of hands follows.  My heart stings with a twinge of jealousy.  They use me; I am their aphrodisiac. 

My mind wanders as I split the wood.  I notice the cool, crisp, clean air that doesn’t exist in the city.  While I do not enjoy the labor, I know that the others benefit from my work.  Mistress seems a little different today and I’m having trouble placing it.  She seems… cautious. 

I continue working until I hear a car horn approaching.  Theresa’s car and Dominique’s SUV approach up the driveway.  I move up to greet them.  I see the door of the cabin open and Mistress and Barb park themselves on the porch.

As the vehicles come to a halt I approach and open Theresa’s door for her. 

“Thank you, fur, it’s been a while.”
She greets me with a smile.  I nod and smile back at her.  I open B’s door followed by Lisa’s, while Sammy and Gordon attend to Dominique.  Dominique wobbles for a few steps.

“Remind me why I built a cabin so far away?”
“Because the spa at the resort is ‘to die for,’” recites Theresa as she rolls her eyes.

Theresa pops the trunk and I begin to collect her bags.  Mistress is down in the driveway greeting people.  She gives me instructions as I pass her.

“Take Theresa’s and B’s bags to the room to the left of the stairs. Lisa’s bags will go in the first room on the left.”
“fur, our bags are the red and purple ones.  Lisa’s are the brown.”

I nod and continue.  Moving the luggage takes two trips.  I sort the purple and red suitcases and group them together near the closet and dresser and feed the fireplace with a couple of fresh logs.  I repeat this with Lisa’s bags.   

I return to the living room.  The sofas have been rearranged a bit, the three of them forming a U shape in front of the large main fireplace.  Mistress and Barb sit together on one, Lisa, Theresa and B on another, and Dominique sprawls across the third, glass of wine in her hand while Sammy rubs her shoulders and Gordon massages her feet.  I deposit my coat and boots in the closet.

I approach slowly and kneel near Mistress.  She pets my head.

“slave, Sammy and Gordon will be attending to Dom.  You will be responsible for the rest of us.”
“Yes, Mistress.”  I respond in a quiet voice.
“So, Lisa, you weren’t able to convince your husband to come?”  Lisa blushes a little.
“Well… you see… he’s actually terrified of you all.”

The room erupts into a sea of voices of disbelief.

“I thought he had started submitting to you.”
“He is… in small doses.  He’s getting used to it.  I made the mistake of showing him some of the youtube videos of Dominique from the club.  They kind of freaked him out and he’s embarrassed that you will think he’s a newb.  I wish he would just be brave.” 
“That’s a shame.  You’re the only one that doesn’t have a companion.  Would you like to borrow my slave tonight?  The nights get cold if you don’t have a body to snuggle with for warmth.”

Lisa’s face blushes a bright red.  My instinct is to think it’s cute but as her eyes meet mine I realize that Mistress just offered me to her to use.  My face responds in kind with a blush of my own and the tingle in my heart resumes. 

“Let me answer you after I’ve had a few drinks Cassandra.” 

Lisa composes herself quickly.  Her confidence grows.  I notice that she no longer refers to Mistress as ‘Miss Cassandra.’  Mistress chuckles behind me.  I’m sure that she notices as well. 

The afternoon passes quickly.  Dominique gives them a tour while I prepare dinner.  Dominique sends Gordon and Sammy to assist me.  I’m happy for the help, cooking for this many people is a much bigger challenge.  Dinner is lively as everyone catches up.  Mistress has been spending less time at work and has been busy with Barb, the prison experiment and the like.  It has been a long time since I have seen them all together.  They really are good friends.  They consume many bottles of wine with dinner. 

I can’t help but feel out of place in this setting.  I know these women fairly intimately and have spent many hours one-on-one with them.  When they are together the difference is obvious.  To them I am less than a person.  The stronger they get, the more confident they become, the less I am in their eyes.  I feel myself drift a little deeper into the abyss.  I shake these thoughts from my head… the thoughts are unnecessary.  The voices no longer distract my mind. 

After dinner they return to the living room where Sammy and Gordon continue to serve wine.  I remain in the kitchen and attend to the dishes.  I find myself in the same mental space as the day before.  I scrub like a machine.  Every dish, every fork, every knife… perfect.  Fast… efficient… as Mistress would want me. 

I return to the living room and kneel next to Mistress.  I feel nothing… I simply exist.  Dominique’s voice enters clearly.

“Cass, check on your slave.  The little one is gone.” 
“slave, come here.” 

Mistress pats her lap.  I turn on my knees and shuffle toward her.  I feel her hands cup the earmuffs on my head harness and she tilts my face up toward hers.  Mistress lets out a sigh and pulls my head down to her lap.  I lay my head sideways and breathe. 
“I’m here, pet.  Come back to me.  Your Mistress is here.” 

I let out a small sniffle and I feel myself slowly shift back into my eyes… like I am returning.  She pets my head.  I inhale deeply as the scent of her perfume returns me to the present. 

“What the hell just happened, Cass?  Is this like what happened yesterday?” Barb’s voice sounds genuinely inquisitive.  Dominique responds before Mistress.

“The little one is broken.  He’s in slavespace.” 
“I don’t understand.  How could you tell all that?”
“His eyes.  The little one wasn’t there.  I’m not sure if you know this, Barbie, but I’ve broken the little one twice before.  He’s a fighter and he managed to hang on to himself.  This is something new.” 
“What is slavespace?  This isn’t making sense to me.”

Mistress chimes in.
“You aren’t a submissive, Barbie, so this might be difficult for you to understand.  Yesterday I pushed him to the point of exhaustion and loaded him up with an absurd amount of tasks to complete.  When you teased him it put him under a great deal of mental stress and he subconsciously detached in order to achieve his primary goal of pleasing me.”
“Was this my fault?” 
“Not at all, hon. I take full responsibility.  I’m a bit surprised, though.  He’s been through a lot over the past year and this is the first time I’ve seen him this deep.  I have a pretty good idea of what has changed.”   

My heart hurts.  I work up the courage to speak to Mistress.  My voice is tiny.
“Mistress, your slave is sorry.”

She continues to stroke my head.
“What are you sorry for, pet?”
“I’m sorry if I’ve become something bad… something that you don’t like.”
“You’re wrong, pet.  I’m so proud of you.  I wanted you to reach this point.  I’d been trying to take you here for years and you finally made it.  I’m so proud of you.”
“Thank you, Mistress.  I love you.”

I close my eyes and nuzzle into her thighs.  I feel her heat on my cheek. 
“We just have to teach you how to come back when I want you, pet.  I’m sure you’ll make me proud.”

I feel my insides calm.  Mistress’s words and touch soothe me.  Barb leans forward on the sofa and turns back to Mistress.

“I don’t quite get this all.  So how does someone like him just become a submissive?  Why does he need it?  Why does he choose this?  It doesn’t make any sense to me.”
“My pet is quite complicated but once you understand him, it’s actually quite simple.”
“Enlighten me.”
“For starters, do you want to know about the mental side of his submission or the sexual side?”

Dominique rises from the sofa. 
“If this is going to be a trip down memory lane I’m going to the hot tub out on the deck.  After a 6-hour car ride I don’t think I could handle another snooze-fest.  Anyone care to join me?”

B raises her hand.  She leans forward and makes eye contact with Theresa.  Theresa nods and B stands up. 

“Anyone else?”
“I’m actually pretty interested in hearing about this.”
“Suit yourself, T.  How about you, Lisa?”
“I want to hear this as well.  You don’t want to learn about what makes fur tick?”
“Nope.  But if you want to let me make him scream, send someone to come get me.”

I watch as Dominique, B, Sammy, and Gordon leave my field of vision.

“Does anyone need more wine?”

I watch a series of empty glasses rise. 
“pet…” whispers Mistress.

I rise and take the wine bottle in my hands and refill their glasses as Mistress continues talking.

“You see, pet was abused when he was young.  His father had a drinking problem and a temper and his mother was distant to say the least.  His method of coping was to try and be perfect all the time.  He wanted to earn their praise… or even their acceptance.  He wanted to be loved.”
“A lot of people are abused but they don’t end up submissive.”
“You’re correct, Barbie.  This was pet’s unique way of coping with things.  He just tried his hardest all the time, even when they kept beating him down.  This is what makes him so special to me.  He earns every ounce of love I give him and he always continues to try his hardest all the time.  It’s like his experiences made him for this life.”

I finish with the wine and return to my kneeling position near Mistress.

“Interesting.  So instead of just becoming an abusive alcoholic or checking out emotionally he just kept on going on the glimmer of hope that things would get better?”
“Wow.  That’s rare.  So what about the sex stuff?  Even with that attitude that wouldn’t have made him get off on this lifestyle.”
“You are correct.  His experiences outside of the home are what firmly shaped him.  Pet, do you want to tell them about Brittany, or should I?”

I feel my chest twist into knots and my face burns red.  My eyebrows sag.  Mistress reads me like a book.  I feel my breathing get heavy.  If I have to relive this shame I would rather her tell things.

“When pet was young there was a neighborhood girl that he was friends with.  Her name was Brittany.  Their fathers were friends and drinking buddies.  Her father was an abusive drunk as well, so there were times when they knew their fathers were out drinking that they would stay together even after the other kids went home for the evening.”
“So Brittany was Jenny to his Forrest?”  Mistress laughs.

“I guess you could put it that way.  pet wanted to protect her more than anything because she was kind to him.  I think it’s safe to say that he loved her before he knew what love was.” 

I tilt my head and place it back on Mistress’s lap.  My face is on fire.  The past embarrasses me because I know what comes next.

“Her parents divorced while they were still in elementary school.  Brittany went with her mother who quickly moved in with and remarried a doctor that lived in the wealthy neighborhood on the other side of town.  She transferred to private school for K-9.”
“What happened to him?”
“With Brittany gone he turned his energy to pleasing his parents.  He got straight A’s and excelled at sports but never made many friends.  pet’s parents divorced while he was in junior high and pet stayed with his mother while his father moved away.  His mother went on a string of dating various men and pet was left pretty much by himself.  Upon entering high school pet was injured in sports and he had to quit playing all of them.  He didn’t have any friends and was a bit chubby.” 
“Where does Brittany fit into this then?”

“Brittany returned to pet’s high school in 10th grade.  She had fully blossomed and had become very pretty and popular.   pet noticed her immediately and hoped to get her attention but he was so shy that he mostly just watched her from a distance as she was almost always surrounded by her friends.  I’m sure this will embarrass him badly but Brittany wore a lot of fur; vests and coats as the weather permitted.  As pet would stare at her from a distance he became completely smitten with her but she never acknowledged him.” 

I bury my face in Mistress’s lap.  I want to disappear.

“During the winter of that year one of Brittany’s friends approached pet and told him that Brittany wanted to speak with him after school and to meet by the bathrooms near the cafeteria.  He was so excited at the possibility of reuniting with his childhood friend.  When he arrived, two girls escorted him into the girl’s bathroom where Brittany was waiting.”

I let out a pained moan.

“What happened next?”
“A group of girls were there with Brittany.  They stripped him naked, duct taped his wrists and ankles to the stall, wrote things on him with permanent marker, and took Polaroids of him.”

Barb roars with laughter.  I whimper into Mistress’s lap.
“Really?  I didn’t think people actually did stuff like that.”
“Brittany then used those Polaroids to blackmail pet into doing whatever she wanted him to do, basically making him her personal slave.  She would make him walk to her house after school while she drove home with her friends where they would tease him and make him do their homework and the like.”
“Why didn’t he just take the Polaroids by force?”
“You see, pet still loved Brittany.  He was so happy that she was back in his life that he just went along with it.”
“Didn’t their parents notice anything?”
“Well, pet’s mother was never home.  Brittany’s mother and stepfather traveled all the time and would just let her stay at home with a pile of cash and a credit card.  To pet, it was either this or being alone.” 

I feel tears trickle down the sides of my eyes into Mistress’s jeans. 

“Why didn’t he just make new friends or something?”
“Brittany demanded that he be available at any time.  She even got him a pager.  He had no time to make friends.  If rumor spread that a girl had a crush on pet, Brittany would have one of her friends tell the girl that pet was gay or that he called her a skank.  He spent all of high school without friends and no girlfriend.  All he had was Brittany.” 
“I still don’t understand how this led to him being a submissive.”

“pet, tell Barbie what you did every night after you walked home from Brittany’s.”

I whimper and shake my head back and forth in her lap.
“pet, tell her or you’ll get the strap.”

I let out a light sob.  I close my eyes as tight as I can.

“I would masturbate thinking about her.”
“Louder, pet.”
“Every night I would masturbate while thinking about Brittany.”

I lower my head and weep.  Mistress’s hands pet my head.

“What the fuck?  Seriously?  That’s messed up.”
“I don’t think so, Barbie.  I think pet did the best he could in a messed up situation.  None of that was his choice.  He punished himself enough for it over the years.  It kept him single throughout college and most of his 20’s.  It also made him a perfect fit for me.  Venus in Furs seeks a Severin to compliment her Wanda.  My pet is my perfect fit… my perfect compliment.  I love him like no one else.”

I snuggle my face into her leg.  I love my Mistress.  She is the one in this world that gets me.  She is the one in this world that makes me feel like I have purpose.  I feel like I was made just for her. 

“Cassandra, I want to use fur tonight if that’s okay.” 

I look up and see Lisa.  Her face is flushed and she’s obviously drunk.  She lets out a small burp and her color shifts to a deeper shade of red. 

“Of course, Lisa.  He’s all yours.”

I blush a little, knowing that I’m being passed around like a toy.  I do not mind.  Lisa is special to me. 

“Make me proud, pet.” Mistress whispers to me.  I smile and feel warm inside.  I am proud that I am hers. 

Mistress taps my shoulder.  I lift my head and she stands.  I rise with her and I feel her arms embrace me.  I bury my face into her fur vest and inhale the scent of her perfume. 
“I love you, Mistress.” I whisper back to her.  She smiles at me.

I feel my emotions uncoil a bit.  It’s a strange sensation… when Mistress chooses to expose me so openly in front of others.  I know that she believes in me and trusts that I am strong enough to handle it.  This is her inner-circle and they have already accepted me.  It doesn’t make it easier, feeling the layers stripped away for all to see.  I think Mistress wants them to see me the way she sees me… the depth of my vulnerability… the core of my being fully exposed. 

“Let’s head to the bedroom, Barbie.”  Mistress takes her by the hand and they leave together.

“I’m going to go check on B, maybe soak in the hot tub for a few.”  Theresa heads toward the back door where the deck is located.

Lisa looks up at me from the sofa.  Her red face hovers around as she forces her eyes to stay open.  The drunk version of Lisa is rather adorable.  I extend my hand to her and help her up.  She stands and teeters a little, slumping into my chest.  I hoist her into my arms, Princess style and carry her to her room.  She closes her eyes and smiles. 

We reach the bedroom and I set the lights to a dim setting and I carefully set her on her feet.  She wobbles a little and braces herself with my arm.  I watch as Lisa kicks off her shoes and slips out of her jeans leaving them in a mound on the floor.  She stumbles a bit as she steps on the toes of her socks and yanks them off her feet.  Lisa grabs a small bag from her luggage and slumps down on a large chair in the corner.  She rifles through it with purpose, eventually dumping its contents out onto the table and grabs the large purple vibrator in her hands. 

She slides down into the chair, slouching badly, her pink cotton panties peaking out from under her oversized sweater. 

“fur, worship my feet.” 
“Yes, Miss Lisa.” 

I approach her and kneel.  She lifts her right leg to me and I take it gently in my hands.  She throws her left leg over the armrest of the chair.  I gently kiss the top of her foot.  I caress the bottom of her foot, starting at the ball before working my thumbs to the arch.  I hear the buzz of the vibrator as she teases her clit through her panties.  She moans as I continue to rub her foot.  I work my way to her heel and I sense the change in her breathing.  Her chest rises and falls as the moans grow deeper.  I cover the top of her foot in kisses before taking her big toe in my mouth.  I suck lightly while my tongue massages the bottom of the toe. 

Her left leg twitches as her moans become constant.  I slowly move on to the next toe as I continue to massage the bottom of her foot with my thumbs.  I swish the suction over it while I press and flick my tongue.  She lets out a cry as her body pulses and shakes, her pelvis bucks as Lisa enjoys her first orgasm. 

I continue to work my way down her toes.  It’s not long before the vibrator is in place again, stimulating her clit as she squirms and moans in the chair.  Lisa is usually so shy.  I am honored that she feels comfortable enough with me to share this level of intimacy.  She is becoming able to just say what she wants. 

As I suck on her pinky toe her body convulses with its second orgasm.  I lower her foot with my hands getting ready to switch legs. 
“Kiss the bottom.”

Her directness surprises me.  This is new.  My brain makes a snap decision.  Lifting her foot higher doesn’t feel right so I adjust my body and slide onto my back and kiss her foot from below.  I gently outline her foot from the ball to the heel and back.  Lisa makes some noises that aren’t quite a moan or a laugh, they just sound like ‘joy.’

She retrieves her foot from me and lowers her left leg.  I return to my knees and take her left foot in my hands and kiss it.  The vibrator resumes its work.  My well-practiced hands start their massage, working her foot thoroughly and gently from front to back.  Lisa arches her back in the chair and breathes deeply.  As I take her big toe into my mouth I feel her body buck again as she cums.  My lips… my tongue… the suction… her body reacts more lively as I go.  Each toe, one by one.  She cums again as I reach the pinky.  I hear the vibrator stop as my tongue continues its work. 

I release her toe from my mouth and move again to my back.  I shower the bottom of her foot in kisses as Lisa coos and squirms above me.  I return to my knees as she rises and leans forward in the chair. 

“Thank you for the privilege of pleasing you, Miss Lisa.”

Her face remains red, a half-smile on her face.  Her eyes hang heavy.  Her hand grabs the back of my head and pulls me to her as she kisses me on the mouth.  The kiss is gentle, her tongue traces the outline of my lips before she leans away.  I watch her take a deep breath and exhale slowly. 

“Lean onto the bed, face down.”
“Yes, Miss Lisa.”

I rise from my knees and lean onto the bed.  I feel her hand caress my buttocks.  Smack, her palm connects with my butt cheek.  My body bucks and I let out a small grunt.  Smack, she slaps the other cheek. 

“That’s for getting me all worked up.”  She lets out a small laugh.
“Stand up and give me your hands.”  I stand and turn and watch as she picks up her jeans and digs through the pockets.  She approaches and turns back the sides of the muff, locking my wrists to the internal chain before turning them up and cinching the ends. 

“Get in bed.  You’ll be warming my body tonight.”

I nod and climb onto the bed.  Lisa dims the lights to a faint glow and crawls on after me.  Under the covers she presses her body against mine.  I am the little spoon.  I feel the heat of her sex and the dampness of her panties against my rear.  Her arm wraps around my chest and she gently squeezes my nipple.  She whispers in my ear.


Within a couple of minutes I hear her gentle snore.  Her warm breath flows onto my neck. 

Exhaustion sets in on my tired mind.  As I drift off my spirit feels rejuvenated.  The different feelings of pleasing someone instead of being used for pleasure...  I feel like Mistress gave Lisa to me instead of me to Lisa. 


A Very Good Read

I don't do a lot of reblogging but I enjoyed reading this quite a bit:

This is a post from a poly Domme about part of her process of conditioning a sub in a long-term relationship with the end goal of TPE and the psychological/emotional responsibilities involved.  

Bravery, frustrations, and late night rants

I decided today that I'm pretty much done with Fetlife.

The negative hostility finally got to me.  None of the negative hostility was directed at me but I can't imagine why I would continue to subject myself to that type of environment.  I gave it about two months and did my best to interact in ways that I could, hoping for discussion and the like.

What I found is that the majority of people there aren't really interested in discussion.  Soap boxing, back patting when someone has identical views, and treating people badly seems to be the norm on active groups.  I think what bothers me most is the tendency for people to chase the low-hanging fruit.  Comments that are well-thought and provide interesting perspectives are generally ignored since people can't easily agree with them or easily try to make the poster feel like a jack-ass.

I think the last straw for me was when a Domme posted that it is a myth that submissive men outnumber Dominant women.  If I wasn't already feeling like I had one foot out the door I think I would have wanted to vomit.  This is the most obvious thing about BDSM.  I don't understand why someone would willingly reject it just to support their own ideas.  In my younger days I may have snapped into keyboard warrior mode, but I have no energy for those types of shenanigans anymore.

I will still log in there as I did meet one person I enjoy corresponding with and one of my blog readers uses that site as our primary means of communication, but damn, I really don't see much of a point in trying to take part in anything.  I'd be better off just searching uploaded photos for jerk off material.

Some recent correspondence with a sub there has led me to something else that has nagged me over the years.  Most people are cowards.  I've always felt this way on many levels but I've never realized just how ill-prepared many people are emotionally to face relationships.

For much of my life I have hoped to consider myself emotionally strong.  I succeed in some areas and I am definitely weak in others, but as a whole, I have no trouble being committed, dedicated, or loyal.  I have no trouble seeing things through.  I fully understand that life carries both good and bad and weathering through the ups and downs is what makes us who we are.

I  never felt brave until recently when I have seen so many people who are completely mortified at the idea of truly loving someone... being truly vulnerable to someone... being willing to make sacrifices for someone.  I've never felt brave for doing these things and I think these are crucial in successful vanilla relationships let alone D/s ones.  It's like people don't want to trust someone else unless they see that person as infallible.  Like... seriously?  People don't want to trust unless the other person is perfect?  They expect someone else to accept them with their imperfections but don't want their partner to have any?

I guess I just don't get it.  It's times like these where I don't mind that I'm so screwed up.  I do a lot of what I do because I can't picture someone loving me if I don't.  What is even crazier is that I don't expect a partner to reciprocate those things.  I do not mind if I love them unconditionally but they require conditions of me to love me back.  I do not mind being wholly vulnerable and exposed while they are selective in what they show me.  I do not mind if I am the one that makes the sacrifices and compromises for the good of the relationship.  This is the way that my brain works.

I've never considered this brave until I was aware of just how few people can or will do this.  I don't even know if brave is the right word.  Is it better described as stupid?  Desperate?

I don't really know.  The only thing I am sure of is that I actually don't mind myself at the moment... in all of my fucked-up glory.