An admission

I do not find the female body beautiful, sexy or erotic. Breasts in particular, I have a decided aversion to. Maybe because mine have always, since puberty been large and pendulous, and I am not comfortable in my own skin. I find human breasts to be so ugly. They remind me of cow udders or teats. Hanging down, so droopy and weighty, just serving no purpose after bearing children except the titillation (see what I did there?) of your lover. I do not find them cute or lovely; even the sassy perky ones just don’t turn me on in any way. Maybe if I had ever once in my life been able to go without a brassiere just once – to experience the wonderful freedom of being braless and running with no pain, it would be different and I could feel otherwise. Instead I feel forever imprisoned in a detestable tight underwire garment with straps digging in my skin, leaving marks and lines and even causing me to perspire underneath my breasts.

Then, I had the misfortune of being diagnosed with breast cancer 13 years ago. It was early stage, but back then it meant I went through two surgeries, chemo, and radiation. I should have had the sense at that time to have a mastectomy followed by reconstruction, and a lift or reduction on the other breast. Sir said we would investigate doing reduction later, and we never have. I’m not asking for, nor do I need sympathy. Okay, rant done.

Advertisements

Balls and plugs

bal

“…take my silver balls from my night table and insert in your pussy and keep there overnight. In the morning you are to go in my box and find the jeweled butt plug and insert it. You will wear both until you pick me up at the airport.”

I can’t keep the pretty shiny heavy silver balls inside me when I am up and about, much as I would like; they simply will not stay up inside me. However upon insertion of my favorite plug, there’s no problem whatsoever. I am busy all day cleaning the kitchen and bathroom, stripping our bed, washing the bedding and towels, emptying the dishwasher; readying our nest for his return. Then I sit down to work on my list of bad habits for Master. As the day wears on I sense a growing neediness down there. My pussy lips are irritated by the tag from the silver balls against my piercing and feel swollen, and my insides are heavy with wanting.

It’s rare for me to feel so wanton and aroused, but it’s been ten days without Master, and I need him. I want his hands on me, his lips and breath at my neck, and his beautiful cock doing what it should. I must come to terms in my head finally that I truly do need this wonderful generous Master who wants and needs me! I love you my dear kind lovely Master xx!

Whose faults

Today Master is coming back from his work shift. He’s been staying in our old (empty) house which has not yet sold. It’s been odd and yes, lonely without his dominating presence here. When he’s here we are so busy still organizing our home and enjoying our new city (and each other, of course.) I still have the same old struggle with submitting. Today before he boarded his plane he told me to write down ten personality flaws or personal faults of mine. Then choose three and write down possible solutions. This was much harder than it sounds.

I am disobedient.

I am sassy/bratty.

I am disrespectful.

I don’t always listen.

I am not submissive in general.

I am not always receptive to sex.

I question his leadership/authority.

I do what I want more than doing what I think he wants.

I am not polite nor loving.

When I see this list I know in my heart these attributes are true, but I’m shocked, mortified, humiliated, and humbled. Am I even submissive at all? I know deep in my soul, from a small child I’ve always felt submissive, but life and my Sir’s career took much of my natural submission away. I feel terrible and so very sad that I’m such a disappointment to my Master, who tells me he loves and adores me.

Now I must work on listening to Sir. Using his honorifics when I speak to him (or text.) Putting Him before me always. Stop questioning and do as He asks. Be kind and loving.

It doesn’t sound hard!

Reflection of a Fantasy

silver

Way back before I even knew what sex really was, let alone D/s, I made up a fantasy world I would “escape” to when I was feeling low, upset, or out of sorts. I guess it was similar to having an imaginary friend, except this was an entire land with characters and a story line. You see, like many young women, from childhood on, I never thought of myself as pretty or desirable. Oh, I wasn’t fat or heinous looking. But when everyone else had beautiful long hair parted down the middle, mine was still short and awkward-looking. I’d had three eye surgeries as a young girl to correct cross-eyes, and my eyes never did look normal until much later in life when a surgeon finally corrected the lax muscles.

I wasn’t athletic nor did I enjoy sports. I was very good in school and enjoyed reading, which I did constantly. I was very much a home-body and didn’t have many friends. I considered most kids silly. And so they didn’t really like me either. I did have (and still do to this day) one bff I met in third grade and we immediately knew we were kindred spirits. I think much of my behavior had to do with dysfunction at home and the fact my father was a career Air Force officer and we moved a great deal when I was young. I believe I became afraid of making friends; that I might lose them. It’s fascinating what repeated trauma does to a young child (she says analytically.)

…It was a silver world, where women were royalty, and I was but a common, callous slave. There was little darkness, the daytime hours being much longer than ours. Therefore night became a very precious thing. I remember in this world, which I knew not the name of, being too low to be given the honor of knowing it, I was whipped regularly for minor infractions. (Remember, this was well before I knew I was submissive, which really strikes me now.)

The women, especially the Queens (and there were many of varying levels of rank, were the most incredibly beautiful things I’d ever seen. Not icy cruel-cold as Tilda Swinton as Jadis in The Lion, the Witch and the Wardrobe film, but very similar, and silver, not white, of course!

I had all types of menial, boring, tedious tasks set to me. Now I can’t even remember what my brain dreamed up. Most of this I imagined in middle and high school when I was bored out of my mind, but now and then, a gleam of silver – such as the chrome on a shiny bus or car, would draw my attention, and I would hear the Queens calling me. No, I’m not nor have I ever been schizophrenic, but it was such an outlet for an imaginative, bored, maybe depressed child.

Sometimes I miss it. Which is why I turned to writing. You’d think I write fantasy or sci-fi, but honestly, the genre has been so totally overdone that I’m no longer interested in it. Now I have my own world with a house and Master to occupy my time. I have three dogs and a grown girl to think/worry about. When I have spare time, I have my writing. All in all, real life has become much more entertaining than that gleaming silver world. That’s not to say I don’t miss it! It’s strange too, sometimes a crumpled bit of foil or a flash in the mirror catches my eye, and I can hear one of the Queens faintly calling my silver world name…