How much privacy does a slave have? (REPOST)

A few months back I was looking for blog ideas and I received some great suggestions!  One of them was the question “How much privacy does a slave have?”  Thank you to MyNameIsMine!!!!!

The easy answer is none.

 The more complex answer is as much as the Master decides they have- which in essence is none because ultimately the Master can take away that privacy at any moment. 

It is important to keep in mind that there are different types of privacy, I tend to lump them into three different categories: privacy of things, privacy of the body and privacy of the mind. 

As far as privacy of things I have no interest in riffling through my slaves stuff, monitoring her correspondence, or listening in on her phone calls. she does have her own room, were she keeps her belly dance attire and her herbs and sundries.  That room is hers, she can care for it as she sees fit, and I lay no claim to it.  I have no interest in that, and in fact, feel a certain amount of pride that I can provide that space for her. I know her email passwords, and have access to all correspondence, but don’t use it unless I am looking for something- a phone number, directions, or the like.  And I will tell her that I am accessing her account and which one.  

Why?  Because my slave likes to buy me presents when we have a little extra coin- and sometimes she will need to access things herself to keep me from finding my next present. I have no issue getting presents, so this does not bother me. On the flip side, she also has access to all of my email as well. It isn’t uncommon that I will need her to contact someone for me -as me. 

As far as bodily privacy, my preference is that she is nude, especially during chores, so she spends most of her time that way.  I REALLY love that…. I also track her medications because I order then before they run out, so I know what she takes, how much and how often.

That leaves privacy of the mind, which in my opinion is the only kind that matters. The rest of privacy is relatively easy- it is space, stuff, geography, tangible, and visible. But not so with emotional privacy- that is a huge risk. That is where the heart of the slave lies.

 Emotional and intellectual privacy can be very invasive when taken away because it is such a risk to let someone know what you are really feeling and thinking.  It risks everything. It means that when I ask her what she is thinking and feeling, that she tells me, even when she doesn’t want to, or is afraid to say those things. Afraid of my reaction, afraid of what I will think of her, afraid of what she will think of herself once the words are out of her mouth.

The issue of privacy is a very personal one for every Master and for every slave. It has to do with where that Master feels their connection to power; do they feel empowered by having control over the slaves stuff? Over the slaves body, or being a part of the slaves mind?  For some Masters, stuff is enough- they get off on controlling everything from what the slave reads, has access to, and can use in the home. I once heard a Master talk about how their power came from limiting and approving each correspondence that the slave had- from their phone calls, to email- to letters. For others their power comes from the slave’s body, this can  include everything from what the slave eats, wears and how they move.

But for me those things are the window dressing. For me, what is the point of telling my slave what to wear, when what I really need to know is that she is struggling with how she views herself as a slave, as a leader and as a wife. 

Window dressing…….  better on windows.

AMG or "Ah Miii Gawd”

The first meeting of the Albuquerque Masters group was amazing. I am still thinking out the title,  for the moment I call it the AMG-  which I think can  go either way because it is a little too close to “Ah Miii Gawd”! Like the valley girls used to say in the 80’s. 

When I lived in   Florida I was invited to a private Dominants group.  I was told that it was a big deal because I was a woman and that was rare. The group was a collection of about 4 other men, it only went for a month or so, and overall it seemed like no one really knew how to talk candidly. There felt to be a lot of bluster and one guy who really liked to hear himself talk. It was not a great experience, but one that I have kept in the back of my mind, as it had gotten me to thinking.

Is it possible to have a Masters group that is open, honest, and candid?

Is it possible to have a Masters group where we all recognize that everyone has something to learn and something to teach?

 Is it possible to have a Masters group that is welcoming to new people, and accepting to people whose ideas are different from many of ours? For example- Gore.

If you want to be cocky you can say sure it’s possible, anything is possible.  But is it reasonable? Masters are used to being heard, we are used to being listened to. We as a rule are used to being the ones that control or at the very least direct the conversation, so  a group  of people  with control  issues tends not to listen  very well.  

So I came into this with a few goals.

1) Everyone needs a chance to talk and have their comments or questions heard.

2) That people feel comfortable to talk about the reality of their M/s instead of the convoluted theories that people think it should be.

3) That people won’t get caught in one upping each other.

I also knew that a lot of these things were going to fall on me as the moderator. So at one point I just closed my eyes and said “ok let’s do this thing.”

We met at Page one and the woman that had the room were finishing late. The Masters group was very punctual and ready to go in so people started getting restless, but overall we held it together until we could get in and get comfortable.

I have to say that it was an amazing group of people;   everyone seemed really vested in each others thoughts and processes. There were a few tense times, but that is to be expected, and I really felt that everyone worked really hard to stay grounded, candid, and open. It was a joy to see Masters really listening to each other, and differing points of view being debated.

Also, because how the meeting was structured people had a chance to be heard   and that for me was huge, people were even asking each other, "does that answer your question?"

How cool is that!

So now I am working on next month, I am  so  glad to say that we have a few host houses set up-  than k you so much to Baby Bear and DT !!!!!!! So I am starting to prep for the BBQ and potluck training time of which I am really excited about.

I am also taking a moment to just sit and smile. 

It’s working. I can’t believe its working.

This all seems surreal.

It is now Monday morning at about 1 am. By the time I post this it will be Friday morning and if everything goes as smoothly as it has been we will have done the walk through in the new house and have closed the next day. So here I am waiting for this week to unfold, and I am not happy per Se as much as melancholy, reflective, pensive, and removed. I know that in about nine hours I will be doing the walk through followed by wiring the money to the bank. I know that in about 34 hours I will be closing on the new house- but this all seems surreal.

On Tuesday June 18^th I turned to my slave and said that I was done. I couldn’t do this anymore, that I didn’t know where we were going to land, but we couldn’t keep  doing  what we were doing and I  had reached my breaking point. Rightfully so, she was stunned, but never once said non and a fter a few minutes, she thoughtfully said OK.

A few days after that my slave  wrote about our situation  on Facebook and a few days after that we met our new realtor Beth Beaver who specializes in the East Mountains. So here  we are literally six weeks after that decision was made and we are closing on our new home and re looking at what our future can hold.

I am starting to get sad and frustrated about some things. I will miss my 5 acres as we go down to 2.5 . I will miss the green as it will take some time to build up the land; I will miss the feeling of solitude as our new neighbors will be in sight, and the openness of our current house as the new one is about 200 sq feet less, with a more closed floor plan.  

I am angry at this house, at myself, at the people that should have had our best interest at heart and failed us, I am angry. I am scared that I am putting all of this effort forth and in one year my slave and I will be in the same boat that we are here. I try to remind myself that we are making different decisions. That Beth knows her stuff right down to the subdivision and  that she has out best interest at heart. I know that we are going way below what we can really afford, and that we know so much more now than we did before.

I keep trying to reassure myself that this move will mean a difference for us, and that I shouldn’t feel so sad and frustrated. I should feel grateful, happy, and joyful, I should feel all sorts of things like relief, and relaxation- and yet here I am - unable to sleep at one am - waiting for – well- something.

I know that logically any move from where we are now will be a good thing. I know that logically this has brought about a massive amount of community and loved ones support and that should be my focus.  I know that logically in time I will adjust to less land and less house, but will smile when I see my horses well fed and feet trimmed. 

I know that logically this all makes sense- I am just waiting for the rest of me- literally the rest of me- to get there to. 

I can only hope about where we will be in a year, two years from now. That is what is getting me through the now- the hope that the future will be so much better than the last four years. I hold on to that with what strength and resolve I have left.

 The hope that I will be able to give back instead of having my hand out, the hope that my slave will never have another winter with no heat, or one more day with  an empty  pantry. The hope that I will never see the horses ribs again, the hope that I can reclaim my sense of dignity and self worth. 

Perhaps that is what scares me the most- if this doesn’t work- who will I be? What will I be left with? How can I rebuild if this doesn’t work? And I don’t mean my finances or my credit score, I mean myself. This house has striped me of who I thought I could be, and this move is putting all of that on the line- my sense of worth as a person ,as a lesbian ,as a Master. So the thought of failing now is the thought that I could loose every sense of myself that ever mattered to me.    

Come to think of it- with all of that on the line- maybe I am holding up pretty ok……. 

When my slave hurts

I wonder how other Masters handle it when their slaves are going through something really hard.   I know that logically it probably runs the gambit from the Master who feels that the slave’s only duty is for the Masters use and   the slaves internal workings are none of the Master s concern. All the way on the other end of the spectrum to those Masters that want to know where their slave is emotionally so they can be a part of their slaves emotional growth, and health. 

Guess which one I am……

My slave went to a class recently on sensuality expecting to come away renewed and full of loving and sexual energy.  Instead she walked away really messed up. I mean it really did a number on her. What little sleep she gets is full of nightmares and she whimpers and moans. She is exhausted and needing a lot of reassurance that this is not  in her head-  that  this really was a bad experience that she is having to now sort through and deal  with. It will take time and her own emotional work for her to heal before she is OK again in a whole sense.  During her time of re- centering, re-grounding, and healing I work extra hard to create a safe space for her both emotionally and physically. 

As she talks through her process it is really hard for me to put my feeling of anger and protection aside so that she can feel heard.  There are times when I do ask to change the subject because I get so angry I can’t support her, and I know that is what she needs more then my anger. 

She is working through  it, one day at a time, one  experience at  a time,  one emotion at a time,  and I walk beside her, holding her hand , watching over her to comfort her as she sleeps,  kissing her tears, and  listening.... listening.  I am making sure that she rests, that she drinks and eats and takes her daily mediation, so that she can focus on healing.

I hold her and care for her now as she has endlessly done for me.  She will heal  and move forward in life, she works hard to do that,  but for the moment I make every effort to show that she is worth more to me then just her service,  that all of her matters. 

I am so deeply angry at the facilitators of that workshop. They were in my opinion dangerous, destructive, reckless, and so based in ego that they couldn’t teach shit out of a horse. I sent my slave to them for healing and enlightenment and she came back fractured and hurtling. And I am angry about it.  

The facilitators paired up  strangers who had NO knowledge of each other and  were told to tell the stranger in  front of them  "this is what  what I want you to do to me, tell me what you want me to do to you".   There was no discussion about or  consideration  or respect for sexual  orientation- body size preference- vanilla or kink desire, or ethnicity preference. The "facilitators"  shut down peoples real  emotions, told people to "shake off"  (like that is even  possible)  how they feel , and asked people to be extremely sexually  and emotionally vulnerable and then  told them to move on to the next person. They did not allow the group to laugh-  yes facilitators shut down  laughter. The room  was hot the air conditioner was turned off because it was loud and a door was not opened, and the two pitchers of room  temperature water did not even  come close to stopping people from  wilting.  

They are people that love hearing themselves talk, love thinking that they know it all, that they are the most advanced people, that they are so “progressive” that they can tell others how and what to feel, and what those feelings  mean - and you better not argue, because if you argue you just aren’t as “progressive” as they are.

They can kiss my big fat ass.  They are the worst kind of people - so based in ego that nothing else matters to them except to say that they taught a workshop.

 I am angry.  I am hurting for my wife and slave who works on body image and sensuality every day. I am pissed that theses assholes made money off of others and had no idea what they were doing. And  if  they  are told about how the workshop  really went-  it is my guess that these dick wads will simply say-  ohh that person wasn’t “engaged”  wasn’t “evolved” wasn’t “ready for our kind of intensity”.

 You want intensity asshole?

Meet you in the parking lot.  I have intensity for you……. 

OK - now I can go back to listening.

My Mistress- the House

The other day my slave and I were preparing for our upcoming move when my slave said “this is like getting out of a bad relationship.” I laughed and thought how true, our current house has become like a very abusive mistress in more ways than one.  As we are preparing to move and start a new phase in our lives just how much this house was a bad relationship has started to sink in.

Ahh!!!!    In the beginning my Mistress “the house” and I talked so many dreams together. We planned our future talking of putting flowers in her front yard, me going back to school, and who knows maybe even a baby or two. The picture she painted was one of early retirement and relaxation. Lazy days filled with love, sex, play, horses, parties, family and friends. I would get her the deck that she always wanted, and she would support me going back to school for my Masters degree, she would get new flooring and I would be able to teach horses for next to nothing, she would get a paint job and I would write my book.

The birds sang every time we were together, the squirrels appeared and the wild bunnies applauded our new found love.  Oh how the sun shined up my ass, and it felt good up there.

It wasn’t long before her jealousies began to make themselves known. I remember our first spat, I was filling up the new waterbed and the water ran out.  I thought, this is just a glitch, a misunderstanding, we can work this out, but it was not to be. She felt that I wasn’t paying her enough attention that I was looking at other houses on the side, so she made more demands, as the kitchen sink exploded, and the dish washer stopped working.    She wanted more, so to make her happy I worked two jobs and over time to outfit her with new siding and a roof. 

The more I gave the more she wanted, and although it seemed like she was being legitimate and sincere in her demands, even regretful at how much I was working, the demands still came. Any time that she felt that my attention or focus was not on her she would explode and run out of water, the septic ran over, the stove, washer and dryer all went out at the same time. 

It was when she needed more money then what I could possibly make no matter how many hours I put in-- that I thought - maybe she would see what she was asking and want less, or need less, or support me more. But no- her desires were not to be denied and over time became impossible to satiate.  The bills mounted into three piles: payable, not payable and about to be shut off.

Finally I realized that I had given her my all, my time, my health, my blood, sweat, tears and sacrifice. At that point I came to realize that my house the Mistress was never going to be happy, she was never going to be fulfilled. My Mistress the house was going to take and take  until there was nothing left- and then she would only blame me for her unhappiness and unpainted walls. She would blame me for fulfilled promises and the lack of raised flower beds. All the while my own dreams had long been put aside under the strain of her need for attention time, money and more money.

When I started knowing it was time to move on I had my fears. What if my next house didn’t love me like she loved me? What if I am just overreacting and am really going from bad to worse? What if I am a failure and no matter what house I am with I will always fail?

What if the real problem was me?

When the new house came, she came with soft words and promises, and I was scared. My old Mistress had made promises to. But the new house, she has said that I can do this on my own time, and my own way. The new house has already proven her ability fulfill promises, and to provide support, and although I am afraid and cautious and not ready to emotionally commit all of the way. The new house is not pressuring me to. She has guided me gently, letting me cry, and be angry, she has been kind and forgiving, and she knows that it will take time for me to trust again, but she is ready and willing to do the work for me to get there.  Her well is producing strong and clean water; we contracted for how much she would need with no chance of her suddenly needing more and more. So everything that she has said she has backed up with reality.

So we move forward after these four years of a bad relationship. With much help from friends and loved ones and people coming out of the woodwork to make sure that we can move on. So many people are making this happen with us, wanting to see us in a better relationship, having sat patiently all this time waiting for me to be ready to move forward. 

I am a little more broken but repairable, a little more wary, and I have my work cut out for me. Work to do on myself, my finances, and my life. At this time though- I am also full of hope. Hope that the life that I had wanted for me and my slave is still attainable, still within my reach. I suppose that is all that one can  ask for after four years of failure and  increasing demands that took my dreams and turned them into sleepless nights,  to many jobs, and to little sanity. 

I still have the hope that it gets better. That I can with work and time and love -make it better. My old Mistress the house does not get to take that away, and I am not letting her. 

Thank you so much K&C, Vi Johnson, SM, BB and all of those that have made this possible. Without all that you have done we would be lost and without hope.