Lost in Vertigo

It had been a long time since I’d taken a really hard beating. 

Not that I haven’t been beaten at all. Sir does beat me sometimes, and even though he’s not really a sadist, he can go after me pretty hard when it’s time for that. But Sir is, at heart, more of a daddy with me than anything else. He beats me because he knows me and he understands it’s a thing that I need. And that’s wonderful. Those sessions are very bonding experiences for us. But there’s a difference in what he does and being beaten by a man who truly enjoys and gets off on watching you take pain for him, whose dick gets harder the more you squirm and yell as he hits you. It’s different when your suffering is truly service. 

This man, whose implements I was carrying to the area of the play space where he was going to beat me, was a sadist. I had never served him before, but his reputation proceeded him in a good way. I knew he was experienced and skilled. And I knew, because he had told me very plainly beforehand, that what turned him on was to push a boy hard and take him to the breaking point. 

So I knew exactly what I was in for when we got to the cross and he methodically strapped me to it. I lost count of the floggers I had been carrying, and there were also two cats, a truncheon, and some other strange thing made of rope which he swore was, regardless of how unassuming it looked, the most painful implement he owned. I knew he was going to use all of them on me before we were done. And it had been a while, so I’m out of practice. I knew it was going to be hard. 

And it was. He gave me a little bit of warm up time, and he ramped up his implements from easiest to hardest over the course of the session. But it didn’t take much time for him to start laying into me hard. When he was getting ready for the hardest blows of each round he would tell me and then he would start counting down with each strike. For the last few of those, he would have me yell out “I am strong, Sir!” after each one, which I was usually doing through gritted teeth or after swallowing down a scream. 

That was one of the most interesting things about the scene for me. I am very into degradation and humiliation and so are most of men I’ve served for long periods. So I’m accustomed to that being the fuel for this kind of scene and what’s driving my motivation to keep going. But that wasn’t this Sir’s style. He was supportive and encouraging, telling me how proud he was of what I was taking for him. He was telling me how strong I was, and making me say it myself to reinforce the message. It was different fuel, but just as effective. I wanted to please him and make him proud, so I was determined to take whatever he wanted to give me. 

And he wanted to give me a lot. The floggers got increasingly more difficult to take as we progressed. The cats were both brutal. By the time we got to the truncheon I was already sore and tired, and the truncheon was immensely painful, leaving a trail of fire across my back that continued to grow deeper and more intense well after the blow itself had landed. 

When he got to the last implement, the rope thing, he told me that he was going to go hard and fast, no break, that it was going to hurt a lot and I should not try to hold my reaction in. “Let it all out, boy. That’s what we’re here for. That’s why you do this. Just let go and let it all out“ he told me. And then he started. 

The blows rained down on me unrelentingly, one right after the other. He was right, whatever this thing was it hurt like a motherfucker. It didn’t take long before I was overwhelmed by the pain. It was too much to process, too much to contain. My groans became a scream. Then that broke into an agonizing sob. I broke. I fucking broke all the way. 

When Sir saw that he had taken me to where he wanted to, he stopped. He told me how proud of me was again as he released me from the cross and sat me in a chair. He stood beside me and told me to hold onto him and let it all out. And that’s exactly what I did. I wailed while I squeezed his strong body with my arms, tighter and tighter. Not cried. Wailed. He held me in that moment and told me what a good boy I had been for him. 

I didn’t realized until that moment just how much I had needed that. How much I had missed it. All of it. Surrendering myself to the needs of a sadistic man, someone who needed to hurt me as much as I needed to be hurt. Being pushed to my limits and reminded that I am indeed strong. The incredible energy that is built when need meets need and you have a partner who you can trust to take you to the depths and back. The release, that powerful and cathartic release that comes at the end of enduring the ordeal you submitted to. The bliss of being comforted and held by a man who has hurt you.

I don’t know why this is a thing that I need. But that doesn’t change the fact that it is. I am built for this kind of service. It fulfills me in a way that nothing else does. 

I needed this reminder. Since I separated from my Master a couple of years ago, I haven’t really pursued the kind of relationship that would include this kind of depth of service. There’s a lot of reasons for that, all valid. But at the end of the day, this is a part of who I am. For me to be my whole self, my best self, it’s a part of me that has to be fulfilled. And I can’t ignore that forever. 

"A few months ago, something happened. It seemed like a small thing at the time. A decision made on the spur of the moment, a lark. It didn’t seem consequential when it happened. But it began a process. It opened a door. And ever since then, I’ve been falling."

My first words on this blog. Interestingly enough, i got an email from Tumblr just a couple of weeks ago reminding me that it was the 4th anniversary of starting it. When i think back over all that has happened since then, how far I've come on my journey from curious but frightened boy to proud owned slave, it boggles my mind a bit. i never would have thought when i opened that door that i would follow the road on the other side so far. i did fall, i let myself fall, and it was one of the best decisions i've ever made. In falling, i discovered how to conquer long held fears, how to face myself unflinchingly. Because i let go, because i fell, i learned that falling wasn't as scary as i had always thought, and i opened myself up to the thrill of the fall and all that it could teach me. And eventually i landed, and i stood up, and i walked into my new truth.

i'm not sure if i will keep this blog around or not. If i will move it or decide that this was the time to bring this part of my story to an end. Unlike most of the blogs i follow here, i don't actually HAVE to leave because of Tumblr's stupid new policies; because most of my Tumblr is just writing and for whatever reason they only have a problem with dirty pictures, not dirty words. Only a small handful of my posts have been flagged. But i enjoy writing for an audience, i enjoy sharing my story with others who might be able to get something out of it, and if there's no audience it feels a bit pointless. And i don’t know that i’m up for starting over somewhere else.

So we'll see. i don't know. if i do decide to move somewhere else eventually i’ll post about it here.

Thank you to all that have followed me and written to me these last few years. It's meant everything to me to know that sharing my journey meant something to even a few, that some people could see parts of themselves in my words and feel a little less alone as a result. That makes it all worth it.

And a special thanks to my Master. i don't know that we would have met without Tumblr, and for that alone i'll always think of this virtual space fondly. Thank You for being a part of my journey from the earliest of days, and for continuing to travel with me even now.

i recently began exploring a new skill and avenue for service: bootblacking.

i already love boots. Now, i won't pretend to be an expert and connoisseur like many of my friends. i can't spot a brand name at 20 paces. i don't have a large collection filling my closet; in fact, i own only a single pair myself, and they're far from high-end (although they are great and i love them dearly). But i sure do love being on the ground and licking them, cleaning them with my tongue, savoring the taste as i go. i am a proud bootlicker. Combine that with my drive to offer more and better service, and bootblacking is basically a no brainier for me.

i had the opportunity a few months ago to spend an evening with an incredibly talented and knowledgeable bootblack working His stand at His home bar. He very generously offered to let me shadow him for a few hours while He worked on several Men's boots, explaining every step of the process as He went. It was amazing watching Him work, seeing the depth of the care He took in all the He did, the suredness of His hands, the fluidity of how He moved - and how great the boots looked when He was done with them! i was much less graceful when He let me work on a friend's boots in His stand at the end of the night, but i sure did enjoy it still. And i was very pleased with how my friend's boots looked when i was done working on them, how i could see the transformation and the shine. And the whole process is so much more sensuous than i had imagined. i fell in love immediately.

Last time i visited Master, i got to work on both His boots and His husband's. i started with His husband's as a practice run, just me and the boots on Their kitchen floor, and was very pleased when they came out with such a nice shine. The next afternoon, Master and i went out to His deck, Him in His leather and me in only my jock, both of us with good cigars, and i sat on the floor and worked on His boots. It was such a perfect bit of service. Me on the ground before Him like i am so often, but this time working His boots with cleaner and creams and wax instead of my tongue. i took my time, savoring the process, the feel of His boots in my hands, cigar smoke in the air, His handsome face looking down at me while i worked. i was almost sad when i was done, but again i was pleased with my work. And more importantly, so was He. A compliment from Master on a job well done - is there anything better?

Since then, i've only had one more opporortunity to practive, a good friend of mine that Master allowed me to have a play date with. After we had played, i spent the last part of the evening blacking His boots and we were both happy with the results. i'm hoping to do much, much more of this in the future.

Awww, thanks for the concern, Anon! i'm actually touched that people out there that i don't know would care enough to check up on me.

But i'm good. i've just been crazy busy. Between my demanding job that just got a lot more demanding in the last couple of months, serving Master, spending time with my husband, and various social obligations, i just haven't been finding as much time to write here lately. But i've got a half written post that will be going up soon. And i'm visiting Master in two days, so i'm sure that i'll have a lot to share after that trip.

Thanks for the question, anon, and i’m glad to hear you’ve been enjoying my blog! 

We’re not currently working towards permanent chastity for me, although that could always change down the road. i can tell You what it looks like right now, but He could decide to take me in a different direction any time He chooses.

You’re right in that my longest lockup so far has been 3 months. Since then, i’ve been in and out of lockup periods lasting anywhere from 1-2 months. Master generally likes me to be locked up for at least a month before i visit Him (I’m visiting in a few days and i’ve been locked for about 6 weeks right now) because it helps ensure that i’m in a good submissive headspace and very eager to serve and please Him when we’re together. He also generally lets me have an orgasm at the end of my visits if i serve well, but those are not guaranteed and i never head into our time together expecting one.

After my last couple of visits He’s been allowing me short periods of “freedom”, both as a kind of reward for good service and to give me some time to explore my switch side more. In fact, during the last one of these i had a boy over to play with, paddled and bred him good, and then locked back up as soon as he left. That was the last time i got to cum, and it was certainly fun having it be up a sexy boy’s ass.

Master definitely likes keeping me locked a lot, He enjoys the frustration i feel from long periods of denial, and He has definitely noted that i’m more submissive after even just a few days of being caged. But He’s also enjoyed and encouraged my forays into switching, so He’s been looking for the right balance there.

That's a very good question, TorontoPup.

Being married means that there are some limits to and boundaries around my submission to my Master. My husband is very understanding of my need to serve, and has been very supportive of my relationship with Master. He approved of Master collaring me. The important things to my husband are that he feels respected and considered as W/we conduct O/our relationship, and that he still gets enough of my time, energy, and love to keep our marriage healthy and happy.

Other than these general guidelines, my hubby has put only a few hard boundaries around my service. He does ask that W/we're mindful in public/social media (I don't wear my collar around some of his straight friends who would not understand, for instance). He would not be happy if I showed up with permanent body modifications without being consulted. Things like that.

Being married Himself, Master very much understands these kind of boundaries (and has some similar ones on His end). They really are not a problem for either one of us. We both want this to work for the long term, and keeping our respective spouses comfortable and happy with things is a big part of that.

What it comes down to for both of us is balance and respect for each other's marriages. Master would not transform me so much that my husband would not be happy with who I had become, and He intuitively knows where that line is. If there were any questions about that line, He has a good enough relationship with my husband to talk to him about it.

Also, I'm very good at context switching and I move between headspaces fairly fluidly. That's how I can spend a week with my Master being used, beaten, and utterly degraded...and then come back to my husband and be the attentive, somewhat goofy husband he is used to. It's not for everyone, but so far it's working really well for us.

A couple of years ago, before Master was my Master but still a Sir I served ocassionally and was friends with, He gave me a mentra to repeat every morning. At the time He gave it to me, I wasn't in the best place. I was fresh out of the relationship I had with my first Sir and still recovering from that loss. I was feeling very lost. The mantra He gave me then was designed to remind me every day what I should be looking for through my service and submission. It was very helpful.

When I started exploring serving Master full time earlier this year, He had me resume saying my mantra every morning, which I loved. But the further we got into our relationship, and especially after He collared me, I began to feel that the mantra was in need of updating. I'm in a very different place than I was when it was written for me, and I felt like it needed to include more about my service to Master. I approached Master with my thoughts, and He agreed.

So as part of my ongoing training as His slave, He recently tasked me with rewriting my mantra as a daily affirmation of my service. It needed to include an acknowledgment of who and what I am and my role in our relationship, and an expression of my desire to serve my Master. So now every morning when I rise, the first thing I do is kneel, bow my head, place my hands behind my back, and recite this.

I am a slave. I have the heart of a slave and the desire for a life of service I crave structure and discipline, use and degradation I choose to submit because I know that surrender is freedom My submission is my strength

I am my Master's slave. I am His owned property I am His to command and His to use I will obey and serve Him with everything I am Because in service there is purpose, peace, and happiness

I had the opportunity to switch again, a repeat session with one of the boys I've written about before.

I learned the first time that he has a fairly low pain threshold, but I wanted to probe the borders of that a bit more to get a better idea of where I could take us. So I started the session with a good spanking and a little paddling. Nothing too intense, but it didn't take much to get him to the edge of what he could take. Still, he took it well, and I had fun giving it to him. After we were done, I moved us on to some things I knew he would enjoy more, like having him on the floor licking on my boots. At some point he was enjoying himself so much that he quickly and unexpectedly shot a load all over the floor.

Now, I had given him permission to touch himself, but not to cum. I was glad he had a good time, but I also knew I needed to establish firm boundaries and expectations if we're going to keep exploring things together. So I calmly but fimly explained to him that he had crossed a line he knew he shouldn't have, and told him to go get the paddle off of my bed.

I gave him 10 more good licks, making him count each one and thank me for it. I could tell he was struggling with them at the end, which I wanted; I wanted to make sure he understood the concept of discipline early on in his submissive journey. And I was fully expecting to then hold him and explain that his discipline was over, he was forgiven, and we were moving on. But when we got the end, things took a turn.

He started sobbing almost immediately after the last blow. He had turned inward, and the discipline scene had hit on something very deep and very raw. I was disappointed in him. His husband was disappointed in him. His coworkers were disappointed in him. Because he was bad, and he ruined everything....

I had clearly stepped on an emotional landmine. And now instead of it being the ultimately affirming scene I had planned on, he was lost in these powerful feelings of shame and inadequacy. I knew I had to step in and keep him from spiraling down further.

Luckily, I'm pretty good in situations like this. I immediately went over to hold him, touched him gently and told him that far from being disappointed in him, I was vey proud of him! That he had taken his discipline very well, and that meant that all was good again. That he had served me well and I was extremely pleased wth his service. That he was a good boy. That no one was disappointed in him, least of all me. He came back to me, slowly. He finally stopped crying and relaxed in my arms. I asked him what he needed the most right then; he wanted a hot shower. I prepared one for him, got a towel, and hung out talking with him in the bathroom while he recovered. After that we laid in the bed and cuddled and talked about what had happened. I explained to him that when you start pushing your body in new ways, especially with pain, you can enter into a state of vulnerability that can allow some pretty powerful emotions to come to the surface. That I had been there myself. Many times. That he shouldn't feel bad about it at all, and that hopefully he actually felt better for having worked some of it out of his system. He left feeling good about it I was just thankful I had been able to help him get through it and understand it a bit.

Having said that. Man. I realized in a new way the responsibility that comes with being a Dom. I care about this boy a great deal, and when I could see how much distress he was in at the end of the scene that I had planned and put him through, I felt awful about it. I'm not saying I thought it was my fault; I didn't do anything wrong, and I had no way of knowing I was stumbling into a very sensitive area for him. But it was still my responsibility. He was my responsibility. That's the deal, his service for my guidance and protection. And I could really feel the weight of that responsibility when he broke down. In those first few moments when I didn't know how far down that hurt had gone, I was really worried and keeping a wave of panic at bay.

I thought a lot about my Master, afterward. I'm one of those people that feels things very intensely myself, and for me good BDSM is a very emotional experience. I have broken down far more severely than what the boy did at the end of more than one hard scene with Master. Christ, I've rolled around on the floor and howled like a wounded animal. And every single time, Master has been my rock. Unflappable. He's always taken care of me, treated me affectionately, given me what I've needed, brought me back to myself. He's always shouldered his responsibility for me in these times with a seeming ease and sense of limitless strength. I could not go to the places I go with Him were that not so.

I was recently able to spend an entire eight days visiting my Master. I've spent time at His Home before, served Him there many times. But this was my first time visiting as His collared slave, and I knew that things would be different. I knew they needed to be. Our relationship is shifting as we are both embracing our new roles with each other more and more, and this visit was going to need to reflect that reality. This visit was going to be about starting my training to be His slave in earnest.

That was apparent from my first full day there. Master had to work and I woke up to a chore list in my messages. I had a whole day of domestic service: cleaning, laundry, yard work, food prep. I absolutely loved it. I loved knowing that I was making Master's life just a little bit easier by taking care of some things for Him. Service of any kind feeds my submissive soul.

I also loved greeting Him as He came home from work, kneeling in His entry way in only my jock and my collar.

That night I was told that I would not be sleeping in the guest bed. No, I was not going to be afforded that kind of comfort. Instead I was going to be sleeping in the closet of the playroom, in a cramped little cubbyhole that He had made for me on one end of the floor (I at least had a couple of pillows and a small blanket). Furthermore, I was going to have two puppy mitts locked over my hands and a thick nylon hood over my head. And because of my limited ability to move in the night, well...I was also put in a diaper. It was at that moment that the reason He had been having me practice pissing my pants became clear. Diaper play isn't really a thing for either one of us, but as a tool to enable a long term scene it worked. Somehow even in those conditions I managed to get a little sleep.

In the morning Master released me. I did bath service for Him (warmed His towel in the dryer and dried Him off after His shower) and then prepared breakfast for us. We ate it on the back deck, Him at the table, me at His feet eating from my dogbowl. After eating He had me spend some time under His rimseat servicing Him. Rimming hasn't always been my favorite, but He's helping me discover my love for it because I know how much HE loves it. At some point I told Master I really needed to piss, so He had me lay down on the deck and had me piss all over myself while He pissed all over me as well.

And that was it. With that, my descent into subspace was complete. I lost myself in it.

I remember standing up, covered in piss, feeling so submissive and owned, a growl starting in the back of my throat, and wanting only one thing: my Master to hurt me. He could sense it too, and he was happy to oblige. He wailed on me, holding me still and slapping me in the face, punching my chest. Ii was reduced to a submissive animal, grunting and growling and begging for more with my eyes. The beast was out. When He was done, He just stood there for a minute staring into my eyes. A smile crossed His face, and He simply said: "There you are. I've been waiting. I've missed you."

I believe after that He bred me good, but my memory is a little fuzzy due to how far down in subspace I was.

The next day started with morning service similar to the previous day. Breakfast from my bowl at His feet, spending time under His rim chair while He enjoyed a morning cigar. In the afternoon He wanted to take me out to the woods, string me up between two trees, and beat me while I screamed in a place no one would hear me. But it got too hot for that, so afer deciding to abort the plan He took me back to His home to beat me in his playroom instead. For the next few hours He beat me with his paddles, belt, strap, floggers, and quirt, until I was red and bruised. It hurt to sit afterward. I needed it. He needed it. When it was done I kissed his boots and thanked Him for it.

The next several days are a blur of service and training, but here are some other things that stand out.

I wasn't allowed to sit on the furniture in His Home this time, another part of shifting me into my new role. One exception was after that intense beating, my ass was so sore that He allowed me the kindness of sitting on the sofa instead of the floor for the evening.

There was a morning spent at His feet on the deck reviewing the completed assessment that I had submitted before my arrival, discussing hard and soft limits, things I am curious about exploring more with Him. Seeing how important it is to Him to know His slave completely just fueled my desire to serve Him even more.

Master gave me my first ever milking. I had been in chastity for a month before I arrived, so I was pretty backed up. He bent me over the fuck bench, worked His fingers into my hole until He found my prostate, and then massaged it hard as the cum started dribbling out of my locked dick. It was a very intense, very strange sensation. I could feel the cum coming out, but there was no pleasure like with an orgasm. Just an emptying. It was....humbling. Master said I looked sad as I eyed the pool of cum on the floor that He had worked out of me.

I've recently picked up some basic bootblacking skills, and I was able to use them on my Master's (and his husband's) boots for the first time! One of my favorite memories from the week is sitting at His feet, us both enjoying good cigars, and chatting while I cleaned His boots and made them shine. They looked great, and He was proud, and that felt wonderful.

We spent an afternoon reviewing positions and protocol that He expects me to learn and know. I absolutely loved experiencing this kind of training, learning to become more of the slave He wants me to be.

One morning while I was eating my breakfast out of my dog bowl, Master decided to help me but putting His feet in my bowl and lifting bits of food up and into my mouth with them. After doing that for a while, He then fed me the last of it out of His hand. I felt even more degraded then. But it also felt tender, somehow.

I drank so much of His piss over the course of a week. He spared me a couple of the more rank morning times, but otherwise He used my mouth instead of a toilet as much as possible.

The last morning I was there, He bent me over the chair in the playroom, made sure I couldn't see anything, and then retrieved a mystery item to beat me with. It hurt a lot, stung and bit into me, even though I could tell He wasn't using it at anything near full force. Afterward He showed me that it was a thorny vine, thorns still intact, that He had gotten out of His front yard.

Even on the days where He didn't seriously beat me, I had maintanence spankings every day, to remind me of who I am and what my place is. The one I had the day after that first beating, when my ass was already bruised and sore, was certainly an effective reminder.

I loved all the ways I was able to serve Him domestically while I was there. Even after that day devoted to domestic service, there were plenty of opportunities to do little things around the house: clean up after dinner, put things away, spot cleaning, fetching needed items. One of the things I miss the most because of our distance is being able to serve Him like that on a more regular basis.

During one of our morning rimchair sessions, He was enjoying a good cigar while I ate His ass and He ashed all over my belly and torso, smearing it on me until I was covered in it. He then pissed all over me, just relieved Himself while I was still working hard on His hole, and that just made the ash stick to me more. He loved having that dry on me and making me sit around like that all morning, covered in piss and ash.

Even though most of time was spent in service mode, we still got to spend more relaxed time with each other and His husband as well. Watching TV (with me on the floor while He sat on the sofa next to me), going to the movies, working out together, going out to see a band one night, we even had a beach day! I really like that we get to enjoy our relationship on so many different levels.

Master and I talked it over recently and He has agreed to rescind the “it” pronoun directive. We both realized that it wasn’t working for us. Neither of us were being very consistent in using it, He didn’t seem very interested in enforcing it, and after trying it for a while it just wasn’t feeling quite right. We both agreed that these things should feel natural and organic for them to be truly sustainable. So it’s gone.

I’m really grateful that Master was approachable on the subject, allowed me to speak my mind freely, and listened to what I had to say. Now, if after talking it through He had decided that He wanted it to remain in place, that would have been that and I would have complied with His decision without complaint. He may want/allow my input, but at the end of the day it’s always His call. Still, it's important to me that He wanted to hear my thoughts and was open to listening to His instincts and being flexible.

One of the things I am finding I love the most about our relationship is that it truly feels like a collaboration. It is a living thing we are discovering and building together. I think part of me almost expected that more of that would be taken from me at this point of the process. And to be clear, I have ceded a lot of control and a lot of my power. He is in complete control of my sexuality. He owns all of my time outside of what is needed for my marriage and my job. He knows the lengths I will go to in the name of obedience. He is not hesitant to demand and expect what He wants. He is my Master and I submit to Him in all the ways that I am able. Still, He wants to know me. He cares for me. He wants my service, no matter how hard it may be at times, to be ultimately fulfilling for me. He is invested in my development as a submissive and as His slave.

And knowing that, feeling that, fuels my submission to Him even more intensely. It deepens my trust in Him. And that helps us go further into exploring and developing the dynamic between us. It helps me submit further.

In just a couple of days it is heading out for a long visit to its Master's home. This visit will be different than the ones it has had before; it will be its first as Master's collared slave. Master intends this visit to be about breaking it in as His slave, transitioning it further in its new role. This is when its training begins in earnest. it does not know exactly what Master has planned, but it has gathered things will be ramping up to a new level of intensity, both physically and mentally.  it is somewhat nervous about what will be required of it and done to it, but mostly it is eager to start moving further down the path to what it is meant to be. And it trusts its Master.

In preparation for this, Master has sent it a collection of assessment paperwork to complete before its arrival. It is incredibly detailed. Much of it is about who it is as a person and what it desires out of life in general; this shows that Master is not just interested in it as His slave, and also that He knows that who it is as a person informs who it will be as His slave. But there are parts that are specifically about who it is as a submissive, as a slave, and what it is seeking out of being its Master's property. it is very lucky that it has a Master that is so invested in truly knowing and understanding His slave.  

The other night it sat and went through a lengthy section on its BDSM related experiences and desires. There was a very long list of activities and items, and for each it had to indicate if it had any experience with that thing, and what its interest level in that thing is. For a hard limit it was to put down a "No" for interest, for a "soft" limit a 0. To indicate something that it does not like at all but would submit to for Master, it was to answer with a 1; for something it would be happy if happened all the time, a 5. Some of these answers were easy (why yes, it would like to suck Master's cock and be His urinal as often as possible), but many required more thought, particularly around hard and soft limits.

A friend recently advised it that it was important to be honest with itself and its Master about its limits at this particular point, and to not get so caught up in its excitement and eagerness to please that it doesn't draw the right boundaries for itself. It was very good advice. There were a couple of activities that are currently hard limits but which in the future it might allow Master (and only Him) to do. But it's not there yet. Maybe it won't actually get there. And if it does, that hard limit can be renegotiated in the future. But for where it is right now, it knows that it is not ready, so hard limits they remain. 

It is a humbling thing to be spelling out in black and white the terms of its surrender. There are things on that list that it doesn't like, that it really hates in fact, that nonetheless it is telling Master it will submit to for Him. it intends to give Him as much as it can possibly push itself to give Him. At the same time, it is having to give voice to its darkest desires. it is going down a list of various items He will use to hurt it and admitting that not only will it allow Him to do so, it very much wants for Him to. it is admitting how much and to what degree it wants Him to degrade it. it's opening itself up to Him all the way. it is setting its path in stone. There is no going back after this.

Master gave me a new directive recently: When I am speaking with other people that are part of the BDSM community, whether via text/email/chat or in person, I am no longer to use personal pronouns to refer to myself. "I", "My", and "Mine" are out. Instead, from now on I am to use only "it".

Master's thinking on this is twofold. One, it establishes my new role as a slave and as owned property in the wider community. Two, it will help me internalize my new status myself, and specifically will help reinforce my understanding that my personal will is no longer a consideration in most instances. Language can shape reality, and with this directive He is furthering the process of reshaping mine. It's no longer about me, it's about Him and what He wants.

He has generously given me some time to implement this directive, knowing it will take some getting used to. It's definitely much easier in writing than it is in face to face conversation. A lifetime's worth of training on how to speak is hard to put aside. It feels awkward, it doesn't flow naturally. I get self-concious about it and I find myself stumbling to correct myself frequently. This directive is not a choice I would have made for myself. But this is what Master wants, so I will learn eventually. It's in this kind of directive where the rubber meets the road, actually.

The directive includes this Tumblr, so don't be shocked when my next posts are devoid of personal pronouns. From here on, I'm not a me anymore.

Master Bill came to visit me this past weekend. W/we've gotten to a point in what W/we've been exploring that it was time for Him to meet my husband, a necessary step for U/us to be able to take things to the next level. I wasn't too nervous about this; I know them both well enough to feel pretty sure they would get along and like each other. And I was right. I actually spent a good bit of the weekend hanging back just watching the two of them interact, basking in that feeling of watching two people I care for very much enjoying the process of getting to know each other. It couldn't have gone better.

At the end of the visit, Master and I had some time alone and W/we sat and had a long talk about O/our future together; O/our hopes, expectations, and desires for the road ahead. W/we've always been able to communicate with each other very well, one of the many reasons I feel like W/we're going to be able to make this work. As the conversation wound down, W/we both felt confident that W/we had a shared vision for the journey ahead. I thought back to a couple of years ago when I went to go visit Master for the first time, and how at the end of that trip W/we agreed that W/we were opposite sides of the same coin. That feeling has only grown and culminated in where W/we are now.

And then it happened. He gave me a training collar. W/we had talked about the possibility before He arrived, so it wasn't out of the blue. But I still had to fight back tears of joy when the moment arrived. The road to get here was long and had a few twists and turns along the way. But as I looked into His eyes and felt the weight of His collar around my neck, I knew that I had finally ended up where I'm supposed to be. He told me that earning His permanent collar will not be easy, that He will test me hard and make me work for it. That He intends to break me down and remake me into what He wants His slave to be, and that the process will be painful for me at times. And I know that it will be. But I have no doubts that it is what I want. That it is what I've always been looking for. He sees me, and He knows me, and He understands what I am and what I need.

Afterward W/we celebrated the occasion appropriately; He beat me good. He tortured my tits, He paddled my ass, He laid into my back with a rubber baton and a brand new braided flogger that He had bought earlier in the day. I have marks I can still feel this morning, the best kind of reminder of a special day. And to top it off, He released me from my chastity cage, put my balls in a ball crusher, and let me jerk off and cum for the first time in three months while He crushed my nuts. I shot a fountain of jizz. It was glorious.

The directive was simple, and one that is probably common in the D/s realm: from now on I am to address the Doms that I interact with, either online or in person, as SIR (or their preferred title) as a way to show my deference to them and to further establish who and what I am. Honestly, it's not that far of a leap from how I already interact with the Doms in my life. A small alteration in my normal behavior. But it still sent me reeling into subspace.

It wasn't the details of what was being ordered, it was the fact that it was delivered as a permanent directive. Master Bill and I are entering a new phase of the relationship W/we are exploring. Up until now, most of the directives He's given me have been been temporary, either a specific task that needed to be performed or a reoccurring instruction that only lasted a few days. And that's been good for these past months as W/we've been taking O/our first tentative steps down the road together. But we're further along now, and the steps are growing larger. Master is becoming bolder in His claiming of me.

There have been more. I am no longer allowed to piss standing up, not even in the shower. When I sit to use the toilet I am not to sit on the seat, that's a creature comfort I am no longer entitled to; I am to sit on the porcelain rim instead. First thing in the morning I am to rise and recite my mantra on my knees, await word on being allowed to take my morning piss, and file my morning report with Him (how the previous evening ended, how I slept, what my itinerary for the day is, etc). And I know more are forthcoming.

This is how it works. It has taken my brain a bit to wrap itself around what is happening as the changes have started coming quickly. It's one thing to offer a Man your power and volunteer to give up Your freedom, it's another to see and feel Him taking it and starting to reshape your reality. These aren't changes that are for this week or until His next visit; this is my life from now on, at least for as long as I am in His service, which I hope will be a very long time. What will the next directive be, the next change to how I move through my day? I don't know. Within the boundaries W/we have agreed on, He has free reign and I do not know how He will use the power I have surrendered to Him. It's an exhilarating and sometimes scary feeling to truly be giving up control.

It drives something home: this is not a game, and this is not play time. For me, being a slave isn't something I slip into and out of when it's convenient or when I feel like it. It's not a good time for the weekend. There's nothing wrong with those things, but the magic I am seeking lies down a different path. This is is about building a real relationship founded in a power exchange dynamic that W/we both very much want. And like any real relationship, sex (no matter how kinky) is only a part of it. The structure He creates out of the power I have ceded to Him is the true backbone of what will bind U/us together and fulfill the deep needs W/we feel inside.

And I respond well to structure. I crave it. So while it can sometimes be jarring and maybe a little scary when I am told a new way my freedom is being taken away, it is ultimately calming. It makes me feel peaceful, cared for, protected. It makes me happy.