1950’s

At the last MAsT meeting, I was asked by someone what my slave did for a living? I said she works from home. Now I’m not sure if it is that people don’t listen or that it’s a man thing, but he replied it must be nice for slaves to stay home 1950 style?

Humm, was all I could reply and then I excused myself.

Here’s the thing, I don’t know about 1950 style, I knew what he meant, but I’m a woman of color and all of the women in my family worked. My mom and aunts had it better than my grandmother and great-grandmother. But even they worked.

My Great Grand owned a farm and from her I learned about farming, apple and peach trees, beans, potatoes, strawberries. chickens for eggs and a cow. Which we milked. Us children picked all of this and learned how to pickle, and can. My Great Gran made her own bread and other baked goods which she sold. We even churned butter, none of this is as glamorous as it looks on TV. She also was a mean seamstress, which was passed on to my Grandmother.

Speaking of which.

My Grandmother would take us kids most Fridays (and by us kids  I mean the “girls”) down to 34th street, we would walk through Macy’s and she would look at every dress in that place. (which might be why I have such an aversion to the place).

When she was finished  we would go to El Barrio to the material stores, where every woman that worked there knew her.  After, we would buy fresh fish and meats from the different vendors and head home.While we seasoned the meat and put things away my Grand would start cutting  brown paper into a pattern. For the rest of the weekend, while we were there she would be in her room cutting and sewing. By Monday, she would have the dresses we saw in the window or in the store.

Her living room was where she entertained and wore he new digs, it was also her showroom. Red crushed velvet chairs with gold backing, plush pillows on the couch, and mirrors on the walls. A beautiful chandelier hung from the ceiling (growing up I hated that thing. each crystal had to come off and be cleaned) There were times women were there getting fitted and trying on their new dress that my Grand made for them. As I grew up I learned that my Gran wanted to be an interior designer, but couldn’t, I also found out that my Great Gran wanted to be a fashion designer, but couldn’t. Us children were encouraged to continue to be excellent students, keep our heads in books and learn all we could.

It may appear from this master’s point of view life for women, were roses and wine in the 1950’s and maybe it was for some. Wax on poetically about it. But for the women in my family (and I suspect other women of color) that were born before the greatest generation became the greatest generation it was always about finding a way to live their dream. My mom and aunts had it better than their grandmother and mother, and although I am a child born in the 1960’s I had it better than they did. But “better” is relative. My girl, my slave who works from home does just that. Work. Any master who thinks that keeping and making a home for them is easy and keeping a clean home is easy is an idiot. Does he think that it’s magic that food appears in that magical box called the frig in the kitchen?

I guess out of sight out of mind applies for this master. For me, I know the work that my slave does in our home. and that doesn’t include the times I call up and request something.

So, here’s the thing. It may “appear” that we have a 1950’s dynamic, but I am well aware of the work that goes into that.

She’s a full-time student and has already cleaned the house, done laundry, rode the bus to pick up her medicine, shopped for food and started cooking. I’ll call up in the middle of the day and say. “let’s have sandwiches for dinner.” As I approach the door I’ll smell  the stew chicken she had started to prepare earlier in the day, the house smells good. But you know what we are having sandwiches, and in the morning she’ll hand me my lunch. Stew chicken and rice. 🙂

It ain’t easy working from home.

PS

I know why this master has this view, I invite you to do a google image search on black working women in the 1950’s.

High Shine

This past weekend the girl and I got to schmooze with some movers and shakers. There’s a great project that I’m a part of called

“We Are Leather Women” the photographer Carmella put together an event  of brunch and then we all went to Cinkink to view a documentary High Shine 15 years of IMsLBB. The International Ms. Leather and Book Black is a contest out of California that goes on during the International Ms. Leather contest. During brunch, we go to meet a lot of the bootblacks in the doc. Bootblacks came from all over Philly, Atlanta, Chicago and Cali as well  as the NY bootblacks. We even had a few of our brethren title holder come out to support. It was good to see some people I haven’t seen for a long while. The conversation was as great as the food and it was well worth getting up to leave the house at 7:30 am. The girl was charming as usual and it was good to see her strike up conversations with people she didn’t know and learning about what they do in the community. It was important since there hasn’t been anything like this in NY for a good long time. I love bootblack and this was the right kind of encouragement the girl needed. Hearing from other people that because she is legally blind she could never hope to care for leathers. Screw that noise!

Screw that noise!

It was also nice to see Kardia mingle with folks as well, I’m glad she didn’t run away last year, if she had we would have lost a friend and our family wouldn’t have a bootblack of our own.

After brunch, we all headed over to the theatre for the screening. It was a great history lesson on bootblack and female bootblacks, in particular. After the showing, we had a lovely walk back to the train station and had a lovely Saturday evening dredged having to go to MAsT Sunday. But we were up bright and early for that. The day was long, but I’m glad we went the girl had more than a mouth full to say. There was a young lady who really needed help and as per our MAsT group the slaves rallied. That’s what is so important about groups like MAsT, it’s not about learning a skill of throwing a whip but the skill of how we live our M/s.

As with every Monday for us introverts after  MAsT we both were fired.It  snowed the night before and the girl was out of smokes, so I went out to get her some and check on just how much snow was still on the ground. The sidewalks were clear, but the streets and curbs were treacherous. Making the decision for the girl to stay in, she reminded me that laundry had to be done. That was vetoed along with getting wine or other necessities.

When I got home at 8pm I did my usual which is, wait by the door for the girl to take my coat. Nothing, I realized that she was sleeping it had been a long weekend and although I could smell candles I knew she did her chores in the house and  needed rest.

Poor baby girl.

The Christmas plan

I so very rarely post that when I went to fulfill my commitment to post once a month, yes I know it’s the last day of January. I’m the master I said I would post once a month, I didn’t say when. 🙂 Low and behold I had written something after the girl’s first Christmas here. You all have to thank slave Morgaina (check out her blog in the blogroll) for that. She loved an old post of mine. Thanks.

So as everyone knows here in America it’s Christmas, which is the bane of my year. The great thing about this season is that it is the first time the girl and I are together. Last year she was in FL and I was here and we didn’t know each other, or rather I knew of her.

I’ve heard many a stories of her Christmas past. So being the mastermind that I am I put my plan into action, I was determined to give her a little Christmas cheer. As was written before we went to midtown to buy a gift for my co-worker and the secret Santa debacle. But that wasn’t true I really went there to buy the girl a gift. Which turned out to be a bit much, but she deserves it, with all that she does and brings to my life. I thought I would have a hard time sneaking the gifts into the house last night, but when I got in she was out at the store. A Christmas gift for me, I was able to hide my booty and spend the evening with her, knowing I didn’t have to work the next day.

I promised to play Christmas music for her in the morning, and send her off to bed, placing her gifts with our Yule bush. This morning we got up as usual and she made coffee while I on the other hand got my camera ready to take her picture when she saw the gifts.

Here’s the thing. I’m always telling her I can see, but on the flip side I also forget that she can’t see as well as me. so when she past the Yule Bush twice, twice I say I couldn’t believe she said nothing. I had all the gift stacked up nice and wrapped, I might add. She handed me my coffee and sat down. In silence,as is our usual morning ritual we sipped our coffee and I played Christmas music for her. That’s when it hit me, ah she can’t see the gifts. “Open your gifts, it’s Christmas!” And she did, surprise that I would have Christmas for her.

So it’s Christmas here in our little home, and it’s a good thing. Hope it’s a good thing in yours?

 

 

 

Slave circle

The post below was written way back when the girl made her final move and came back to me. The draft was saved January 7, 2013.

Sunday was the first real (by real I mean she was here to stay) MaST meeting the girl, and I attended together. She has attended two in the past, one on abuse in a M/s relationship the other was our group’s annual party. But this meeting she had the opportunity to have the benefit of experiencing the slave circle. Which we in the master circle think is like being in the mob. The wall of silence is deafening, as well it should be. I’m glad that she is making friends and talking with people. I make it a point to introduce her, but most times I forget and folks have been really nice to introduce themselves and chat her up.

One thing that I admire about her is her integrity to keep someone’s confidence even when it comes to me. A certain someone that she met through me was having a hard time, and they were able to talk with her about it. When I inquired about it she answered all my questions about how they were doing, but when I asked about a certain topic, she didn’t lie about what they talked about, but instead made mention what she liked about the slave circle at a MaST meeting. I got the inference, basically mind my beeswax. And that was the end of that conversation. I didn’t press her and really didn’t want to, but was kinda proud that even with me she would stick to her guns on certain matters.

So, yep the slave circle has infiltrated my home.

We talked later about the meeting, and I was glad to hear she enjoyed it. I know that she had been told on occasion in the past that a person is not a slave with out a master, although I’m not sure if that held true by those folks for the flip side? In any event I look forward to attending the meetings with her and maybe by the summer she’ll have something to say, since lord knows she has an opinion.

Although we live in a big city you would think we’d have opportunities flowing out the wazoo? But there are very few if little to none opportunities for those of us living this dynamic. Sure there are plenty of parties and places where you can see what I like to call the “show” or the “shiny stuff” that keeps folks entertained. But you hardly come across folks other then at MaST that walk the talk.

I’ve often thought of creating a group for masters invite only to come together and fellowship outside of MaST. But then I think if you come to a meeting and don’t find at least one person you can talk with outside of MaST then you may not be trying hard enough. It’s still something I’m thinking about.

Do not try, Do

It’s been a while and although I was on a roll I’ve not given up writing.

The girl and I have been through some rough times that we are still putting behind us. It’s difficult be doable. We have stuck to our rituals and have been really moving forward on our journey. This month she’s been a buying machine, as I’ve written.here

We have been taking care of some other things last month and this month, which I didn’t think we could be did. We have contributed to some writing projects, continue to do our part at our MAsT meetings all the while focusing on our personal goals. She in the master’s program, which I’m so proud of. And yes that means I’ll be more of a hard ass on her managing her time and assignments, she maybe in the master’s program but I’m the master’s program that she’s in. 🙂

I’m working in my new job position, kicking ass and taking names, thank goodness I had the experience of the fake “community” that taught me a thing or two. I’ve never been one to want to be the Queen bee and I have no interest in puffing up my chest acting as if I’m something I’m not. I learned a long time ago how to lead by following. Yes it sounds odd that a master would use this term, but it works for me at times.

I lead by following the suggestions my slave gives at times, she has great suggestions. The same holds true for my work place, I make it a point to encourage ideas from the staff I work with, and because of that( after they got over the shock that I was the lets try it supervisor) we are doing great things.

This past weekend the girl and I spent a great Saturday together “talking” and sick in bed all day Sunday, we watched the remake of Carrie. The Goddess gives and takes it away. It was all good, we did spend a lot of time in bed together. Monday we were alot better and spent the evening watching the original Carrie. Good times.

Since January I was starting to feel like would couldn’t, but as one of my mentors use to say can’t is an animal that will not try. And as Yoda would say, do not try do.

Yep that’s us Doing!

Master, Sir, Daddy

The other night while the girl and I were sitting around talking about last year, I made mention that I was going to be doing some things different this year. Not that there’s much change that happens in our home often, but, I believe much of my thought process has been on the daddy side. It’s time to change that, not that I’m not willing to be a daddy, her daddy, but I have to be more aware of when it’s time to be bad daddy and not really give a fuck.

This year she will get back to doing yoga

We will have more rituals during the day

We will have a more ritualistic beginning middle and end of our week

This doesn’t mean that I want to micro manage her, because god knows that is a pain in the ass and not the good pain either, but given the situation of the past few months I think it’s best to keep the leash pulled tight. Hence the not give a fuck.

I’ve been thinking a lot about daddy and bad daddy. I’ve come to terms with this term, this title and although I always knew it came with certain responsibilities which I don’t have a problem with. It also comes with some other things like, when to be a good daddy and when to bad daddy. The year is still young, and I’m working it out in my head.

The girl never calls me Master, and I never asked her to. She’s only called me that twice that I can recall. Once she was pissed at what someone crossed the line and did. Referring to me as her Master and the second time was when she was getting an ass whipping, which didn’t stop her getting an ass whipping.

In a public place she refers to me as Sir.

In private she calls me daddy.

I look at myself as all of these three things. As her Master the one she is in consent, non-consensual relations with, the one who steers our household and her daily life. As her daddy, I’m nurturing, silly and at times affectionate. Daddy is the one who goes to midtown in December after work to buy her a little Christmas tree because she never had a real Christmas. As her Sir, I’m more of a drill sergeant, this needs to get done make it happen. Breath through whatever shit is going on in your head and make it happen, but now that I’m writing about it that sounds like bad daddy. But with all three I’m still her protector, guide and her shoulder to cry on.

I often wonder if the “s” types ever think who the “m” types go to too have a cry?

Just some thoughts, trying to start a new ritual, writing more.

 

Sunday

Before  the girl and I got together she asked me to promise not to feel like I had to treat her differently because of her fybro. I could not make that promise because I think it’s a bit un-fair to ask someone to promise them something. I’m not a magic 8 ball, I don’t know the future.  What I can promise it to do the best I can as the time that I can do. Will I make mistakes? Yep. Will I feel frustrated? Yep. Will I not want to talk every detail down to its minuet detail? Yep. I’m human, just like her. I never pray for patience because that would be tempting the faiths to put situations in my path to work on patience, I’d much rather have a life that unfold the way it does. And life has me working on being more patience, along with all that happens in life.

On a side note there are some things I’ve learned from other masters:

1. Never make a rule for you slave; you are not going to follow up on

2. Never give a command you are not will to accept the outcome and

3. Never enforce a punishment that you can’t live with

All of these will affect you, and if you’re not willing to be effected in any of the ways you’ve mastermind, don’t put it in place. Or at the very least be willing to admit it’s not working and think of something else.

To that end I’ve learned that slaves are by nature willing to please. Here,she writes what she needs to and I never sensor her, but of late it read to me like she was holding back. I made mention that I wanted to find a way for to write without holding back which I was thinking she was doing a bit. I was thinking of several options. One was to letting her write what she needed to here, after all the reason for this is to have a place where the good the bad and the ugly can be shared. In a way,it didn’t matter to me who reads this blog, (although I do consider the anonymity of others). It’s about having something else on the internet that is not fantasy and sex, and that’s not heterosexual.  This is real life people. And at times real life hurts, and not in a good way. So the girl created a space for her to write by invitation only then asked me several times if I got the email that would allow me access. For me a large part of mastery and slavery is about control. As you can guess by now that her setting up something for herself on one level is not a bad thing, but as she did it before I could get back to her about what I had in mind, well there’s the problem.  Because of her willfulness and not waiting, I have to now make a decision. My problem since now, I have to decide what to do. Do I let her keep this private space to write? Do I have her keep it up until I come up with something different? Do I have her take it down? I could just turn my head and act like it’s not there, but that would not do our dynamic any good, it serves the girl and not the dynamic.

Today’s theme song