The Outside World

I hate it when other people ruin my lovely, cozy, amazing life.  I have a wonderful life.  I have a lot of love, I have amazing sex, and I have a woman who loves me no matter how many sock trees that I try to grow by leaving my socks on the living room floor.  I have a beautiful home, with amazing horses and loving cats. I have an intentional family that buys me curios, and sends me notes that say that they love me every day, that I matter, and remind me how to lead. I have a good honest job that pays me well, and a crew of people that I work with that are smart, dedicated and team oriented.  Overall, I am blessed in ways that many people aren’t.  And I am utterly utterly grateful for those things. 

However, in the other world I am used to being treated differently.   It is a subtle thing, most of the time. People move their kids away from me, people eye me then back away or walk in the other direction, I have seen women move behind their male partners, male partners pull their women closer.  In a lot of ways I am used to that and don’t really mind, it gives me an edge, I feel, an advantage.  But there is a difference between me being treated different, and me being treated in a way that quite frankly stays with me for days.   

And that is where I am now.  

 I am writing this because I have not been able to compartmentalize it since it happened.  

Last Monday we went to the bank to see someone about a mortgage loan refinance.  Now just to preface here, I knew that we wouldn’t qualify- my credit sucks.  But they said that they could do something, they sought me out, so I thought, well, more information doesn’t hurt. But my gut said, don’t go. 

So we arrived at the bank on time, and 15 minutes later were told that we were at the wrong bank, she had not told me were her office was .  We had to dive across town to her find her, and when I was walking in my gut said- don’t do this.  

But in we went.

 I could feel who she was before I saw her face.  She didn’t bother to apologize she just looked me up and down, the same with my slave, and then sat down.  She did not offer us a seat. She was thin, white, and rich- she made sure to let us know about her vacation property in Angelfire.  She went on and on about how she hated Mondays and how much pain she was in due to her jaw being wired shut from being thrown from her horse.  I looked at my slave several times confused. 

She said that she tried to call my cell phone but had the wrong number.  Then sputtered over herself when I said that I didn’t own one, she paused and said “why don’t you own a cell phone?”  I was shocked at the question, it was abrupt, accusatory. I said that we don’t have a cell phone because I don’t like people.  Then my slave tried to explain us a little more she said that we are broke.  I noticed that the question moved the focus away from the fact that she had just lied to me about trying to call. 

 I watched this woman carefully.

 She would talk about herself , just to hear herself talk. When she would tense up she would ask me a question – not to hear the answer, but to hear me say I didn’t know. Then she would relax a little. When I could answer her questions, she would interrupt me, talk over my answer, and make up her own answer. I would have to stop her and explain myself again, not that what I was saying mattered. She would look down every time that I talked. 

She made snide comments about my salary “is that all?” about my schooling “you just went to nursing school?” About my credit "tsk tsk tsk”  as she tapped the papers.  About my home. “You had better not lose that house.” “Why don’t you just sell?” 

Finally when I realized that I had taken all that I could. I took my paperwork, stood up and said “are we done here?”  She didn’t bother to say have a nice day; shake my hand or any of that other perfunctory crap a business person is supposed to do.  She just stood up backed away, and was much relived that we were going.

My slave and I left glassy eyed and confused, I was downright angry and she was trying to put herself back together. My slave in general has amazing social skills, and does much better in situations like this.  I remind her of this often, as I am proud of how she conducts herself, and quite frankly apologizes for my short comings. 

But after that we were both just trying to pick ourselves up.

I felt abused and berated.  I felt like no matter what I said it would not have mattered, and like my hard earned accomplishments were just a wrinkle in this woman’s nose.

It felt alien, and we both stayed in shock for a while. We are still in shock.

My slave bough me ice cream.  I had amazing sex, a few times, that helped- a lot.

But I am still shaken. Weird, huh?

New Master, new slave

Over the last few months or so a friend of mine called Cupcake had starting changing their identity from top/switch to Master.  He had been putting himself out there looking for a slave and boy did the chatter get loud. The conversations of what is he doing?  He isn’t responsible enough, he isn’t knowledgeable enough. He has no idea what he is asking. What could he POSSIBLY BE THINKING!?!?!  And so on became a very loud and distinct background noise.

 I would like to say that I had taken some sort of high road, and that I had said “hey wait a minute”. But no, I listened to what others had to say and jumped in with my own two judgmental cents.

I didn’t even  stop to think that what was coming out of my mouth about Cupcake was exactly the same kind of hateful, biased, and destructive  crap that was said about me ten years ago when I first  got with my slave. What I was saying and agreeing with had nothing to do with anything that was real. Instead it was my own biases, my own perception of what I thought he was and could be, and my own territorial peeing over  who I thought had the  “right” to take on my own beloved title of Master.  I didn’t think twice….. and then…

There was an occasion were I had a chance to sit and talk with Cupcake.  We caught up on what had been happening, and where he was now.  I met his new slave, and listened intently as they both   talked about what had been happening since together they had started transitioning into a Master/slave relationship. He talked about having a lot of resistance to his change, from those that knew him, and those that didn’t, and they talked about having a lot of people be outright nasty and challenging to both of their new identities and the new relationship, as well as being very surprised and hurt that people were so opposed to their individual growth as well as their growing into a couple.

I completely understood what they were saying. I had been there as well. I have come to the conclusion that people react so badly to someone changing for a multitude of reasons. Some of it may be that people feel that they no longer have access to you, and some of it may be that people like to think that they know who you are so when you grow and change, that challenges those beliefs.  It may be  that people are comfortable knowing and relating to you one way, and when you change it forces them to change as well. It changes how they view you, how they approach you, what they think about you, and relative to that- what they think about themselves.  People get concerned about whether they will have a place in your life after you change, or will be left behind because of your change. So the fear of losing you sometimes becomes the motive for them resisting your growth.  

Sometimes it is the fear that your growth will leave them behind in an emotional sense, that your growth is a reflection of them not growing. In essence we are all a reflection of each other.  We keep certain friends and not others because of how those people fit into our lives, how they relate to our belief system, and how they influence how we think and feel.  So when someone that is important in our lives changes the sense of loss and fear are automatic.  What does their change mean to and about me? 

So instead of accepting that change people sometimes react negatively. They talk badly about you, or to you. They start rumors; they undermine your decisions subtly, or directly. No matter what their outlet is,   it is all based in the same concept that that person is struggling with you changing, not because of what your change means to you, but because of what your change that means to them.

Then it hit me smack in my head.  Holy Shit.  That person was me.  I was the one saying crap about Cupcakes change. I was the one questioning his ability, not because I knew anything for myself, but because of my own biases. I was saying shit about what I thought he was trying to do. It never occurred to me to stop and say “everyone starts somewhere”, or” I was there and no one believed in me”, or even “hey give Cupcake a chance; he might be moving into something very powerful and ground breaking for him.”

I didn’t do it then.  But I do it now.

I am so sorry Cupcake that I didn’t cut you slack about your change. Although it was never something that I said to your face, I should have been right there cheering you and your slave on. I should have been challenging those that questioned you and reminding them as well as myself that all beginnings need support.

Transitions are never easy for those going through them. When someone is transitioning there will be those that accept the change and support it and there will be those that fight against it. But remember someone else’s reaction to your change is about them, not about you.  And although change is scary, how someone else reacts to your change should never stop you from moving forward. 

The use of Intention

Be4 I begin I would like to sincerely thank LG and her slave l for inviting us into their home and being so warm and open.



The concept of intention was brought up as LG and slave l talked about the Master and slave retreats that they had attended. At one point the leader of the retreat talked about coming into a scene with intention, and as they continued to talk I thought to myself, that is really interesting. Usually I have an idea of what I would like, or the thought that if this certain thing happened that would be nice, or I know that I want this type of play. But I don’t think I ever came into a scene with a very clear and focused intention.


So I started thinking about what playing with intention would mean. Would it really be that different if I had an intention? Or would it feel like it was something that I had to mentally interrupt the scene to remember what the intention was. Could it take play to another level, or did it just sound intense and evolved but just end up being something that I couldn’t connect to and was annoyed by.


I do come into a scene with the thought of what type of play I want to use, and if I want the scene to be close and intimate or intense and sexual. The thought of using not just intention, but emotional intention would change that. The play wouldn’t just be about using that particular new toy, or causing pain, or getting my rocks off, it could be about coming in with the idea that I want to create this type of experience for her, and for me.


So after some time, as I got myself ready, and thought about how to incorporate this new thing when I did finally use it, there was an explosive result. Because I knew exactly what I wanted to emotionally achieve, remaining focused on that helped me read her better and be more prepared for the outcome. I was really shocked at how the use of emotional intention refocused and clarified the scene.


The focus completely changed from using that type of toy and that type of scene, to using the right toy and the right scene at the right time to create the intense experience that I wanted from her. The use of clothespins was secondary to the thought that it was my intention to give her emotional release, to have her cry and feel my love and support the whole time. The use of clothespins was chosen because they fit that intention, they are close, painful, pushy, and can force someone to deal with pain unexpectedly.


I can also say that coming into that scene with emotional intent left me completely out of it. I was unprepared for the intensity of my own emotional reaction that the focus led me into. It was heady and powerful and had me feeling like I had been a part of something bigger then myself.
I can tell you this, I could really get used to the feeling of using emotional intention. I don’t know if I can do it all of the time, it created such an intense response from both her and me, and that would take a while to get used to. Coming into this scene with intention was an extremely deep experience, and I feel that I shouldn’t undertake it again lightly.


But I do feel that I could maybe use intention with a little lighter expected outcome. What would it mean for the intention to be her sexual experience leaves her unable to walk for a while? Or what if the intention was to make her laugh, and giggle, and feel my heart? Maybe this first time playing with such a strong and powerful concept like intention should have been something a little less driven towards intensity, so that I could get used to what it produced.


OR maybe, that’s what it was supposed to be, no amendments, or changes, just pure untouched emotion.


Either way, bringing intention into the scene was amazing, powerful, and lead me to feel that something else had been achieved, that there was a greater power then us in the room ,and it had cared for us both and lead us to safely in each others arms.