. . . made me tell him everything in person.

I tried to be a good girl yesterday (read: masturbate) for Master while he was off walking (he likes it when I do that sort of thing) and instead of feeling good about it, I felt more down.

Master says to me yesterday, "life's no fun when you're miserable" and I think, then don't make me miserable.

I was sick all weekend. Except for a stuffy nose (better than an ear infection), I'm pretty much physically better. But emotionally, I just felt more down as time went on.

Here's why.

I wanted to do the polite thing and introduce Master to the father of our daughter's friend during a field trip. Master wouldn't let me because he didn't care. It's not about caring. It's about being polite, and it hurt that he wouldn't let me do the socially polite thing. He's always up in arms about proper internet etiquette, but in real life that doesn't seem to matter. It also bothers me that he wasn't at all interested in meeting a person who has some influence over our daughter. . . But seriously, why can't we be polite in real life?

It was my birthday. I feel differently about the Prop 8 issue than Master does. During the course of a meal at a restaurant with his parents, we're there because it's my birthday, Master managed to bring up the decision made by the court, which was fine - I even said that with the current marriages staying intact that in a few years someone would say hey, if they can do it why can't I (not quite like that since he interrupted me, but whatever), he managed to insult me. Why couldn't we have left it at that? In a few years, a few, like a handful, prop 8 will be completely over turned, why did he have to go out of his way to insult me? Why did he have to encourage further comment, forcing me to stay silent on the issue in the effort to preserve harmony for what was supposed to be a pleasant outing? It really frustrated me and hurt my feelings. My father in law noticed. He gave me the kind of smile that he does when he knows I am making an effort to preserve the peace.

These first two things had nothing to do with being sick, these were things I was already going to talk to him about but then, I just started feeling worse after being sick all weekend.

The place is a disaster. Now, it wasn't perfectly clean because I got eaten by finals, but the place was worse off cleanliness wise. I had to do three days worth of dishes. Why, why couldn't he have at least done the dishes while I was sick? I did a batch while sick and then another yesterday.

On the second day that I was sick, I went to go talk to my clergyman about getting food orders from the church because it's been a month and Master still has no job. Why couldn't Master do that for me? I should not have been there exposing people to my illness. I know that Master is not of the same religion as I am, but the clergyman would have listened to him too and would have understood that I was sick. . .

On the first day I was sick I needed Master to go get our 72 hour kits we had ordered, but he didn't. All he had to do was drive down to the church and pick them up, they were already paid for. He couldn't be bothered, and would get upset with me in my fevered state when I would mention it. The email address isn't working so now I have to go through the high school to find the people I ordered from. Why couldn't he have alleviated this worry? When I mentioned what I was going to have to do to try to get the order and how it would have been so much simpler if he had just picked them up his response was "meh". This was upsetting to me. He doesn't care that we may lose out on $40 and that now I have to spend time dealing with this instead of on something else? He doesn't care because it's not him dealing with it? It was so, casually mean. . .

On the second day that I was sick I ended up having to make dinner. This was upsetting to me because I was still too sick to do it! Yes, I could manage it, but I was SICK. I should have been in bed, working on healing, not making food and trying not to breathe on it. I don't understand why it is that the moment I can stand up Master stops taking care of me. He's always been like that, even before we became Master and slave. But when he's sick I've always made sure he'd take it easy for a few days. I just don't understand it. And it really hurts my feelings.

I cried twice last night. But quietly because I didn't want to talk to him about this. I didn't want him to interrupt me or to get mad at me. He gave me a hug last night because I looked like I needed one while I was getting ready to fall asleep. That was true, I did. He said it looked like I wanted to say something. I said no, I didn't want to *say* anything. I wanted to write it, because at least then I'd be able to say my piece. (I am suddenly uncertain as to which piece should be here, peace or piece, hm.)

Anyway, I guess that's it.
Oh yeah, Master, you need to talk to talk to unemployment and see why the check isn't here yet. I'm reminding you here because I don't want you to get mad at me for mentioning it even though I'm *supposed* to help you remember this stuff. Reminds me of our kiddo. "Do you have your backpack?" "Yes, Mom" with a big exasperated sigh.

Okay, I guess that it for real now.

Yes, really. Mine's (relative mine since you know, I don't own the man) the best. (My Daddy is better than your daddy!)

He is letting me go to a scrap booking group every month (yay for the no nagging strategy, I had to wait two months for an answer).
He is letting me go to the chiropractor! YAY! I get to see the back doctor!
Upon being well, he uses me nice and thoroughly (he even had me get dressed up for it).
He says he's too damned nice. Maybe that's so, but he makes me happy.
As long as I'm a good girl and please him he is very much willing to grant me more privileges.

I am grateful that he does not limit my computer time. I just have to get all my work done and not neglect the little one and it's all good.

*swoon*

I love my Daddy.


Ack, homework, must do. *sigh*

So Master emailed me fifteen hours ago. He told me to read this: http://www.ofthislife.net/blog/?p=627 then to post about it here and then we'll talk.

Whenever Master says we'll talk I instantly feel like I'm in the dog house. Maybe I am.

Last night Master was taking DayQuil instead of NyQuil. I asked him why because it's the NyQuil that will help him fall asleep. He got annoyed with me and told me to hush it. I turned (he had given me his water bottle to fill) and I said whatever. He told me to please assume that he had a good reason for taking DayQuil instead of NyQuil. At least I was smart enough to keep my mouth shut at that point. His reason turned out to be because he wanted to drain his ear and still be awake enough to enjoy getting sucked on. (Now I'm thinking, well we could have done that and then he could've taken NyQuil so he could sleep afterwards...)

I did complain some about that but only because it hurt my jaw and he was having me do it for a long time. My jaw is STILL sore from it. I don't think he understands how painful it can get, even when I do relax it. My jaw pops when I open my mouth wide and when it does it moves out of place, which probably is one reason why it's difficult for me to continuously deep throat, especially with any sort of speed.

Later I had to ask him to be careful with my head because he was holding my hair so tight while pushing me down that I very nearly got a migraine. He's never held my hair tight like that before, so I don't know if he was just really into it and wasn't thinking or what. He was more careful with my head after that, though it does bother me that he didn't care if he hurt my jaw. I swear it'll never get better because he keeps abusing it. It's not so bad if he only abuses it a little bit.

Maybe I'm way off base. Maybe last night had nothing to do with him wanting me to read the article linked above, maybe he was just giving me a reminder. Oh, in the article are three steps. Shut up. Listen. Do what he says. I think I'm okay with that much of the time, but if I don't understand why I'm doing something I ask questions. I've always been encouraged to ask questions because blind belief or blindly doing what someone says is not a very smart thing to do. Even Master has encouraged me in that vein. I hope he's not changing his mind. . . Sometimes he'll answer my questions and other times he'll say, "just do what I say" and I'll go do, but that's so much easier to swallow because of all the times he DOES answer my questions. I don't ask questions out of insolence but out of a desire to understand.

I will admit I was worried last night about wasting the DayQuil. We've had to sink a lot of money into the car and I didn't want us to have to spend money on more DayQuil any sooner than we had to, but that's not my problem. Master is the one that handles the finances. Sometimes it's still hard to let that go. I also was concerned about Master's health. He has this horrible habit of shorting himself on sleep, which makes him mores susceptible to illness. He is also on medication for his ADD which removes his ability to recognize the warning signs his body gives him that he's over tired and must sleep, so he shorts himself on sleep even more than usual. So, yeah, I worry about him.

I also was feeling a bit frustrated and depressed yesterday because I am not passing my statistics class. I know that doesn't help me deal with things like I talked about in the above paragraph.

I did ultimately please him last night which is good, but he did mention that I almost didn't get used last night and that I was lucky his annoyance with me was not as strong as his desire to use me. Erk. (Good thing i kept my mouth shut that second time eh?) That has happened in the past where I've annoyed him and he doesn't want to touch me, which really mucks with my sense of self worth.

Well, since I don't really know what exactly Master is thinking I suppose I'll just wait and see what happens when he talks to me. Gleep.

I posted this in the Alternative Lifestylers team on SparkPeople.com, a nifty free weight loss site. Some folk found it inspiring and one gal actually printed it which left me stunned and blushing.

The question was:

Is your goal weight just a number? what will happen when you acheive that number? I read in Dr Phil'd book some time ago that we expect reaching our goal weight to resole, health and emotional issues. poof we like ourselves. what do you expect to change when you reach that number? or do you expect it to change on the way?

My response was:

My first goal is just a number, because it's what Master wants. It is the first step. The reason behind that number is because I want to wear my old clothes that makes Master want to immediately take them off again. I want to run, I can run in my dreams and darn it I want to in real life too!

I want to play DDR without wearing tight clothes to prevent the slapping fat sound. I want to cause less problems for my creaking knee (yes it creaks and I'm not even thirty yet). I want to be able to have cake and ice cream on birthdays in twenty years and not have to worry about my blood sugar levels like my mother.

I want to be able to dance and have it actually look sexy for Master. I want to be more flexible in bed. I want to look at myself in the mirror and not see fat rolls and wonder how it is Master finds me attractive. I want to look at myself and say, yeah, I'm good. I want to conduct music in short sleeves and not worry about how stupid my flapping arms look. I want to learn how to eat only when I am hungry. I want to be a good example to our daughter so she won't have the same troubles I've had.

I want to run and not faint, I want to walk and not be weary. I want strength. I want endurance. I want to be able to kick ass, take names, and chew bubble gum (though I'll need a gun to help me with that since I en't no ninja).

I want to go hiking and not slow the entire group up. I want to bloody well live and not worry about my body letting me do so. I want to fix my defective brain and the only way to do that is to feed it healthy food and exercise regularly to increase blood flow. I want my brain fixed so I can be a better mother, a better slave, a better more Christlike person.

My body is connected to my spirit. It all goes together. You can not separate them, it doesn't work. I want to put it all together with all the correct puzzle pieces. I want to work to become something better, greater than myself, instead of being just a waste of skin easily forgotten in two generations. I want to be an angel of a sort on earth.

Master said that if I can manage to deep throat him and let him cum in my throat he'll be me the current Mage book and the rule book to go with it.

With me luck. . .

In May Master said Happy Mother's Day. Granted he had our daughter to help remind him but the fact that he bothered to say it meant the world to me.

Also in May Master made me a cake for my birthday. It was from a box of course, but he bothered to make me a cake! That was awesome. My present was a new computer. He built it for me.

Master had me cut my hair. We were thinking of going bald just to start over but figured going from long hair to no hair would be too much of a shock (and I'd look like a cancer patient) so now it's cut to shoulder length. It took that much of chopping off to get rid of the damaged parts of my hair.

Master upset me yesterday but I was quiet about it and it wasn't until after our guests left did I tell him about it. He apologized and is even going to give me a chance to steal the Shadowrun GM seat from him since game hasn't even started yet and won't for the next couple weeks.

Master loves me and when I remember that I can smile.

I made this for Master for Father's Day this year. It's prisma watercolor pencils and ink on watercolor paper. The scan doesn't do this justice, it's far more yellow and orangy than the original. There's more brown in the original, as well as flesh tone and the bruises more vibrant. Ah well. The price you pay for a less than stellar scanner.

Thursday night Master went to Leather Masters. He came home with lube and a flogger. Not sure what it's called, but it's leather, short and has many tails. I'm not allowed to touch it without permission.

Friday night came. My sister took our daughter out somewhere fun. He had me put out all of our toys (we only used one), and had me shower again (it had been hot that day). I also wore some nice black undies with a top on that was long enough to make it look like I was wearing a super skimpy dress.

He spanked me with hand, and then he got out the flogger and started using it. Soon my underwear was off, and it was on my bare bottom. Then I gave him head, then he started again, then I gave him head. Then he had me count (which got up to 160) but would pause to put his shaft inside my wet hole. The fucking was really hard and deep. Then I was on my back, and he was fucking me. Of course he paused for more flogging. While he was on top of me he would practically crush me, my chest and lower ribs were aching. At one point though he let me touch the flogger and explore then thing he was beating me with. When I turned it upside down it looked like a sea flower. I said as much. Master grinned and said, "does my little girl like flowers?" "Yes Daddy."

After 160 he had me stop counting because it was distracting me. Not sure from what, but after a while, I started to cry. Strangely enough it had a calming effect and I was able to just lay there sniffling while he beat me with the flogger.

He soon had me insert the butt plug but soon those plans were ruined due to it hurting me really badly. The pain was increasing while I was just lying there with it in me. So in the end Master fucked my cunt hard and then he came in my mouth.

Oh, but before that he beat my breasts. I had wanted him to do that with him in me, but alas, that was not to be. Ah, and also he flogged my back a little. He didn't do that nearly enough. I told him today how enjoyable that was and he promised he'd remember. 'Course, doesn;t mean I'll get that.

It was a good experience, though I still have a hard time saying yes I want you to beat me with that flogger. . . I'm sure that'll go away. It took me a long time to be able to say, please rape me. Though, that was before we were M/s so that probably made a big difference there. Master ask, "want me to use the flogger on you again" and I'll say sure, but I tend to be a bit flippant about it, as if that was some sort of self defense mechanism for a type of sanity that I don't really have. You know, the kind where no one in their right mind wants to be beaten?

I think I'm still feeling the effects. I've felt a bit disconnected to the world around me and my stomach as been queasy ever since Friday night. It was amazing I was able to get into character at all on Saturday for our Exalted game.

Though I have had some extra special mother daughter moments too. Hm, maybe suffering really is good for me, but then a part of me says oh hell no, but then again the suffering Master speaks of is different then the abusive suffering I went through as a child.

I made Master mad at me. It was my fault. I ended up yelling my frustrations out on his voicemail. His rent payment went through on our joint bank account, thereby making it heavily over drawn. I freaked when I saw it. I thought Master was at work. So I sent a voicemail saying that I'd log in to his account and take care of it.

To my suprise Master had changed his online banking password. Now, I know, logically, that makes sense. I mean, when we separated we thought it would be the end, but for some reason it really caught me by surprise. I had never felt the desire to login to his online banking account until now because I know that our bank will ream you up the arse on overdraft fees.

I also text messaged Master, thinking that maybe he could do something about it at work or on break or something, since I thought it more likely that he'll get to read a text message then listen to his voicemail.

As it turns out, Master was not at work, he was in the shower. I had misremembered when he had to be at work. I got a call back and Master was mad at me. I didn't realize how much I was actually raising my voice in the phone. I felt hurt that he didn't trust me (I know, hello, paragraph two). I wanted to fix it, I wanted Master to be happy that I was able to catch it and fix it (even though I wasn't sure if it was okay to login but I felt this was a financial emergency and he'd likely be okay with it, or easily forgive me). But no, suddenly, I didn't have the power to fix anything for him. He did get it all fixed though.

My day has not gone well. I've been worrying over this in the back of my head all day. I hate it when he's mad at me.

As an aside, why can't I ever manage to write when something good happens? Oy.

My energy levels are down. I haven't been able to last for twelve hours out of the day, and if I have to do more than one major thing that day, then I really am gone. I can't even manage parenting very well at the end of the day. . .

I was a good girl today, but again, it's not the same. . . I was all right for the first part of the week but I had seen Master two weekends in a row. I'm not going to get to see Master for another ten days.

I had a dream that I was me as someone else, but still me. . . I cut a man's upper arm, he was sitting next to me. He said something to me and had this look like I was crazy. I said it was nothing, and that I do it to myself all the time. And I started to cut my arms, but I felt a little afraid as I did so, like maybe I'd go to far. . . He got upset with me, and took my knife. He handled it gently though, and then I leaned my head against him, and he rested his head on mine. I sighed and closed my eyes. I woke up. I felt like cutting myself but I didn't because of my daughter. I remember thinking that the end of the dream felt nice. . .

I know that part of my depression has to do with hormones. I'm no longer on birth control pills and I have post birth control pill depression. Makes sense, but it's a problem when I already have issues. I figured this out about a week ago.

I know that I need to quit eating junk food. No cookies, no cake, or ice cream or any of that crap. I should only have diet cocoa and health bars in the way of chocolate. I've been wanting to ask Master to create a restriction for me, but that feels weird, especially since he's only ever restricted me from junk food as punishment. I'll admit that a part of me doesn't want to lose that control, but then again, I don't really have the control I need since I'm consuming too much in the way of sugary foods. That and, he knows what I consume. I track my food for him, and I figure he knows what he's doing in regards to me. Then again he's probably hoping that I'll be able to put myself back together on my own. I almost do. I think about it, I start to, but when faced with temptation, I fail.

I fail alone. I need outside facilitation to do anything consistently. People have always told me how strong I am, but on the inside I'm still just a crying little girl who wants her Daddy to make it all better. . .

I never realized that before. I've always wanted my real father to love me without reservation or condition, and to be good to me instead of abusive. I wanted him to magically change and make it all better. I used to think I wanted my Mom to make it better. . . but I was wrong. Hm. I'm not sure how I feel about this. Heh, I guess I'm still not over the abuse.

Bah.

I've been depressed lately.
I've had a difficult time eating right, partly because I'm mega poor, and partly because I'm depressed. So I have two things going against me. I've not been exercising and I've been having difficulties keeping my room clean, let alone getting my daughter to clean up her stuff.

I've been quick to anger, and testiness. Sometimes I feel like crying, but no tears ever come. When I'm depressed I cry less, as if detaching myself from my feelings is a good thing.

I'm having problems leaving my hair and nails alone, and every time I realize I'm messin' with them I get frustrated with myself since I KNOW Master doesn't want me to pick at my nails or rip out the ends of my hair. I got so upset one day I was seriously tempted to just cut my hair off. The biggest thing that kept me from doing it was the thought of Master. He would have been seriously pissed.

I've not talked to Master overly much on this subject because of two things. First being that before we separated Master had told me that he couldn't help me out of my spells of depression anymore. That he just couldn't do it anymore. The second reason is because for a while when talking to him on the phone he got mad at me for complaining/ranting about the things that frustrated me because he wanted to talk to me about positive things. I think about talking to him, but words always fail me. And then he gets off the phone. So now I just say, "I miss you" as if somehow that will magically convey everything I'm thinking and feeling.

I do miss Master. I'm not depressed when I'm with him. It's living with my mother and siblings that gets to me. I love my family of origin dearly, but it sucks to live with them. Now that Mom cleared out her storage there are boxes everywhere, and getting siblings to do anything around here is a pain, my mother has no spine, and people say they care, but their actions tell me otherwise. I'm taking a lot of units this semester, plus I have my little one and there are two men in this house with no job and a stay at home (not my mom, she works) who doesn't clean. Then they have the gall to be punks to me. It's gotten some better, but it really got worse with the whole weekly chore chart thing my Mom tried. I ended up having to do every chore on the list for the first time.

I feel stifled, under appreciated, I try to talk to Mom in various different ways and it feels like she's just being all passive aggressive with me and her whole body language reminds of when she was married to my Dad and she would silently not do anything that he said (he was an abusive bastard and seriously screwed my Mom up).

I have no freedom here. At Master's I can cook and clean to my heart's content. Sometimes I feel dead inside, other times I feel numb, detached. Then there's the issue of me trying to resolve to fight it and not let it get the better of me, to ignore the comfort foods, and to just clean my room and do things, and the next day it's like it never happened.

I feel worthless and unworthy of anything and everything. In fact, I was getting a blessing on Sunday to get set apart as a Sunday School teacher. After they say my name and what position I'm being called to, it got to the part where the dude doing the actual praying says some words, and immediately I thought, "no, don't give my any blessings." And what happened? He didn't go on. He just paused as if trying to receive direction from the Spirit but he wasn't receiving anything because of what I had thought. I realized this and soon realized, well, who am I to give God orders? If he wants to give me something I shouldn't reject it." (I see a lot of parallels between my relationship with Master and my relationship with God.) Then he dude saying the prayer went on for a little bit. Now I wonder, what if more would have been said if I had kept my freakin' brain shut?

This leads to me feeling like an idiot, and then I feel extra lousy which feeds the depression and the environment that I am in doesn't help either. What also doesn't help is that I'm worried that Master is going to just be really slow about us moving back in together. He won't make a promise and that's fine, but he's got ADD and I'm not there to help him stay on track and facilitate job searches or living quarter searches.

His ADD has gotten worse over the years. I know why this is but Master never believes me. It's the excessive caffeine intake and he just thinks I'm trying to push my religion on him whenever the subject comes up, when before I was okay with caffeine and that it wasn't until I did some research on it and ADD that I realized that caffeine makes ADD worse over time. He also needs HEALTHY food. It helps his ADD, but he eats horribly when I'm not around.

I took an online test to see if what kind of ADD he may have and the test suggested Inattentive ADD and that's totally spot on to my suspicions after all my reading.

I've been wanting to talk to Master about this too, but I feel like he's just going to start accusing me of forcing my beliefs on him when it has nothing to do with religion, but cold hard facts backed up by research. So, that, coupled with the other two aforementioned communication issues I am having right now with Master, along with environmental issues that I can't change, all feeds my negativity and depression.

The only thing that keeps me from falling into complete inactivity is school. Without it I would be a complete wreck. As of now I'm an incomplete wreck, so I guess that means parts of me are still working.

Oh, that led to a dirty thought which led to me being a good girl today which led me to thinking that masturbating for Master just isn't the same when you're depressed. I orgasmed on a low instead of a high. . . Weird.

Some people think that I take my dreams too seriously. I disagree. What they don't hear about are all the boring, mundane, humdrum, normal type dreams I have. The sort of dreams you dream every night. Some of my dreams are weird, and if they are funny weird I might relate (I quit telling the disturbing weird, mostly). However, some of my dreams are messages, and of those I am picky as to who I share them with.

I believe I have been avoiding this one for some time. I had this one oh, about two months ago or so. I know it's important. I know it is because it somehow relates to my recurring night terror. Yes, terror. I've had that terror come at me three times in my life.

Here we go:

I was in the city. It was dark, and damp. It was night. Everything was in black and white and grays. There were people shouting and moving fast. The only lights came from lamps in front of houses, and over cobblestone streets; and occasionally headlights from a passing vehicle or flashlights held by someone.

It seemed there was great emotional tumultuary things going on around me. I saw someone holding up an old style hand lamp at their front door, shouting. A car went past me. I remember feeling confused, and concerned.

Then I found myself on all fours, being taken from behind. I could not see my assailant for it was dark, but I knew that my attacker was a humanoid form, but what went inside me did not feel like a normal penis. I went into observer mode, and saw that it was not a penis. It was inky blackness, solidified for the act. It was sliding in and out of me in a hooking sort of motion, but it was hard and rough. It was painful in a very bad way.

Immediately upon this violation I looked for Master. He was soon at my side, kneeling on the ground, bending low so I could see his face. "I'm here!" he said. He squeezed my left hand. Master's worry and concern was made plain by his expression.

My voice full of gasping agony, I said, "Please, watch it Master. Make sure it doesn't hurt me more than I can handle!"
I grunted, bearing down the pain.
Master nodded. "Yes, don't worry, I'll watch over you."

Master squeezed my hand again. His eyes moved to my left, looking behind me. I nodded and cried out in pain. I think I heard chuckling laughter from behind, but it didn't sound right. Master then moved from my view and went to stand off to the side and behind me. I felt him watching the violation. No one else around saw what was happening to me.

Then I woke up in a panicked state.

How this relates to my old night terrors (which started when I was eight years old). . . The inky blackness is present. It's the darkness that chases me.

Here's my night terror.
I'm running. Gray mist is all about me, everything's in black and white. The street lights are the only source of light. I'm running on a sidewalk along a building, I look back to see if I can see the darkness behind me. I see nothing but more mist, but I know it's still after me.

I am terrified of the darkness. I know that if it catches me I will be swallowed up in it and everything that I hold dear would be gone from me. I will failed everything and everyone. All my dreams, and hopes, happiness, and everyone I love would vanish from me. I would not only be alone in a place absent of love and light, in absolute and complete blackness, but I would lose everything and everyone worth living for, causing them great pain in doing so.

I think that maybe I've run far enough ahead where I can trick it into believing I went a different way. I see mist in front me, but I see the sidewalk round off to the right. So I follow the sidewalk. Up ahead was more mist, but I could also see a fire hydrant (and now that I am typing this out. . . the building I was running along was one giant building, possibly made of brick, not various buildings).

As I turn the corner I look back to see if it's followed me. I see nothing and so I turn my head to face forward, at which time I'm at the fire hydrant, and BOOM, out of the ground the darkness popped out at me.

It was inky black, like oil, only more slick and it was so black as to be unnatural. The street lamp made the disjointed bulbousy shape shine in spots, especially the "head". There was no actual face, and it wasn't quite a humanoid form.

It vibrates at me, taunting me, making a strange noise that I have never heard before. As this occurred, I instantly skidded to a halt and screamed simultaneously.

I woke up screaming.

I've had this night terror three times. The only difference between them is that the inky darkness got closer to me.

So, here I have these night terrors about the inky darkness, and now it shows up again, only THIS time, I've been caught unawares and I'm being RAPED by it.

And Master is there. . .

My sister doodled this out for me while in one of her weird moods about a year ago. Master wanted me to post it, but I had misplaced it till today. It's a caricature of me, Master, and our daughter. Click on the image to see a bigger version.

Master has been messing with my head spaces lately.

The other day he fucked me in the ass after putting me in my little girl headspace. Little girl is only twelve years old and has been an active fucktoy for Daddy since she hit puberty at ten years old. Before that was subtle training. It was odd to be little girl while he was taking my ass.

I also have the young school girl headspace. The fifteen/sixteen year old school girl who routinely gets fucked by her teacher. She's at the same time a teacher's pet, and always getting into "trouble" and needing detention. I really need a school girl outfit so she can come out and play more often.

Then I have the bitch. The dog in heat begging to get fucked. Sometimes he'll call me bitch after I've been, well, bitchy. And then it's a double meaning. The willful bitch who needs reminding of what she is to her Master. This always seems to turn back into the first meaning though.

After that we have the slut, the easy girl who loves to masterbate and get fucked, any time, anywhere. This head space lends itself easily to other head spaces as well.

Then there's the whore. The girl who gets "paid" for her services in cum. This one was a surprise to me since Master doesn't lend or sell me sexually to anyone. I think for me it's more the fact that it's a derogatory term for a female that made it appealing. However, Master does lend other services I have to others. For example, cooking and cleaning for others, as well as me going to school so I can serve society in a positive way and provide another income to his household.

All of these and other aspects of myself, sexually and nonsexually, encompass slave. As a slave, I am a cook, a mother, a housekeeper, a companion to Master, a fuck toy, a cunt, and anything else he wants me to be.

Master has gone through all of these individually (sadly, school girl not so much), and now he's mixing them all up. He'll call me whore, and then slave and then little girl and then I don't know if I should call him Master or Daddy. I bet at some point he's going to call me a puppy dog. . . oy. So it messes with things, but that's all right.

At the end of it all, I'm still his slave, which is the ultimate of all head spaces.

Okay, I've got more to say on nipple piercings. I've read a bunch of stuff on it and I still don't like the idea. I've tried imagining myself with nipple piercings, roleplaying them being there, and when I do I feel fake. (I'm good at roleplaying so the fakeness was not because they weren't actually there.) I've even tried drawing a breast shaped like mine with a piercing. I've seen a bunch of pictures of female nipple piercings and I don't like the way they look. They are ugly to me.

Master says he likes the idea of putting a chain through nipple rings, linking them. Well, can't he get that same enjoyment by training me to use nipple clamps and then clamp my nipples and put a chain through those instead? The nipple piercings, on the other hand, along with the potential for complications, take so long to heal and are so incredibly permanent. . .

He also says he likes the idea of my nipples becoming more sensitive, but that's not guaranteed to happen. Besides which the mind is the greatest sex organ. Can't I make them more sensitive with my brain? He already says I react more now that he made me aware that I always physically react when he touches both nipples at once.

Another part in all this, that I've tried to mention to Master in a more subtle way, is my religion. Members are strongly discouraged to pierce their bodies except for medical purposes. If girls or women desire to have their ears pierced, they are encouraged to wear only one pair of modest earrings.

If Master tells me to get my nipples pierced then I will get them pierced. It'll sadden me deeply. I'll feel like I'll have to hide my body. I'll feel. . . defiled. But I'll still do it.

I've been out of it for some reason. I think it may have started when Master told me to do the dishes and I wanted to relax (I know that shouldn't be a big deal), or maybe it's when Master said that he liked the idea of changing me. I don't know.

I just wanted to relax a bit before doing dishes, he wanted me to do it right then and there. Master right now is out of work. He quit when the new boss took away his weekends, thereby taking away his ability to visit his daughter. In order to quit he decided to take our tax return money. That was no big deal. I didn't even bat an eye, however, he has no job, and has yet to start seriously looking for one (he has a three month cushion).

Me? I still have work. In fact I brought some work with me to do since Master usually sleeps longer when I am around. When summer school starts I'll become even more busy. I feel like I never get a break. I never have a day where I don't have to do anything, where I can just take a day to play a game all day long. I always have to cook, clean, work. . . not to mention being a mother. . . All week we've been having a Babylon 5 marathon, but I feel like I've missed so much of it (yeah, one night it was partly because I was reading The Curse of Chalion while watching it, as well as cooking and cleaning up afterward).

And ya know, it didn't bother so much until he forced me to do the dishes before I was ready to do them. The fact that he has no job and always gets to relax lately never crossed my mind.

Maybe it's that Master likes the idea of changing me. I don't know what that means. I know he wants to train me so I can do certain things sexually, like anal sex more often, and be able handle more pain. I know he wants me to get my nipples pierced. Personally I don't like the idea. I don't want to deal with that kind of pain, or having to worry about my nipples getting infected. . . I know that most people when they take out their nipple rings that the holes close up. I don't think it's going to be fast for me. My body scars easily. Also, to me such piercings do not enhance beauty and feels like graffiti (I feel the same about most tattoos as well).

It used to be that he thought that any body modification, including pierced ears was silly. I agreed with him. However, I was going to get my ears pierced after we separated as a mark of my new independence (I had believed that we were going to get a divorce), but then I didn't follow through with it. Well, Master collared me and after that I was thinking that maybe pierced ears would be nice so I can be more decorative for him. Master liked the idea, especially as a mark of ownership, and had me go to a professional piercer. (Though, if I had known that magnetic earrings existed I would rather have been decorative that way. Then if my earrings looked crooked I could simply adjust the earrings instead of being stuck with imperfect piercings.)

Well, I thought that was going to be the end of any body modification. Later he mentioned a tattoo, if I'm really good. He wants a small one. I could handle something small and simple.

Interestingly enough these are two things that I considered doing when I was in/just out of high school, but never did anything about them. So maybe that's what made them easier to accept, however, I thought that we still had an understanding about body modifications. And suddenly it's all changed. It makes me wonder. . . What other understandings are out the window?

In the throws of passionate phone sex with Master I told him I would masturbate for him everyday. I wanted to shoot myself for that, but okay. I've been trying to have good attitude about it.

Well, I must be doing something right because of the conversation I had with him via AIM (names have been changed).

iinarihoudai: Guess what?

Kindlyman: What?

Kindlyman: "What" has been guessed. Spill it.

iinarihoudai: Night before last I got to bed at 5am. I woke up two hours later and realized I Wasn't a good girl, so I started masturbating, however, I was still mostly asleep while I was doing so. My brother pushed my curtain open and said, "[iinarihoudai] you have a phone call." I was startled awake. Oops. He hasn't said anything. I had thanked him for waking me up, so hopefully he is clueless

Kindlyman: bwahahahaha

Kindlyman: Good girl, though.

iinarihoudai: Then, I had to be a good girl for yesterday since that was for the day before.

Kindlyman: Mmm.

Kindlyman: Multiple times in a row, girl?

iinarihoudai: Nay. I was reading the Sharing Knife, which triggered a memory thing with you, which made me a bit hot. It was late in the day, class didn't start till 5, it was a bit after 4 so I went into the library rest room and was a good girl.

Kindlyman: You little slut!

Kindlyman: *kiss* Good girl!

Kindlyman: What part in the book?

iinarihoudai: *giggles*

iinarihoudai: Uhm, the part where Dag and Spark were getting settled into the farm house

Kindlyman: It's not so hard to find time, is it?

iinarihoudai: Sometimes.

Kindlyman: *grin* You'll manage.

Kindlyman: I'm very happy with you.

iinarihoudai: *smiles* I thought you'd be happy about that one.

That's right, Master has plundered my booty!

I was giving Master head. While doing so he was playing with my cunt when he moved to my ass. We'd been slowly working on getting me comfortable with him playing with my anus. I was already really feeling hot and going down on him, whimpering with desperation. So this time, it didn't feel uncomfortable. This time, it felt weird, but good. He would push against it with his thumb but not actually go in.

I kept whimpering like a pathetic little puppy, wanting him to go deeper. Yet, at the same time I was nervous and afraid. What if I was disappointing? I believe Master asked me if he should put his finger in me, whatever the case may be, that happened (I was certainly giving enough signals for it but not actually committing due to the aforementioned fears). It was somehow relaxing, his thumb in me, but not deep enough. It felt strange, foreign but good, especially when hearing the sounds of Master's pleasure. Those moans were enough for me to want more.

Then Master put me on top of him. The ride was fun as always, but then he accidentally slipped out. I wasn't particular coordinated, so when I tried to get him back in he hit my anus instead. Talk about a Freudian slip! He looked at me funny. He asked me what it was that I was doing. I answered, "just playing." ::wigglewiggle:: (Cover up!) Master said, "Oh?" The sound in his voice was different and once more I had that burst of feeling in me. It was a sudden desire to please Master and go all the way. (What was I thinking? I mean, having his thumb in me a bit before was the first time anything was ever put into my ass except for a laxative pellet thing - whatever they're called.)

I was giving all sorts of signals of wanting to go all the way, but then I offered. Master repeated my offer to me and I whimpered out a unh hm. I asked to be on all fours since my arse would be more accessible that way. Master put on tons of lube and started poking at me. Master told me to push against him, and then, BOOM he was in me.

A part of me could hardly believe that I was getting fucked in the ass. No freakin' way. But there you have it. I felt like I needed to crap, but parts of it also felt good. It was WEIRD. What I absolutely loved was him moaning and sighing in great pleasure.

Now I had been in a bit of trouble. I had forgotten to pack the toys when going to visit him (there was a reason I forgot, but I forgot nontheless). I was told no orgasms that day and maybe no orgasms the following day. We only see each other every other week so that's one helluva punishment!

Well, in his delightfully breathy rumbly sexy voice he said, "for this, you get to orgasm." It took me a sec to parse that, but once I figured it out my fingers were at my cunt and clit in a heart beat. I orgasmed to my fingers fondling my clit. I couldn't believe it. I orgasmed as he fucked my ass but good. The first time.

It was wonderful to feel him cum inside me (I'm no longer on BC and we don't really like condoms so other alternatives are our usual route). I loved how he slumped forward, squeezed me and said I love you, all out of breath. He grinned like a mad monkey and his ego about doubled. But rightfully so. As Master told me, I exceeded his expectations and he was extremely happy about that.

I enjoyed the dominance of it. I like the idea that I can be taken in any way now. I like that my ability to please him as expanded.

While writing this I discovered something I didn't realize before. My ass was the only part of me truly a virgin. No one else ever got to touch that part of my body. Somehow, it was really nice to be able to 100% give him a first. It makes me happy.

I miss Master.
I miss having cyberfun with him.

I miss the digital camera. I know he likes it when I masturbate, but it's difficult to get the motivation to do so unless he's on the phone (which is difficult when you share your bedroom with a three year old) or if I have the digital camera (the darned thing broke). Without the ability to take pictures it just feels like a selfish act. I only ever did it because it pleased him.

I miss alone time with him. Real alone time, not the "we must be very quiet because the kiddo and other peeps are about".

I miss being able to use the few toys we have. Kinda hard to go crazy when we have to be quiet, or worried that the kiddo is going to wake up and open the door (no locks).

I miss not having to deal with stupid drama, and being with someone who doesn't see me as a selfish cretin who doesn't care for anyone else.

I miss being with someone who understands me and truly gives me the benefit of the doubt and believes in me and has time for me, and TALKS to me about things instead of stewing and complaining to others. . .

Master, I'm homesick.

::cries::