Service of my words, service of my Heart

My slave calls it  “ripping off the band aid” it is when I am  dead set against taking care of myself or pampering myself and she bulldozes right through  me to  do  what is best. 

Before you get all smug or up in arms about topping from below, pulling rank, being insubordinate, or refusing to obey- just remove the stick from  your ass and listen:

When I started school I knew that I needed three ring binders, money was a little tight  because we had just moved and so I was doing what I could to  stay organized. We were at the store and I was looking at the binders- I needed three of them-  and she said “Master, you need these.” And I said  “No, we cant really afford them.”

At that point she stepped forward and said “Come on- rip  off the band aid, how many do  you need?”

 I tried to  say no but she was already putting them  into  the cart- and she was right- I needed them.

This happened again  just recently. After we moved into the new house the bathroom  needed to  be re  done. So  I set her on  it. I didn’t want to have  anything to do with  the decision  making. I just wanted it handled, and boy did she. We made payments for a while and this week they are gutting the bathroom and re doing it. Within  budget and paid up  front, becasue that is how she knows I need things to be handled.

she calls it phase one. I stopped asking how many other phases there are because as she runs into  new ideas that changes. 

The point is that the other day we were at the store and I saw it. Batman bathroom  stuff! The soap dispenser was AMAZING, and the shower curtain  rings! EPIC! So we went to  buy  it and---

WHOOPS!!  We ran  out of money and had to  put it back!!!

Ultimately I was OK with that-  we had enough  to  get through  for the week, but Batman  would have to wait.

So  when  we went back  to the store a week  later and it was still there- I was SHOCKED!  I really wanted them.  I knew it would make us short on money so  I said no. And again  she stepped right up and said “Off with  the band aid!” and she put the Goodies  in  the cart! 

It is rough  when  she does those things. I get agitated, but I know that she is right.  The honest feeling is that I feel  so  cared for. Like she sees past my words and right in to  my heart.

I feel that this is a good example of one of the ways that people would say-  it is not her place to override my decisions. You  are the Master- AREN'T you?

But isn’t the heart of service to care for and provide for the Master? 

Where then does one stop  and the other begin? Where does service over ride servitude?

Some of that is easy- when  the Master is asking for something illegal  that puts the slave at risk,  when  the Master is inebriated or under the influence, when  the Master is under extreme duress. 

OK I get that part-  but what about the subtlety of the concept that is less extreme and more -  gray? Those “in between”  parts where the majority of life is lived, where the details lay.

Is the slave disobedient if they push  the Master to drink on  a hot day when  the Master isn’t thirsty? 

Is the slave disobedient if they make a meal  that is appropriate for the Masters disease process, but the Master wants what they shouldn’t have?

Is the slave disobedient if they are told to buy  clothes but know the rent is over due and pay the rent instead? 

Where does the line cross from  service and  into  disobedience?

This is something that every Master has to  answer for themselves-  and I already know my answer:

Here it is!   

 BATMAN MANIA!!!!  Will go  up  as soon  as they are done with  the renovation!

My backpack and school binders complete with  colored inserts.

I am  so  LUCKY to have the service of my heart and not just my words!

The need for the illusion

 It has been  a  emotional week,  my slave re started the Betties and she had their first meeting in over a year. We received our final check  in  the foreclosure so now  the old house is behind us and in  five years we are going to be able to  get a mortgage and come off of the real estate contract. I am  caught up on homework  for the week.  I have been  approved to  CNM for my last semester and am  waiting to hear back  about financial  aid. The bills are paid, the horses are eating  and we have food and heat.

I am reminded of all  of our multiple  blessings not just because I am grateful  for them, and give thanks,  but because I received a call  from my Mom  a few weeks back. I followed up  with her this week.  My sister is in  trouble of the legal  kind. Not usual for our family- we tend to  err on  the  side of not going to  jail. The sad thing is that she is in  trouble because she can’t see that the only way out is to  change.

Part of this is her mental  illness- but part of this is the old fashioned ghosts that follow us all- the universal  human experience of  “it will get better. It will change. I can do this. I CAN MAKE THIS  BETER. If I am Better IT WILL BE DIFFERENT.”

How many of us have stayed in  relationships far too  long, tolerated abuse,  stayed in  jobs,  living arrangements, activities,  or groups way beyond what was healthy for us because we needed to  see it for what we wanted it to  be instead of what it really was.

We kept the  veil of illusion  over the starkness of the   reality because seeing what was real  was to  painful, to  dis-empowering, to  scary, to  unthinkable. 

The need for the illusion  is so powerful  that everything else falls by the wayside. Self care, dreams,  goals, desires-  it is as if the illusion  is an  addiction, and it draws our very lives from  us.

I know a little of what I am  talking about here.  My first marriage lasted 4.5 years.  I was dedicated to  the illusion that we could make it work. 

During that time I continued to go  to  school (which  I attribute only to us not living together) but I gave up  horses, my sense of safety, my sense of self,  my ability to  define my own  needs and desires, and my ability to  tell  right from  wrong. I believed so  strongly in  her that when  she would lie,  steal, or otherwise  “press the boundaries of the law”

I would justify it, ignore it, or refuse to believe  that it had happened. Even when it did happen right  in front of  my own eyes and ears. I really needed to  believe that  I couldn’t possibly be married to  someone that would do those things.  The illusion  of her, of us,  was so much  more important than the reality. I did everything that I could to protect that.  In the end  no  one could make me see the reality- I had to  see it for myself. 

When I had moved on in  life and my slave and I bought our first house we  stayed for four years because of  the illusion of being able to  make it work. The thought that I had just made that big of a mistake was unthinkable. That I had bought a house that couldn't support us and I couldn't afford,it was a rollercoaster that I was strapped into  by my own  need to believe that there was no  way I could have been  that stupid. I thought I could do  whatever it took  to salvage it.  In  the process I gave up  my degree,  the goal of having children, and my retirement was sucked dangerously dry. I had to  believe that the illusion  was real because the other was beyond all  comprehension.

 And then  it happens, the place of transition where decisions need to  be made,  the relationship  reaches critical  mass,  the  house is not  longer viable,  the job, living situation, the place where you put in  your extra time- it cracks and crumbles. 

It does so  in a way that even if you  try to  catch it, the ashes cling to your fingers as the bricks fall.  It is  addiction,  the place of relapse or the place of moving on, and no  matter what decision  is made -  the person, place, thing, and you are never the same.

And then  sometime after it is all  said and done-   sometimes weeks,  months,  years-  sometimes when it is all passed- you look back  and wonder-  was that me? 

My mother used to  say-  the one thing that you can  always guarantee is that  “it” will change. 

My sister  will never be able to  see that by choosing not to change it will  not get better. 

I am not saying that I am  better then  her or smarter or anything like that. I am saying that I was lucky that my illusion  revealed itself before we were homeless or worse.

We all  carry illusions,  we need them  to make our lives work. But there is that point where the illusion  steals the you  from  you. Where the illusion becomes so deeply engrained that it deceives you into thinking that  it is the reality. 

All  the while something is gnawing at you from  the inside out-  that little voice in  your head, that small flame of the self  or of doubt that shows itself in between  illusions. It is there. Waiting.

I think  that what I am  trying to  say is that change hurts deep,  it is terrifying,  it is sometimes  unthinkable-   

  

-- still  the power of change  marches on. 

Embrace it if you can. 

And if you can’t- just know that you are not alone. Your  feelings of fear, anger,  terror, hopelessness and dis empowerment they are in  all of us at one time or another. And yes-  they will change.

The Rock of Reality

Recently I had the wonderful  experience of sitting down  with  another Master that I highly respect. I have a lot of fun as there are things that we agree on and things that we definitely don’t. That being said we are both extremely passionate about Mastery, slavery, and leather. 

So  the conversations are always colorful and animated. During our last get together (which  are unfortunately rare) she said something that really stuck  with  me.

We were talking about receiving  feedback  and she just offhandedly said  that she cant be a Master to  a rock. It was such  strong imagery that I had to pause.

There are a lot of Masters who  train  their slaves to give no  feedback in  life or in  play. It is the slaves job to take and respond accordingly- but feedback  is neither wanted nor desired. 

More than  that they actively train  their slaves to have no  opinion, this includes training not to recognize, speak, or acknowledge their own wants, needs or desires. 
For theses types of Masters the control is in the taking away of another’s voice- turning them into those who  only respond. 

I have played with  people that have been  trained in  this fashion, and it is well-  boring as hell. 

They are trained to  not move,  respond,  cry out,  or interact, and forget about talking to  them about what pushes their limits, turns them off or on, or is a trigger.   So  not only is there no  reference for how they are doing- they legitimately cannot tell  me what is pleasurable and what isn't. Because-  get this-  they DONT know. 
They have been  trained to  go  through  the motions, but if I ask  them what they feel, they cant tell  me.
 

It is like flogging a stone. 

I can  do  anything-  no  warm, up,  hit as hard as I please, mis hit,  fart- it doesn't matter. 
When I have played with  these people I have walked away thinking and feeling- well  that was -  pointless. I could have had a V-8…… 

But I digress- how this Master explained the concept of owning a rock was really powerful . She can  do  anything to  a rock, put it anywhere, call it anything, use it anyway that she pleases, but what she cant do is  have a conversation  with  it, watch  it grow,  ask  for its desires and get its feedback.  

 At this point as we were talking  she was actually holding a rock  and she pitched it to  the ground and it stayed there. Just like a slave trained in  that fashion would do  if thrown  to  the ground. It would stay there until  it was told its next move. I looked at the rock  and in  my minds eye I could see it-  the rock, the slave resting there waiting…

I am  not knocking others Masters desires or how they want to  experience their slaves interactions. 

I know what works for me, and it was really refreshing to  have someone else that feels the same way that I do, and can  express not just how she feels but why.

I have always felt that the power of what we do  is in  the interaction of the players. If I want to  just hand out random orders and be obeyed I would hire a maid, and a cook, and a driver. But that isn’t what really gets me off. It is the back  and forth, the learning of myself, the pushing of my own  skill, the not always being right. The challenge of loving a  slave that loves me back.

I think this is another type of experience that people can have in  the BDSM  realm.  It isn’t that one is more right then  the other.  All  different types of desires have people that feed them and there are many people put there who  want to  be the Masters rock. It works for them, it fits into  their psychology, and fulfills their inner workings.

But part of me thinks- is this more avoidance of real  life instead of integrating into it?

But who  am I to  say? I am  a poly lesbian  identified Master in  an  interracial  24/7 Master slave relationship.  

 So my reference for real  life may be somewhat skewed……


Thank  you to Lady Golden for such  amazing conversation!