Log in

No account? Create an account

Moving Again

So Master doesn't really like livejournal, hates having to sign in, hates the look of it, etc.  I've blogged on wordpress for years for my nilla blog and I like that platform alot.  My nilla blog is self-hosted and I don't have permission to pay for the slave blog but I'll still be using wordpress from now on.

He's going to allow me to keep to Livejournal to read friends but would rather I post somewhere else and not do friends only entries - friends only to him means for his eyes only. 

So I'm moving to: Service Slavery

Hope to see you there!

A Slap to the Cheek

As I wrote last night, Master was enjoying the crop yesterday.  The whole weekend actually. At one point I was kneeling in front of him and he tapped my cheek with the crop.  It was gentle, but when he pulled it back my body went on high alert fearing that he was going to snap it across my face with force.

Let's be honest Master has never done that before.  He's slapped my face both in play and punishment - a slap to the face followed by a lecture and corner time has this slave quickly repetant, but never with enough force to leave any kind of lasting mark or bruise that my boss would see at work today.  And he's only ever slapped my face with an open hand.

The thing is, he likes that fear.  Master isn't a huge sadist.  He doesn't truly get off on pain, that fear though it excites him.  When he pulled the crop back with enough force to make the air whistle, I stayed as still as possible, forcing myself not to move knowing nothing good would come from that. He watched my face, heard my breath hitch and chuckled at me.  Chuckled.  It was a deep, spine-chilling chuckle that simultaneously makes me shiver in fear and excitement.  Maybe it's not the fear so much as the power, my submission to his will that turns him and maybe me too. 

Maybe it's a combination, in the end I guess it doesn't matter.  It's just I can't shake the thought or that little butterfly of fear in my soul today.

Swatting Flys & Asses

Master likes me to serve as his footstool while he watches football.  Generally, I lay there mostly ignored except for the occasional tug on my leash for the first half.  During half-time he likes a blow job and then I'm dismissed while he watches the second half.  I enjoy this routine and found myself excited for football season just so that we can get back to these bits of connection.

Tonight there was annoying fly in the house, a fly that kept landing on my ass, back, and things.  The fly also kept buzzing in Master's ear, royally pissing Master off.  Master became a man on a mission.

He had the hand shaped crop on the couch next to him which quickly became make-shift fly swatter.  He never got the fly but he did connect often and hard with my body.  I'm going to be sore tomorrow and I have a two hour conference call in which I'll have to try and sit comfortably next to boss.  It'll be an interesting morning but I'm hopeful that the bruises will be in the shape of that tiny hand.

Slavery as a Vocation

Yesterday I was chatting with my good friend jkily and she got me thinking - like she always does. In a nutshell we were comparing slavery and religion, Master to God.  I know Master isn't a god, I know he's not perfect and I believe God to be perfect.  I also believe that my submission to my Master is in absolute harmony with my spiritual beliefs (which are hard to pin down and explain but which make total sense to me).  My submission and the connection I have with my Master is also deeply sacred to me, as holy as I believe earthly things can be.

I got to thinking more about our conversation last night, it played over and over in my head.  All good conversation should do that I think.  Anyway, I thought about this quote that I'd published over at Daily Submission earlier in the week:
"Slavehood is a vocation, comparable and equal in every way to any religious calling." - J Mikael Togneri

I understand vocation, but to be sure I was defining it correctly, I looked it up.  Vocation, noun: A person's employment or main occupation, esp. regarded as particularly worthy and requiring great dedication

In a way I guess I do pursue slavery in a way that is comparable to a religious calling.  It is my main occupation in that everything else I do stems from it, even my job is part of my slavery in that I wouldn't do it if it wasn't what Master wanted.  I also believe that I do give my slavery and service great dedication.  I'm constantly studying service and slavery, reading the blogs and talking to other female slaves whom I respect and trust.  Reading books, trying to learn new and improve existing skills. 

I'm also continually looking to Master, trying to follow his direction, trying to better understand him and his desires so that I can be of better use and service to him.  I see where very religious people do these same things, looking to their prophets, their texts, their god for guidance in how to live daily.  While I still see religion as different than slavery and I still believe that the two can live in harmony in a relationship with the right people, I can also see how the line can easily blur.

If anything, I'm more comfortable with how I'm pursuing my slavery because of this bit of introspection.  Not that I was ever uncomfortable, I've been very sure of who and what I am for a long time now.  I want to pursue my submission, my obedience to Master's commands with religious-like fervor because in that I find myself most free and at home in my own skin.  This bit of thought has also convinced me to explore and practice my own faith in God more, to seek out that connection with the spiritual and make it more of a daily part of my life.  To seek that connection with the spiritual and invite it more into my heart through my actions and my submission.

Collar & Leash

We go through phases with the collar, the actual physical collar I mean.  In general I don't wear it much when the garden is in full swing.  We're in and out of the house too much and too many folks, neighbors and friends stop by without warning.  It's a dog collar, there's no hiding it if someone surprises us while we're planting beets or harvesting peas.

Right now, though Master's wanting the collar on most of the time.  I enjoy it, too.  I like feeling the weight of it on my neck, love when he clips the leash on and gives it a jerk to make sure it's firmly attached.  He likes to leave the leash attached and send me off to do chores.  It hangs down my spine adding extra weight, making the collar rub against my neck.  I admit it annoys me quickly when I'm trying to do dishes or cook dinner, but I've never asked to have it removed either.  I put up with it, try to embrace it, and eventually it lulls me into that state of mind he wants me in.  It quietly but oh so efficiently removes all other thoughts from my often overactive brain.

I've been sleeping in the collar too, something that hadn't been required for a long time.  I'm finding it comforting right now, I admit to finding it quite claustrophobic at other times.  Master likes to wrap his fingers around it as he sleeps up against me.

We go for a walk at 4:30 each morning.  I take the collar off and put it on the nightstand when I change into my sweats.  This morning as Master was getting ready to leave for work, I watched as he attached the leash to the collar and set it on the arm of the couch before telling me goodbye.  I'm trying to focus on my work today, but my mind keeps wandering to what's on the couch at home.  I can't wait for us both to get home knowing that he'll point to the floor and I'll kneel, holding my hair back so that he can secure the collar around my neck.

Thursdays are long and he'll be sore when he gets home tonight and I'll have the massage oil ready.

Journal Pockets

I posted a quick but fun tutorial on adding pockets to journals / blank books over at Domestic Servitude if you're interested in that sort of thing...

Filling Water Bottles

I received a message from a gal on Fetlife recently who is about to move in with her Master and she asked me a few questions about real life 24/7 slavery.  At one point, I told her that slavery isn't about only submitting to the things that make you wet.  This is to me a very common misconception and one I know I struggled with in the beginning.  I stand by that, case in point:

Master likes to drink refrigerated cold water.  We don't like to buy water so I refill stainless steel bottles for him and keep those in the fridge.  He leaves the empty bottles all over the place, often times the lids are separated from the bottles and it becomes a bit of treasure hunt.  I asked him once why he didn't simply refill the empties when he went to get a new one from the fridge.  His answer, "that's what I have a slave for" end of discussion. 

He's right, of course, and that's my job: make his life more pleasurable.  Making sure he has cold water does exactly that though it does absolutely nothing in the way of turning me on.  I'll continue to do it because I do what I'm told and I do enjoy serving him even when it doesn't truly turn me on.

Retail Therapy

Master let me go shopping by myself this morning, told me to just get whatever I wanted.  I'm not a big shopper, he knows this and trusts me not to go overboard.  I didn't find much but I did find the momentary cure for wanting to feel and be more feminine: A sexy-as-hell pair of heeled black boots with buckles around the ankle.  Fitting into a size 14 skirt comfortably (no sucking in required) and a ruffled light purple blouse that shows just a hint of cleavage without showing my frog tattoo also helped, all of that for about $52 at Ross.  

I'm so grateful for the outing, the finds, and the lack of fat-girl breakdowns in the dressing rooms.

Girly Girl

Lots of Drabble ahead, you might want to skip this...

I'm not a girly girl.  I often say I'm not very feminine but Master says that's not true.  I'm starting to see it his way (like everything)  I am feminine but not very dainty and I'm not girly.  I don't wear make-up and I rarely feel jazzed or glitzed up.   To be fair, we don't live a lifestyle in which I have the occasion to dress-up very often.  We live very close to the land, we do a ton of gardening and canning so our lives are casual and grungy a good bit of the time.

I love the homesteading-style life we lead and have no desire to change that.  Sometimes though I wish I was a little more girly girl.  Sometimes I wish I primped for him.  Oy, Let's face it if Master wanted me differently he would have made it so by now. 

I don't even know how to put on make-up without feeling like a clown.  Two women I know have offered to help and Master has given me permission to buy make-up, I just need to take the initiative I guess...  Maybe after the garden is put to bed, I'll feel better about taking the time.

Still, wearing make-up isn't going to make me dainty is it?  It's not necessarily going to make me feel more feminine or girly either.  Maybe, if I continue to lose weight that'll help a little, maybe. 

Crap, have I mentioned that this week has been a little emotional.


I've been on an emotional rollercoaster this week.  Between the intense weekend and subsequent drop when I had to return to work and monthly curse hormones (hormones that don't usually bother me unless there's other extenuating circumstances), let's just say my mood can swing on a dime.  I hate that, Master hates that too.  I understand that we both need to work and honestly I accept that but sometimes it's hard to deny the fantasy of us just staying home and him using me until there's nothing left.  Let's be honest though we'd both get tired of that too, maybe.  You always want what you can't have right? 

Thursdays are a long, hard days for Master. I'm planning a nice dinner and massage for him afterwards.  He's already said yes to both.  Hopefully that'll be good for us both.  I also have a crap ton of writing projects I should be working on, meaning I need to quit procrastinating...