Getting it together…

It’s been a difficult week or so of nightmares, which has played a part in a nasty bout of insomnia.  The lack of sleep has certainly not helped my body, which is still fighting infections.  i’ve managed to keep up with the chores, cooking, and errands over these many weeks of being ill.  Homework has been turned in late, but the scores are high.

Then, i dropped the ball for a few days.  When Sir Raven came home Tuesday and found me still in my pajamas, the house a mess, she stopped in the middle of the living room in disbelief.  “What is going on in my house, girl?”  i opened my mouth to speak, wisely shut it, and was promptly dressing to head out in the cold for her wine.  Since we had been sent home with about a week of food from a gathering of the crew, i had not cooked.  That was mistake two.  Sir Raven was clearly put out, though she allowed me to fix breakfast for dinner and clean up before going back to bed to rest.

Yesterday was spent doing All The Things.  i’m so sensitive at the slightest sign of disapproval from her that i tend to go overboard to attempt to please.  i’ve been this way my whole life.  Fortunately, i have pain pills and took the actual recommended dose to get through the day.  i got the entire house dusted, which takes considerable time, owing to the amount of books and things we have.  For a small apartment, we live like artists-painted wine bottles, painted canvas, tiny Buddha statues, house plants, baskets of supplies, boxes with little treasures spill out of everywhere.  My own contributions to the stuff is largely throw blankets, teddy bears, and some of the art and love tokens i have quietly placed on her stool in offering over the years.  All of it has to be dusted, furniture slid around to sweep and mop underneath, walls washed.  The bed needed clean sheets, the laundry needed sorting, the errands needing doing.  i fixed slow cooked ribs, black beans, and jasmine rice for dinner.  By the time she came home, i was showered and had pulled my hair up in a simple pony tail because she likes it.  i had asked Sir Raven about trying some different eyeliner while it was on sale, which i was nervous about because i had stuck to an old school pencil my whole life.  i was a bit surprised that she liked the updated look immediately, having carefully scrutinized it the day before.

When she handed me her coat, she made a satisfied sound at the clean house, scrubbed and made pretty slave, dinner smells coming from the kitchen and mingling with the vanilla sandlewood candles.  i apologized for letting things get out of control and she gently kissed me, in absolution.  We had a nice evening, got the rest of the details for two M/s conferences hammered out, tickets ordered.  i was exhausted by the time i had her lunch fixed, kitchen recleaned, and french press set up.  i asked to get changed into my pjs, asked about going out to do the laundry today, and explained that i would likely have to spend much of today trying to get caught up with papers past-due.  Sir Raven warned me to get back to taking a daily nap again, which i’ve been neglecting for the most part, unable to sleep for the pain or not figuring out how to fit it in.  That shouldn’t be a problem, since i could not sleep-again-last night.  i got maybe four hours before it was time to get up and spend a couple of hours with her before she had to go to wok.

There isn’t any rule or real expectation that i get up with her in the morning, but most days i make it up to see her off.  It’s the last chance i have to see to her comfort before she is out in the world, and it matters to me.  Recently, she admitted that she appreciates my efforts even if i’m just sitting with her before her day.  She rarely wants breakfast and likes to touch up her own shirts, so it’s not as if i have much to do besides maybe pour the coffee and bring her iced water.  This morning, she brought me a cup of hot french press, which was really sweet.

i’m exhausted and wish the construction banging would cease.  i can neither focus on my work or nap with all of the banging, even with the window shut and music on.  It’s overstimulating.  i woke myself up by yelling out in my sleep last night, though writing out the nightmare seems to have helped a lot.  i really need to be held tight at night and try to remember what that feels like but it’s lost to the void, like me, in a tangle of astral projection and remembrance.

 

 

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Nightmares

i came to on the dirty floor, immediately aware of the heavy chain locked around my throat.  It was a few feet long, the other end locked around the foot of the bed.  i immediately went frozen with fear.  This was Dawn’s favored method of total control, after all.

i was almost relieved to hear a male grunt.  i hear his belt come off, steel myself, forcing the rage down.  If i fight this, it will be worse.  i can stay calm. i can stay calm.  i can stay-

The buckle side lands on my thigh, my back, and i instinctively move to protect my face and head as best i can.  Breathe.  Focus.  His boot kicks me so hard that i go flying across the floor, the chain gags me, i am dry heaving, needing air in my lungs.  Slow.  Calm. Breathe. Breathe. 

i’m sprawled in an awkward ball, head down, ass up.  The boot shoves my legs apart.  Rough hands, calloused hands, grab me by the shoulders pushing me down and forward, and i get the first glance of his thick arms.  He was the kind of man who was strong, muscular arms and thighs.  He could have made any girl feel safe.  Anyone girl but me, at the moment.

His pants unzip, the smell of sweat and manliness fills the room, making my head sway woozy.  His hands grab my sweaty face, pushing my head down, away from seeing his face in the dim room.  Rage tears spill down my face.  i hope he takes it for fear, that will get this over with faster.  i try and see something, anything of his face, even though it’s useless and doesn’t matter anyway.  His fist finds my face, his fingers are in my mouth.  So many years ago, lifetimes really, i was taught to suck anything placed in my mouth.  It is automatic.  Unavoidable.

He rips my panties off, enters me in one thrust.  i am going to the ceiling, but i don’t want to look down, don’t want to see, divorce myself from my body.  i think of the line from, “Princess Bride,” You can take this body, but it is not mine, and i nearly laugh at the absurdity. i feel haughty, despite the violent rape going on down there, on the floor.

The respite doesn’t last.  It never does.  It feels like a knife has penetrated my ass, and am nearly relieved that it is just his dick.  Breathe. Breathe.  Relax or it will hurt more.  i slowly become dully aware of screaming, and it takes a moment for me to realize the animal sounds are coming from me.  i want him to cum, my face is covered in snot, tears, sweat.  My face is swelling.  i have to stay in my body, the pain is too searing, too hysterical to hover over anymore.  i know that i have to stay in there, on the floor, chained and bleeding.  Maybe its where i belong.  i think of all of the times i have heard lovers tell me that pain and punishment is the only thing i understand, and in quiet places, deep places, i agree.

My acceptance is rewarded with his grunts of satisfaction, with him reentering my cunt, which is drenched with fear.  There is no time to be repulsed.  There is nothing but the weight of his body on mine, the chain taught, the calmness of surrender.  When he comes, after what seems like hours, he collapses for a moment.  When he stands, he makes a satisfied sound, his boot shoves roughly at my battered cunt, making the leather wet.

For the first time, i hear a voice from the corner.  “Enough,” she says, firmly.  The man leaves me, and in seconds i hear the shower is running.  Heels click on the floor.  i can’t see her face.  i can’t look at her face.  i simply curl up around her legs, sobbing that i’m sorry, i’m so sorry, i’m so sorry.   Finally she grabs the chain around my throat, forcing my head up.  “Look at me,” she says.  Her eyes are full of passion, lust.  “This is what I wanted all along, my princess back.  I know you are sorry.  Look at how much you had to worry me before you were back how I met you, how you belong.  This is exactly what you were the first moment i saw you and had to have you.”  She softens then.  Her fingers trace the bruise on my face. Her fingers trace my tears, moving down to my throat, where the chain is still locked.  “Beautiful,” she declares.  She steps away for a moment, places a pill in my mouth and a cold bottle of water in my hands.  i drink greedily, swallow the pill.  She unlocks the length of chain from around the bed frame, holding it in her hand.  “Are you ready to go home, princess?”  And the darkness meets me again before i can answer.

Happy days

Karida and i met up after my doctor’s appointment on Wednesday.  We had a decadent girls day! 😀  First, a tea party at Alice’s Tea House followed by a trip to Dylan’s Candy Bar.  i had never been to Dylan’s Candy Bar before but Karida remembered that I had admired a hello kitty hat in there and wanted me to have a chance to get it.  Unfortunately, they didn’t have that but they did have hello kitty stuff half off.  i got a new metal container to replace my worn out one.  i keep meds in it to be able to more discretely take meds in public but i also think its pretty funny to keep meds in a hello kitty skeleton.  After four years of hard use, the container started popping open.  So i now have a devil kitty because meds are much more fun when i remember my sense of humor, even though its weird.  😀

Thank Goodness for Karida being generally patient with me because i really wanted to know what all of the gummys were and there was a wall of them.  They have coca-cola gummys that are giant sized.  That was the best!  Then we had ice cream for dinner.  Did i mention decadent?  i didn’t get a lot of candy, which is a good thing, with the rest of the day.  i had been very carefully eating, living mostly off of greek yogurt and fruit and hummus.  Then in one day….sugar!  Sugar! sugar!  It was a really happy day, full of girls being girls.

Speaking of happy things, i talked to my doctor and she immediately called in pain meds for me.  In fact, after just looking at me they made space to give me an epidural/blocker injections but when she realized i was still (still!) taking antibiotic she said it was too dangerous and could cause a widespread infection to put a needle in me.  Good thing she wasn’t at the needle demo last weekend when i had multiple needles in me.  0.0  i didn’t think it was that big of a deal.  In fact, the only thing i was concerned about was not being male and needing to demo bottom for a room full of gay men.  i mean, the ladies are impossible to hide so i put them in a pretty bra.  Sir Raven punched in one set of needles, and i moaned and rocked forward in reply.  She said, “It’s a demo girl, not a scene” and delivered another punch, making a satisfied noise when i didn’t moan again.  Heh.

The men were gracious about allowing a femme demo bottom.  Fortunately, many know me and feel comfortable around me and they are genuinely a group of kind men.  i was glad we just were doing needles because i was feeling really shitty last week and didn’t want to let Sir Raven down.

Obviously, i didn’t mention being a human pin cushion last week to the doctor.  In general, i think it’s a good idea to mention S/m casually to health providers, if you feel safe enough to do so.  When i can, or if it is relevant to my care, i do.

Today, Sir Raven invited me to join her at her writers workshop.  i had a lot of reading and work to do for school, so she suggested i join her and work on my laptop while the rest of the group talked.  We shopped first and set up a snack table with fruits, cheeses, crackers, juice, and wine.  The group is always interesting to listen to.  i’m fascinated by writers who can write fiction, though it’s not my forte.  Today, i had to work, but i was happy to hear Sir Raven laughing over Siri reading my textbook.  i felt pretty bad for her on the way there, when my leg went down and i tripped somehow, and ended up sprawled on the street in front of the bus.  i literally couldn’t get up without her help.  i laughed and suggested my day of treats should not be a routine thing if she is going to have to help pick me up off the ground.  Poor baby.  i managed to rip up my knee and can still feel it here and there from falling hard.  Thank God for meds, which allowed me to still enjoy the day and tolerate the hour long ride there and back home.  It’s amazing how liberating it is to not always be worried about the next pain spike.

i go back to the doctor next week for the injections that help cushion in between my vertebra.  The idea, right now, is that i had pinched a nerve when i had my leg go out from underneath me twice in mid December.  i’m so thankful for some things working out and looking up.  😀

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Stages of Change

So, i’m watching these therapy videos for school and the therapist talking suggests that changes occur in these stages:

  1. Denial (because if you deny, you don’t have to change anything).
  2. Resistance (Why do i have to do anything different?)
  3. Exploration(s) (Brainstorming possible solutions)
  4. Action(s)
  5. Commitment

This seems reasonable-but-i think that it leaves out the concept that a change in action can happen independent of being emotionally invested in the process, and that doing said action can result in breaking down the original resistance.

When i am held, or embraced, or climax my body releases oxytocin regardless -even if the other person thought it was not necessary to do those things for me.  Their body releases oxytocin as well.  That prompts ongoing change and, over time, a difference in commitment to the change.

When i smile, it releases anti stress hormones, causing people to smile in return and become more pleasant toward me, which gives me a reason to want to smile.  That whole chain reaction occurs, regardless of if i have to think about it to smile because i’m frustrated or in pain at the moment.  i do this many times a day, and can attest to it working well.

This view of mine does mean that i put up with more stuff from people around me by being kind in reply, by trying to really understand where they are coming from.  But even if i can’t understand it or emotionally empathize, i can still control the energy i bring to the encounter.  i can choose to smile, give affection, spread warmth.  Those things are largely how i am in control, how i experience self control.

Chris commented that Sir Raven may be non communicative to have more power.  If so, it’s not getting her the kind of control and power she seems to want.  If i’m emotionally shut down in some key ways, that does not mean that i quit smiling or hugging her.  What it does mean is i’ve temporarily, at least, taken away access to being hurt by her behaviors.

So, even though it may not feel like it, my new insistence on communicating and being together is an invitation to having more control.

If she can’t access me emotionally, what is she controlling exactly?  The tasks i perform?  The physical location of my body?

When she has had control over those things, but i was quiet and withdrawn emotionally, she missed me.  She told me so.  Therefore, some of the burden is on her to create and sustain changes that will allow us to be connected.

i could not possibly care less if she continues to believe that it was never a problem to not do those things, because investing in our relationship through actions will yield great returns.  It’s a positive cycle, which lends itself to me being able to give and do more for her.  A win-win.

Things that threaten our M/s and overall relationship can’t be ignored if we want a win-win, if we are serious about protecting the property.  It is one thing to have the tools to do a job and quite another to actually use them.  But that is what i think Master and slavery is all about, using tools to build a relationship that gives what is needed and valued.

Coming Together

Yesterday was so busy that i barely had time to fix my hair, quickly reapply make-up, and light candles before Sir Raven got home.

Several hours raced by completing errands and cleaning.  i shop at several stores to save money, which Sir Raven always rolls her eyes at until she sees extra money that is there because of my efforts.  i’ve saved sixty dollars so far this week.  i don’t see time as “mine” and i know Sir Raven appreciates having everything ready for her in the house.

i was wiping down the bathroom again as she came in.  i went like Pavlov’s dog to get her coat but she shooed me because my hands were still full.  i served the wine and water like always, and noted how calm and peaceful the house feels.  This is as a result of my efforts as well, and one of the things i’m tasked with.

i rushed home from the laundry mat to hang up her shirts and put away her clothes and the groceries i had picked up.  At the pharmacy, i rush through as best i can.  Waiting to cross the street, a gaggle of teenaged boys loudly discuss that i’m blind and have a nice ass, as if blindness made me deaf as well.  i ignore it.  Stuff like this is more commonplace than i care to admit.  It speaks not to my beauty but males insecurity in our society, which allows them to sexualize my blindness.  i can only assume that they figure since i can’t see them, they can’t be rejected.  And what is more exciting to most than that idea?

After i ask about Sir Raven’s day and see to her comfort, i ask a question that has been nibbling on me.  It’s taken me time to have my emotions on the topic together to genuinely be able to handle any honest answer.  We manage to have a calm, adult, productive conversation in what could have been treated like an extended game of hot potato with a live bomb.  She tells me to get my floor pillow and come sit by her on the floor.  It’s peaceful.  We talk about the importance of companionship to her, that it is perhaps right under service in terms of her relationship needs.  We are easy companions.

She mentions that in a perfect relationship for her, we would never talk about sex.  i’m a perfectionist and this is how she shut me up for two years on the topic.  It’s one of the many ways i’ve turned myself inside out for her.

It makes me uncomfortable that i get male and female attention on the regular, everywhere but where i actually want it.  Need it.  i calmly point out the various ways the lack of a show of passion, the lack of expressing desire, the lack of appreciating what is beautiful or special about me, has resulted in the slow death of a part of me.  i try to find a way to explain how sex is a part, but so is s/m, acts of intimate service (washing her, cleaning her boots), and the overwhelming lack of her honest expression of something beautiful about me or my service.

i don’t require a lot.  i know this because i’ve often been rebuked in other relationships for not needing enough attention, reacting uncomfortably to passion in public, stuff like that.

i also know she is making an effort.  There is always pleasure expressed at my cooking, there always has been.  A few times over the last month she has thought to compliment me, which i appreciate.

i think she understands more of my point of view, that if i’m constantly dealing with someone who is cranky, ignoring, and negative-i shut down in reply.  It’s not personal to her.  i just stop having the full range of emotions and keep my head down and work.  That detracts from our ability to have good conversations, my silly banter resulting in laughter daily, the female and soft girl energy she enjoys from me.   For the first time in four and a half years, i’m insisting she participate.

i might feel shitty about myself as a slave, but the woman in me is dying, the girl in me is dying, and i see how wide-open and vulnerable its left me to not be taken care of emotionally.  i see how easy it was to love bomb me.   i recognize that i’m more vulnerable than even the average person, because i tend to believe what people say in a literal fashion.  My natural nature is to be a passive person.  And i can no longer trust my instincts, which had never let me down in my entire life before this last year.  The only thing i’ve ever had total faith in was trusting my intuition, my gut instincts.  That got destroyed and the loss is nothing less than devastating.

It’s not that i need compliments that focus on me, really, but more that what is good and working well in our relationship is validated.  That shared feelings are expressed in some manner.  Something has to be put in rather than indifference (true hatred), aloofness, and criticism.

i can’t say that i’m sorry that i had to go away.  i am truly sorry that it hurt her.  It became a “Protect the Property” situation for me.  i think coming home and being very physically sick leaves me with a lot to juggle.  It’s hard to function in a month long series of infections and medicines, but function i must.  It feels like some penalty from the Universe for living outside of my own values, allowing myself to be trapped and abused.  It’s ironic that people who call me a bitch, a cunt, a disease, crazy take exception to me pointing out that their constant blow ups caused me stress and forced me to shut down the soft parts of me.  If you tell me that you focus on diplomacy and a sense of justice-i’m going to believe that.  i surely was not prepared to deal with tantrums after being abused already to such a low that i wanted to disappear.  It wasn’t necessary to treat everything like it was a secret, leaving me to have no idea why there was anger in the house.

All i can say is that people who live in glass houses should never throw rocks.  i’ve put up with all of the door slamming, crying, lies, abuse, and abandonment that i’m going to in this lifetime.  i’ve put up with people who found fault with others who take sums of my money help themselves to thousands of my dollars.  i’ve put up with people who claim family is everything but rewrite history.  i’ve stood in between my last explosive situation, ready to use my body as a shield.  i’ve provided love and adoration, gifts and sentiments, and received less, received nothing.  No more.

This steely resolve is mine.

i’m still me and will continue to daily offer love in every language-affection, prayers, meditations, time, gifts, honest and positive communication and random acts of kindness.  i will not let myself be destroyed again.  i deserve the same things in return that i put out.  i’ve built good karma while people who should know better destroyed their own by mistreating the light in me.  i am not darkness; i just accept and embrace it in others.  i will never become darkness.  i will never destroy light.

 

Hello Kitty

This is my morning picture.  i went to bed last night, hours after Sir Raven slept.  i kept thinking i was hearing noises and was freaked out about seeing an enormous, subway sized mouse.  i remembered my kitty friends, that slept in my bed every night over the summer.  Well, two of the three slept with me at night.  Mini slept near my bed but away from the boys.  Since we don’t have any cats to chase away the very scary mouse, i have to hope that it thinks i’m a giant kitty.

Sir Raven is afraid of mice too.  i try and push my agenda of needing a dog at times like these.  Every time i ask for a cat, she reminds me we have a spirit cat that runs about here.  A dog could protect me too.  Right?!

i woke up early with Sir Raven but even at 6:30, i remembered to take music to blast in the kitchen while i made french press.  Sir Raven was a kindly Master yesterday and didn’t send me out in the cold for half and half.  We had black coffee-ugh.  i have a busy day planned-laundry mat, pharmacy, grocery, and writing a long paper for one of my classes.  The morning chores and done, i’m dressed and ready, just waiting for the half of a pain pill to make the stabbing pains stop so i can get on with the day.

The last time i wore kitty ears, it was to celebrate-birthday, love, life.  i’m glad i have pictures.  Otherwise, i could easily believe it was all a dream, like all of the other dreams i had of them over the years.  Glimpses of the future.  Now, when i dream of them i see my ankles chained in shackles.  It is strangely soothing, despite the all too real kidnapping in my past.  i don’t know what to make of the dreams.

Time to focus on my lists.  i’ve been up since 6:30, so there is a lot crossed off already.  That is a great way to start the day.

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trying to reach me

i don’t have time to deal with the layers of pain inside of me.  There are more people that i have to love from a deep distance than people still in my life.  i grew up with a woman who would constantly remind me, “I could walk away from anyone and never look back.”

i will go to tremendous lengths to not be her.  So, when i’m hurt or confused, i will do something extra nice for people i love.  i may cook a special meal, run a hot bath, buy something to make them smile.  i think i’m always trying to prove my love, my dedication.  And i don’t know why i always have to prove or remind people who i am.  Sometimes, it is painfully easy for people to take out their rage on me, knowing full well i will continue to love them.

i notice that i’ve often gotten the raw deal, in terms of people feeling safe enough to vent onto me.  i’m that unflappable.

Sometimes, the loss of loved ones fills me with incredible pain.  There are times that i feel my youngest nephews baby body against my skin.  The first time, i freaked out and thought he may have died.  Nowadays i think he needs mommy love, to be nurtured, and remembering the perfect way we fit together makes him astrally project into me.  i cherish that.

Sometimes, i am very upset to suddenly hear the music my mother is playing.  It’s like somehow she can still connect and i have to work to break that cord again.

Sometimes, i smell people i love and it fills me with a sense of longing.

It’s an effort for me to not withdraw into myself when i feel like i can’t please anyone, can’t reach anyone.  i’m not angry.  i’m trying to figure out how to reconnect.  Somehow, Sir Raven thinks i was “running things” in my other relationships because i knew how to reach them-emotionally, physically, sexually.  Frankly, i wasn’t running shit.  At all.  i shy far away from people if i even have a hint that i might be able to control the relationship.  Very few people who aren’t Alpha types are attracted to me anyhow.  So, no, i wasn’t running anything.  What mattered, and matters, to me is to be able to connect deeply and be able to reach the people i love.  i’ve reached out angry, frustrated, confused-but reached out.  Only people who never loved me won’t let me reach them.  Or so it seems.

Sir Raven is trying to be more affectionate.  i think she finally gets that my body has been going through infection after infection since November.  i’m on my fourth round of antibiotic.  Ear infection, sinus infection, bladder infection, and finally a specialist.  He said that he did not see a hole in the ear but there was a lot of fluid in my middle ear, that the sinus pressure was causing the constant pain.  It’s so blocked he is waiting four weeks to be able to do the hearing test.  i’m unsure if the constant fever is related to this latest infection or is my fibro responding with its own hell.

 

i got to see Sir Raven’s branch and am tremendously proud of her and her work, as always.  She was kind enough to let me get a venti flat white at Starbucks.  She had us take a cab home after the ENT, such luxury.  It’s nice that i know how to get to her work on the bus.  i took half of a pain pill that morning, was ready to leave before she was, and was happy because the pain was down around a 5.  i could move.  Function.  i pointed out why, and that i really need the medicine.

i can’t have my life continue to be about a daily battle with pain, trying to focus, having to work ten times harder because i’m stuck in a haze of pain.  i see my pain management doctor Wednesday.  i’m praying she will help me out, do what is right, give me a life again before i loose everything.

This morning, Sir Raven surprised me by asking what i wanted to do.  i thought a walk in the botanical garden together would be lovely, and its very close to home so i don’t have to feel guilty.  She is tired and the day is cold.  We end up staying inside, so i got a ton of homework done.

i am still trying to unwind, relax.  i wore my hello kitty pajamas today, and added my hello kitty ears to complete the outfit.  Good damn thing-there was a gigantic fucking rat in the kitchen.  i’m terrified of rats and mice.  The kitchen was already cleaned, thank God.  i had to go back in there to make Sir Raven’s quesidillas and avecado.  Now i’m freaked out because i’m hearing noises in the kitchen.  Argh!  Sir Raven is asleep and i’m afraid that it will run out here.  i am hoping if i wear kitty ears, he will think i’m a giant cat and be scared too.

How am i supposed to sleep now?!?