One Moment

For just one moment, I want all the world to stop.
I want no thoughts in my head but that I am a slave.
To kneel, in a perfect kneel, my body creating the perfect vision of a slave.
I need nothing other than the beating of my heart as a rhythm
Bump bump bump
I am a slave.
I am a slave.
I am a slave.

One day again, someone will claim that slave part of me.  One day, someone will find my service very helpful, entertaining even. I know this. The slave in me is terribly eager, hungry, so filthy and slutty, holes wet and needing filling.  And I just shhhhhh that part of me, calm it.

Just because there's no collar around my neck, no one pushing my buttons, no one pushing me into the sub space, the slave head space that I so need doesn't mean it's gone forever.  Even without a Master, I remind myself, I am still a very good slave.

New Hobbies

I have just recently gotten very intrigued with the idea of self-bondage.  I was wanting to try something fun and make a Sinful Sunday post last week.  (Thankfully, I was otherwise inspired.)  Because when I Googled self-bondage, I found a wide array of information, a lot of it really scary.

Now, don't get me wrong, I think a person living alone with padlocks or complex plans of self-ropework really should be cautious.  Thankfully, I have t (to hopefully take pictures, but worst case scenario, rescue me, as well.)  And yes, I could just ask t to put me in bondage.  But this is my curiosity of "self-bondage" so asking him to do it sort of takes the whole point out of it.  (Plus, he's asleep and I was wanting to try something tonight)

I have often thought that pilates and yoga type poses would be more interesting if I was in bondage.  I think if exercising and getting fit were more related to slave-like activities, I would be happier to get behind them.  Plus, if I'm interested in being in bondage for anyone in the future, I really need to get in shape.  The last time t had me in a hog-tie, my arms and hands were asleep within a minute or two of him putting the cuffs on me.  So unacceptable!  I think the best way to get in good bondage shape is to just start practicing by myself.

When I Googled images, I was amazed at some of the things I found.  (honestly, I had a hard time believing that some of these were not done with some outside help).  Although, I'm curious about ropework and making my bondage look aesthetically pleasing (and thereby producing more naughty picture posts as well as fun self-experimentation), I think I'm going to start off with something simple involving our cuffs (wrist and ankle).  I don't want to set my sights too high and get discouraged.  And I'm really wondering if I have the patience to learn intricate ropework.

I'm hoping to accomplish a few things in this exercise.  I would like to become more flexible and build up my endurance to being in uncomfortable positions.  I'm also hoping to tap into my slave self in a way that kneeling used to for me.  I used to be able to kneel and go to that almost meditative place in my head of being a slave. The last few times I was kneeling (not for a "Him", just for myself) I found myself feeling silly.  Like it was an exercise in futility.  As if I was kneeling to pray to a deity that I no longer believe in.  All I kept doing was getting in my own head and ruining the experience.

I feel like maybe some self-bondage might be just the push I need that gives me the added discomfort and (albeit an illusion) helplessness that will assist me in getting to that head space that I so crave.

Sinful Sunday

This is not my best self-portrait.  The lighting is off.  It's blurry.  And yes, I am standing on my toilet.  I really need to get a full-length mirror.  Seriously!

But what is hot, to me, about this photograph is that it was requested.  Specifically.  (full body, totally naked)  I loathe full body totally naked that *i* have to look at.  (I'm way sexier with a blindfold or hood on)  But I love that He requested it.  And I hope it meets His satisfaction.

Click below to see who else is being photoerotic this fine Sinful Sunday, hosted by Molly's Daily Kiss.

Gag order in effect

Let me start out by saying I am the one enforcing this gag order.
And really, I'm doing it because I fucking hate being whiny depression girl. It's not hot to write about, it's not a sexy place to be.  Although, I will say I did have a fast and dirty play a little while ago, but that was only after I was sure I wasn't going to have a stroke from my sometimes insanely stressful job.  And it was, unfortunately, just a nibble of an orgasm. I wanted to fuck myself until I was sore and sated. Instead I did a half-assed job at best, really barely eking one out. 

And so, the gag order is in effect. I am hereby telling myself shut the fuck up.  I will post again when it's lifted. I'm hoping I can come up with something hot and original for Sinful Sunday.  We'll see how that goes.

Cryptic Code

Let me preface this by saying.  This post may not make a bit of sense.  There may possibly be a decoder ring in a cereal box that will translate this to readable English.

Because I want to write.  I'm really in a good place.  But....I so don't want to talk about anything and jinx it. I'm not terribly superstitious (I had a black cat whom I adored and Friday the 13th is almost always a lucky day for me) but I have been burned here in the recent past, writing all happy and silly and sub bliss-y, only to discover he was a bit fat phony (I can't stop thinking that from "The Family Guy") and I was a naive girl fooled.  Not that this is at ALL the case now.  I think I don't want to write about anything yet because of the promise of potential.

And yet, I find myself wanting to write.  Because I'm all post-coital glow-y (solo sex) and feeling like for once I don't dread what's next.  Ever since my release, I have felt terribly heartbroken.  And then incredibly despondent.  And also sort of panicky (to replace Him).  And mostly just like....nothing good to look forward to really turns me into a worker bee.  Go to work, do a good job.  Be a wife and mommy, do a good job.  Sleep.  Repeat.  All work and no play makes this girl kinda Here's Johnny-ish.

I've had an amazing book suggested ("A Reluctant Dom") and am like 75% through it.  It's going to be a sobfest ending, so I'm trying to time it right so that I don't have to go to work with eyes that are swollen shut.  I forgot how much I can get over myself and out of my own head and just read.  I forget sometimes what a crazy book lover I am.  I get in ruts, with work and staring at print too much, that I forget that a good book is some of the best time ever.

Oh, and the orgasms I've had lately.  Damn.  Doing specific things, with specific implements *for* someone (especially if they're not watching, listening, or even expecting a detailed description afterwards) is so heady.
The orgasms are so much more quenching, so much more of a lasting yummy feeling.  Being slutty by yourself, for yourself is so terribly lame in comparison.

So I guess this isn't as cryptic as I'd originally feared.  It might even make sense.  Hard to say, as I think I fell asleep a half hour ago.  And so, a new adventure begins....

Huge Revelation

So are you ready for this? This is what I've learned and I wanted to pass this wisdom on. The internet is full of liars (in particular on CollarMe) i know, shocking right?

I have twice now thought there was a connection with someone, only to have them disappear off the face of the earth.  Then tonight, struck up a fun conversation, moved it to email, where i hours later got an email back saying "this is the wife and I will hunt you down" (I'm actualy quoting verbatim from her email. i seriously couldn't make this shit up.)

I'm always just myself. i never hide that I'm married. i am beginning to think i need a Dom matchmaker or headhunter. I'm already really burnt out on the bullshit. i know there are quality people out there. i just don't know how to find one. I'm beginning to think CM isn't the place.

BASE Jump Analogy

So this is me trying to be casual. So casual and low-key. Really. I'm, like, totally cool.

But I "met" someone. And what might be there is so very promising.
I don't want to say too much and jinx things.
But, wow, can I just say wow?

God it's so fucking terrifying, staring over the cliff's edge. And yes, I have a parachute. And some might even say it's too soon to jump. So I'm standing here, staring into the abyss, testing the wind, looking at the landscape, and getting the courage to jump.

I will keep you posted.

Why isn't masturbating an Olympic event?

Seriously. I think a really really good solo play session takes more concentration than, say, archery.  And if I want to cum more than just a couple times, sometimes I need the stamina of a water polo player. Plus, how fun would that be to watch?

I have a new fantasy. Well, really it's a very very old fantasy that comes up every now and again. It's something along the lines of inanimate object sex. Thanks to the world of internet porn, I've seen things like fucking machines and the like in action. But ever since I can remember, I've always thought it was so incredibly hot to think about being violated (think vibe on clit, pussy full and maybe thrusting, maybe just full, ditto with ass, big gag in mouth) by something other than a Him. I don't serve anyone. I don't cum for anyone. I just get filled up and cum and cum and cum. Because that's all my mind can handle. And I truly have a much better perspective on life in general if I cum regularly.

But being a slave is so mental. It's like 90% mental. And masturbating is like 80% mental. (some might argue, but I've had the exact same toy on the exact same spot for minutes and minutes and had to really work hard at it. Whereas, with the right thought in my mind, seconds after finding that spot, I'm cumming) So in order to truly be able to go to my happy place without getting all inside my own head, I just take that element out of my play.

But, see, I'm a total pervert. So my inanimate fucking situation is so much more involved than just being on a fucking machine and cumming. There's fairly elaborate sets and props in these fantasies.  If I had the time, I'd write a whole short story about it. I do not have the time, so I will summarize.

Sometimes it's very elaborate (if I need to cum like 15 times or something). It's like a room. Of whores, like me. And we are all strapped to various types of contraptions and having slutty, sexy things done to us. (maybe for someone's viewing pleasure, maybe just because.) Sometimes, another tortured slave like myself is set free from his binds and is allowed to come and fuck my mouth and cum. Most of the time, I just picture other insatiable whores all being tortured (by tortured I mean clamps, clips, spanking machines, being fucking to oblivion, etc. My version of tortured is very very whitewashed and doesn't really involve pain.)  This removes any element of self-awareness, all sense of present situation-ness. 

I've found the blindfold comes in handy. Or a pillow over my head. (plus I love a little bit of breath play) And my old best friend is again my new best friend. My shower massager. I love feeling so so clean. While being so fucking dirty.  I think I could win gold on quickness of orgasms and could possibly even get a silver medal for amount of total orgasms. (I'm sure there's a Chinese slave who can cum more.)

Put your cocks away. This (sadly) isn't that kind of post

I am so lucky that I'm not adrift at sea, unfettered and alone. I have some pretty amazing people in my world. And they keep me chartering the right course. I have run the gamut of emotions. At first, I was beating myself up (and being self-sabotaging, but thankfully I've reigned that in). I know I have stated this before. I hate crying. Don't get me wrong, the sweet movie where you get a tear trickle down your cheek is fine....I'm talking about gut-wrenching, can't open your eyes the next day crying.

But additionally, I hate feeling sad. I have twice the mental anguish when I am sad, because I get mad at myself for being so sad. So I'm happy to say that thanks to some really good people, I'm doing considerably better in the tear-fest department. The pity parties have ceased.

My good friend Ms T said “People come into your life for a reason, a season, or a lifetime” So true.  It's good to accept that.

And I've had another very smart person tell me about an exercise that helps me go to my pure slave place. Like a meditation. And afterwards, I feel more centered, more in touch with that girl. The one who yearns to serve and to be a truly prized possession. And that part of me isn't in a panic-stricken state any longer. I realize now is just the time for refurbishment. Sometimes things have to be completely gutted to be able to be rebuilt more beautiful.

I'm also happy to say I have a pressie (and potential hot picture opportunity) coming in the mail. I am so lucky in that way. T buys the best presents. And just having something fun to look forward to has brightened up my spirits. He ordered me a leather breast binder. Oh, I really hope it fits! It will be my Sinful Sunday photo if it does. My boobs aren't really what you'd call “one size fits all” though, so we shall see.

Sinful Sunday

my husband knows how to cheer me up when I'm down....

Posted in participation with Sinful Sunday, hosted by Molly's Daily Kiss.

Click below to see who else is partaking this week.

Ache to Kneel

Some phrases are so perfectly encapsulating of a feeling. My title is a perfect example of this.  I wish I could take credit for the phrase, but alas, I stole it.

In other really comical news. I've been on CollarMe less than a week and have gotten no less than 100 messages a day. 99.9% of these are fairly unappealing people. I really mostly only get messages from men in their 50-70's who live in a trailer and are looking for a "beer wench". I do realize it's pretty much only a meat market for men who want blowjobs for free without bothering to have to put pants on and go out to a bar. There are more than a few who i can only describe as serial killer looking. One guy, I swear, the look on his face says "I want to wear your skin and drink out of your bones."

All Good Things Come to an End

I am in the process of revamping this blog a bit.
I have been released from my Master's service.
Out of respect for everyone's privacy, I will leave it at that.
I am so very sad.
I didn't want to lose this blog on top of everything else.
So instead of trying to start all over, I'm going to attempt to
revamp this blog to suit my altered needs.
And no, one of my needs is not an open application for a new Master.
I am in mourning and not in the least Dom shopping.
I just need to write.  I promise not to post tear-stained sob stories every day.
I just cannot fathom going on without the ability to write some.
So there.  I've said it.
It's out there.
And now I can start to heal.