Sir Raven and i are both empathic introverts, which makes living with large crowds nearly as fun as it sounds like.
However, Sir Raven always notices quality and often points out that i am a reflection of her. The quality of what i am wearing reflects her in a personal way, just like my manners or behavior. Looking back, at that first week we spent together in Sir’s house, i’m surprised that she wasn’t running for the airport. i was wearing the skirts and tops i lived in, ready to work. i was neat, clean, but certainly not stylish or concerned about the quality of my mostly thrift store wardrobe.
She thinks i am a quality slave and should have been used to being treated in ways that reflected that. When i happily accepted thrift store clothes for myself, i was letting people comment about my worth. It is a learning process to understand that rather thank thinking it was good enough for me.
There are a lot of things she figured everyone knew, and one of those things was going shopping every season. She is intent on buying some new dresses for me and i could use a few. Some of the things i came with were donated because they were too big or not pleasing to her. Sir Raven treats me like a little doll that she wants to dress up…which is funny, considering. The nice part, to me, is knowing that whatever i am wearing pleases her. In an interesting way, it reminds me that in my Master’s eyes, i am quality. i am worthy.
She shows love in several ways and one of the most natural for her is with money. There are times i have to remind myself of this because that would mean to reject what she is doing for me could feel like a personal rejection. i’m not sure but its possible. It does to me.
We had planned to go out today to get some nice (quality..heh) scented candles we both really enjoy and a waffle iron. That got put on hold for something more important she needed to do to help a friend. So, i stayed behind.
Before she left, though, she caned me. i responded by curling up in the “prepare for a tornado” position and hollered “nine and a half weeks, ten frigging weeks” at her. *That* is how long its been without S/m and my body freaked out in its tender, untouched, unprepared state. i had no idea it was coming, either, so no mental preperation either. Not to mention, it was rushed and if i was going to let go, i needed to take a lot more. Sort of like being pushed right on over a cliff versus being left to dangle.
Afterwards, a couple of hours later, alone, i started feeling a low-level anxiety. i felt better after i baked brownies and mopped, scrubbed, and straightened the house.
My doctor called and everything is good. She is going to get me a referral for another doctor that deals with fibromyalgia (thank God). The biopsy coming back fine made me feel suddenly weak in the knees followed by a high level of anxiety, representing all of the emotions i had held back, and would have kept holding back had it gone the other way.
i laid her belt across the made bed. Though i truly hate them, she enjoys it and it would help me let go of all of the anxiety i’m feeling today. We’ll see. A girl can hope. 🙂