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I had the strangest experience yesterday. I was moody. Yeah, okay, so I was moody for no reason. I came home from work moody on Monday, stayed moody all evening, and woke up moody again yesterday. I didn’t try to rationalize it. I didn’t look for reasons or excuses. I was just cranky. I tried all the little tricks that I usually turn to when I’m in that state. I tried meditation. I deliberately thought positive thoughts. I wrote a list of things I was feeling grateful for. Nothing was working.
So, I came home from work yesterday, and Madam P wanted to know what was going on with me. I didn’t have an answer. “I’m fine” was all I said. We chatted a while. Madam could see that I was distant and stressed. After I’d had a chance to visit with her and relax from my work day, Madam took me by the hand and led me to the bedroom. She pulled me onto the bed and just held me in her arms for about 20 minutes. It was delicious laying there in her arms. I felt safe and protected and loved. Then she got up and started undressing me. Madam then ordered me into my cage. She said that she had planned to experiment by restraining me in the cage in a new playful position (for the fun of it), but that she changed her mind and just wanted me to relax locked in my cage and to “… think about who the boss is.” Madam P then covered the cage with a heavy blanket and closed the bedroom door behind her.
I laid there in the quiet darkness of my cage, naked and a little cold, and did what I was instructed to do. I thought about Madam. I thought about our contract. I tried to remember each of the 8 agreements that I signed up for when I surrendered my will to Madam. I didn’t feel any different laying there in the dark. I don’t know when or how it happened, but at some point my dark mood lifted so that when Madam unlocked the door and pulled me out of my cage sometime later, all that remained in me was gratitude and love for Madam P. As soon as I was out of the cage Madam commanded me to “SHOW” (on my knees, hands palm down, forehead to the floor, legs opened wide) so she could freely touch and caress me all over (partly because she likes to touch me and partly to demonstrate her absolute control over me.) Madam then dressed me in soft pretty pajamas and told me to prepare for dinner.
The rest of the evening, I was a completely different person. The cranky dark mood was gone, just gone. I had become my sweet, loving, affectionate self, just the way Madam P likes me to be. (The way I like me to be too.) The transformation was dramatic and it was complete.
I feel compelled to admit here that something in me feels silly. I feel weird for being so responsive to Madam’s control and guidance. See, I’m having this experience of my complete surrender to Madam’s control being extremely effective at helping me to be the sweet loving person I most long to be. Surrendering my will in this way somehow does not fit with what I’ve been raised to believe is “normal”. Somehow in my life I’ve been led to believe that people who allow themselves to be tied up, controlled, caged, beaten and humiliated are sick or not right in some way. And yet, from my earliest memories I’ve always craved all those things. I’ve craved bondage. I’ve craved total submission. I’ve craved doing what I’m told. I’ve craved in every detail this incredible loving dynamic that exists between Madam P and me. I’ve dreamed of Madam P all my life. And still there’s some small voice inside my head (I don’t even know whose voice it is) telling me that this is weird and abnormal.
Fortunately though, the sane part of me knows that the proof is in the joy. I’m living in complete joy being under Madam’s control. Madam is living in extreme joy as she grows into her power and dominance. And together we’re living in absolute joy as love and harmony expand and flourish within our marriage and within our home under Madam’s absolute command and guidance. What could be more compelling proof of the rightness of this total power exchange than our day by day joyful life experience?
And the good news is that each time Madam takes control and turns my dark mood to a loving mood, she’s training me away from the judgmental voice inside my head. Each time that Madam puts me through an exercise to train me away from bratty behavior and to train me towards total obedience, she’s breaking down that nagging negative feeling that I’m weird or sick, and she’s replacing it with the sweet feeling that I’m loved and protected. And each time that Madam sees with her own eyes how she can instantly and effortlessly guide her sweet slave girl/wife away from unpleasant behavior towards loving affectionate behavior with something as simple as 30 minutes of cage time or a spanking, Madam reinforces for both of us just how right and perfect this power exchange arrangement is for us.
I look forward to the day that Madam has finally, once and for all, trained that judgmental voice inside my head into complete silence so that all that remains is the sweet part, the loving part, the affectionate part, and the completely obedient part.
I love Madam P so much!
Missy
I love Madam P! I love Madam so much. I just can’t say it enough. I love Madam P!
Between the 2 of us, clearly I’m the big fat pervert. I’m the one who thrives on rough sex and being told what to do. I’m the one who craves total submission and objectification. When we first met and fell in love, Madam was VERY vanilla (with a mild dose of kink curiosity mixed in), and I was recovering from an abusive power exchange relationship. When Madam P and I met, I honestly believed that I was done with kink play and power exchange dynamics forever.
But here’s the awful truth: submission is in my blood. It is in my nature to submit. Those times in my life that I’ve attempted to ignore and deny my submissive nature (which is most of my life) have been disastrous. I’ve been unhappy, bratty, and unstable. I would wander through my life and relationships feeling chaotic and unfulfilled. There was this constant nagging feeling that I was missing something somewhere, and that feeling made it impossible for me to ever fully commit to anyone or anything. I was always vaguely dreaming that “the real thing” might come along some day and take me away. I had no idea what “the real thing” was, only that it was missing.
If I’ve learned anything, I’ve learned that being a natural born submissive has its hazards. I’ve been so drawn to live my life in submission that I’ve allowed myself to be used and abused beyond reason. Which is exactly why I feel blessed beyond words that Madam P has accepted my submission, that she came to this acceptance slowly and cautiously, and that Madam P loves first and dominates second.
So guess what. The real thing has finally come to take me away. Madam has grabbed my attention, my whole attention. She is that “real thing” that I’ve been waiting for my entire life. I never dreamed it would be this sweet, this good, and this beautiful.
***********************************
Madam really surprised me this past weekend. Madam P has very slowly been getting use to her position as Madam and owner of her own erotic slave-wife. Madam has struggled with everything she’s ever learned about appropriate behavior when it comes to how one treats those they love. Madam is not naturally bossy or “in charge”. She was raised to believe that corporal punishment is never okay, that you never hit people you love. Madam was raised to be soft spoken, obedient, to be the caretaker, to be seen but never heard.
Ever since we signed our power exchange contract, Madam has very slowly been easing herself into the very unfamiliar role of Dominant to her slave girl. What Madam has learned in that time (much to her surprise, I think) is that her slave girl really does seem happy and content in total submission. I think that Madam is just beginning to groove on the fact that, the more she takes charge of her slave Missy, the more her slave Missy seems to thrive. And it appears to me that Madam P is really beginning to delight, beyond her own expectation, in pushing herself (and her slave Missy) further and further beyond vanilla boundaries into greater and greater expressions of M/s power exchange dynamics.
On Saturday Madam took me to a large local play party. Earlier that afternoon we’d gone to a kinky vendor’s fair and Madam had bought a hot pink cane (her first cane.) Even though Madam had the cane with her at the play party that night, I really expected that we were just going to the party to see what others were up to. Imagine my surprise when Madam led me right to a big wooden cross in the middle of the large dungeon, started unloading shackles and padlocks, and began taking my clothes off. She then proceeded to lock my wrists to the cross, above my head, and ran a chain from my collar to the main support of the cross so that I couldn’t look up. To the beat of pounding heavy metal music and the assorted screams and moans all around the dungeon, whips cracking and floggers thumping as multiple scenes played out all around us, Madam began gently swatting my bottom with her new cane, over and over, in rhythm to the music. At first I felt self conscious, tied to that cross, my big round butt vibrating to Madam’s rhythm. As my butt turned redder and redder, Madam slowly increased the intensity of each blow, and every now and then she let loose with a powerful SMACK! across my butt, all sense of self consciousness disappeared, dissolved into screaming and writhing as Madam took me to my screaming, sobbing limit and then eased back again and again. For a little while she switched to a flogger, working my back and the backs of my legs, then she went back to work with the cane. I was aware of nothing except Madam, her cane and my butt… I had become one with Madam… it was glorious.
I won’t kid you; I did not think that Madam had it in her to administer that kind of a beating. And bear in mind that I’m not a masochist. Madam really, really surprised me… and I loved every minute of it. I felt so proud of myself that Madam asked me to take her beating and I accepted it without complaint or resistance. And I feel so proud of Madam for pushing herself way beyond her own limits, not just beating her slave girl, but doing it in a public setting! I felt so owned and proud of my Madam each time she had me stand and bend over so that she could show off to friends and acquaintances the beautiful welts and bruises that she left on my backside. Madam was beaming! I’m super, super proud to be Madam’s play thing.
Mmmm…. I just love Madam so much. There are simply no limits to what I would do for Madam P. I love her, I trust her, I belong to her completely. Madam P really is the real thing, and I’ve waited for her my whole life.
I am blessed.
Missy
I’m in uncharted territory here. I love to write, and I love to journal. Today, though, I find myself at a complete loss for words. Madam P seems to have crossed a threshold. Yesterday’s slave training exercise felt a lot like “experimenting with the lifestyle” got left behind, and “living the lifestyle” began in earnest.
I’ve never felt what I’m feeling today. I’m having a great deal of difficulty putting words to what’s happening inside my slave-heart. Madam P reached me at the core of who I was born to be, reached me at a level that I didn’t even know existed. Last night, Madam took possession of my soul; Madam used love, and she used complete domination and abandoned playfulness, and she drew out my inner being, my inner child… Madam won over my inner child. My inner child has never trusted another human being… until now.
I’ve been topped before. And I’ve surrendered before. But I’ve never been lovingly possessed, truly possessed, until now.
Madam took me in hand last night. She stripped me naked, placed shackles on my wrists and ankles, and earplugs in my ears. I was placed in my cage, wrists secured to the bars above my head, chain attached to my collar, threaded through the shackles around my crossed ankles, and secured to the bars at the side of the cage. Madam blindfolded me, locked the cage door, and covered the cage with a heavy blanket.
There was something so different about the way that Madam handled me this time. She was confident, authoritative. Madam knew exactly what she wanted to do with me. There was no hesitation. Madam made no inquiry into what I wanted. I felt, really felt, for the first time that Madam has finally come to accept me as her personal property, to love, to tease, to train, to do with what she wills. Prior to yesterday I honestly believed that my surrender to Madam P was complete, but I’d never felt the fullness of my surrender until last night when (I believe) Madam finally accepted my full surrender for the first time.
After Madam left me like that in my cage a good long while, and after she finished tormenting me to her heart’s content (poking me with sharp objects and spraying me with ice cold liquids), Madam lead me out of the cage and ordered me to “show” (hands and feet flat on the floor, ass high in the air, legs spread open wide.) I’d never heard so much authority in Madam’s voice as when she commanded, lips close to my still plugged ear, “Show! Get up!” Madam kept me in that position, screaming out loud with pain and ecstasy but not daring to fall or move, for quite a while. Then Madam did something that flipped a switch inside of my heart; I knew in a flash of insight that Madam was in total possession of my soul…. Madam grabbed the back of my knee and pushed my knees to the carpet, and then she grabbed me by the back of my neck and forced my face to the floor. That gesture, the authority and command radiating through Madam’s tight grip directly into the base of my skull, erased all illusions that my life is my own.
By the time Madam ended her carefully thought out training exercise last night, I knew what had just happened. Madam has come to understand who I am; she sees me like no one ever has before. And Madam has discovered the hidden fortress within her own heart where her dark, forbidden desires are kept hidden away, too terrible to let anyone know they are there. I believe that Madam has discovered that my absolute submission, my total surrender is, in fact, THE KEY THAT UNLOCKS THE DOOR TO THAT FORTRESS!
My heart tells me that Madam and I have become inextricably bound, over and above the incredible love we’ve shared over the years, over and above the bonds of matrimony. It feels as though we’ve wandered into a space from which no path of return exists. I hope this feeling is real. I hope that what I’m experiencing is more than some post-subspace after glow. Wouldn’t it be nice if this feeling goes on and on, day after day, year after year, lifetime after lifetime? Wouldn’t it be nice if my entire existence from this day forward can only be defined relative to Madam P’s existence? I love the feeling of that thought.
Missy
I haven’t updated here in a little while. Madam P and I have been a peculiar combination of relaxed and very busy. My art and work consume me sometimes. I get up each morning, put on makeup, dress, and go to work where I spend 8 to 9 hours wishing that I was with Madam instead. I come home in the evening and I dive right into my art. Madam and I get to enjoy each other’s company even as I work on perfecting my art. We play at it together frequently, plus I take frequent breaks just to seek Madam out and touch her… I love to touch Madam P; it’s one of my favorite things.
I’m not really going anywhere with this. I’m just missing the act of expressing myself in words, so I’m allowing the words to come, stream of consciousness style. It just feels good, like eating something that tastes yummy but has no nutritional value. That’s what this blog entry is; it’s a big bag of greasy potato chips to me.
Indulgent though this entry may be, I do have a little insight that I’d like to suss out. It’s been several months since Madam P and I began our 24/7 total power exchange arrangement, and I’m beginning to understand a thing or 2 about the dynamic. I believe that Madam is having fun. I know that Madam is enjoying having more control over my bad behavior. And I know that Madam enjoys to hear me scream, and as Madam’s play thing and complete submissive, I submit to Madam’s every whim when she feels like tweaking my nipple until I scream, or when she feels like picking up a hairbrush and paddling my butt until I scream and squirm, or when she feels like driving me to multiple screaming orgasms. (Madam is really, really good at that last one.) I grasp what I see and experience, and all appearances suggest that Madam is having a great time owning her whore of a wife/slave.
On my end, I find this total power exchange dynamic exhilarating, exciting, erotic, freeing, delicious… and a little mundane. The longer Madam and I live our power exchange all day every day, the more relaxed I become with it. I’m beginning to see that this is where it gets really, really good! I love being Madam’s play thing, servant, whore. I feel that there’s a settling in that’s occurring for me. I see Madam growing into her role, easing into one exciting realization after another of what it means to be in complete control of the woman she loves. Madam says “Lick my pussy”, and I say, “Yes Madam” and get to licking. Madam says “Sit here at my feet where I can reach you”, and I say “Yes Madam” and move to where she can reach me. Madam reaches into my shirt at any random moment and grabs a nipple and squeezes with all her might, and I make no move to stop her or resist and usually let out a little scream for Madam’s delight. Last night we went out for dinner, and Madam realized that she could assert her role by having me open doors and always enter rooms behind her; it was subtle, but sweet that Madam commanded and I obeyed. Or Saturday afternoon Madam thought it would be fun to put me in my cage with my wrists chained to the bars of the cage behind my back; it wasn’t punishment, but rather Madam was feeling playful and frisky, so she took the opportunity to have a giggle and get a little training in with her slave, just to make sure her slave girl knows her place. Madam called me to her, put shackles on my wrists and ordered me into the cage; I did as she commanded without question and without resistance. And by the time Madam let me out, I was so hot for her that I feared I might burst into flames.
The thing I love best about our power exchange relationship is the peace I feel in my heart most of the time. Sometimes I feel resistant to Madam’s orders, but I still obey. Madam is always fair and just, and she’s very attuned to the well being and needs of her slave. Madam always provides ample time for me to work on my art, to care for my bodily needs, etc. And even though a lot about our marriage dynamic has not changed, Madam has very wisely setup some day to day routines that keep me aware of my place as her slave-wife. I particularly love the bedtime ritual that Madam has created, allowing me to kiss and lick her feet, undress her, and brush her hair. Or whenever Madam is sitting on the couch, I’m trained well enough that I would no longer even dream of sitting on the couch beside her, but rather I automatically take my place on the floor at Madam’s feet so she can pet, carress and tease me as she desires.
I know that I’m built this way; I am a born submissive. At Madam’s feet is where I’m happiest. Obeying Madam’s commands is what makes me happy and content. I have a lot of years of bad habits to unlearn, all the brattiness, the smart ass remarks, the “don’t tell me what to do” attitude. Madam is helping me to get over all of that. Because the truth is, I’m not happy when I’m the brat, the sass mouth, and the arrogant shit. I’m happiest when I’m being obedient, even in the most mundane, day to day settings. I’m learning that living within a power exchange relationship isn’t all about punishment and bondage and cages and spankings and bruises and humiliation. All those things can be fun and can have their place in helping a slave to reinforce her submissive nature within the relationship. But the peace and the joy of a total power exchange dynamic is in the little surrenders: brushing Madam’s hair on command, relaxing into having my hair randomly pulled, simply doing what I’m told (sit here, stay there, carry this, move that…)
Anyway, that’s what I have on my mind this morning. I just wanted to say so.
Missy
I had a really hard night last night. This post might be a little disjointed because I’m still trying to formulate my thoughts; I’m trying to make sense of the nature of the meltdown I had last night. It would be helpful for readers to know that the art that I often make reference to in this blog is a form of performance art, so when I put my art out to the public, I need to be “on” and focused and at my peak. The meltdown I’m attempting to make sense of here has to do with a performance I gave last night. Ideally, when I step up to perform, I need to be in a “Zen” space, so to speak. That was not the space I was in last night.
I’ve been wearing Madam’s collar for two or three months at this point. So far, much of my transition from the petulant, bratty, moody, sulky, out of control potential-submissive that I was, into the completely owned and controlled slave that I’m becoming has been relatively easy. Bathing, moisturizing, putting on makeup, and getting dressed with this chain and padlock around my neck has become second nature. Of the eight agreements I made to Madam P in our power exchange contract, I’m realizing that obedience, working against negative ego aspects, and open, honest communication have all come relatively easily; these are the agreements I’ve focused on the most in the months since I became Madam’s slave girl. There are three agreements that I haven’t given a lot of thought to at all so far, and I think that last night’s meltdown and this blog entry have everything to do with these three agreements. This is where total surrender starts to get harder; this is where the rubber meets the road.
Of the eight agreements in our contract, the three that I’m referring to here are agreements five, six and seven.
5. I agree to inform Madam of wants and perceived needs, recognizing that she is the sole judge of what it is that I need or how these desires shall be satisfied.
6. I agree to strive toward maintenance of a positive self-image and development of realistic expectations and goals as defined and set forth for me by Madam.
7. I agree to work with Madam to become a happy and self-fulfilled individual that She can be proud of.
In other words, I’ve agreed to ask Madam for what I think I want and need, to stay positive, to make certain that Madam is aware of what I think I need in order to excel at my art, and to let Madam know what I believe I need in order to be happy. At first glance I was under the impression that these would be the easiest of the agreements to honor. Sure, figure out what I want and need with regards to the things that are important to me, and let Madam P know; what could be easier? What I’m coming to realize is that I’m not use to asking anyone for anything. I left home when I was 15 years old; I’ve made my way in the world primarily on my own. I’ve survived these decades by my wits and my intelligence and the sweat of my brow. I’m coming to realize that, in my life, I’ve been loath to count on anyone for anything; I’ve been slow to trust and quick to judge others harshly.
I love Madam P with every fiber of my being. There is nothing I love so much as to heap adoration on her. I love worshiping at her feet. There is nothing, NOTHING, that Madam could ask of me that I would not do for her. After last night’s meltdown I’m coming to realize that I’m failing Madam by not asking for the things that I feel I need. Last night I knew that I needed time to warm up and center myself before my performance, but I didn’t share that information with Madam. Madam had other plans of what she wanted us to do in the time prior to my performance, and I did what I thought a good slave girl is supposed to do, I blindly followed Madam’s lead, completely dismissing my own needs and not giving Madam the information or opportunity that she needed to make the best decision about how our evening was to go.
Because I failed Madam so completely, I had a meltdown, I gave a VERY poor performance, and I was moody and cranky all evening and this morning. This is my doing; I alone disrupted Madam’s harmonious household. I never gave Madam the opportunity to provide me with the time and resources that I needed because I’ve never learned how to ask for what I need. And here I’ve surrendered my life, my soul and my will to the one person I trust more than I’ve ever trusted another human being. This really is where the rubber meets the road. This is where consensual slavehood starts to become real-life. Learning to ask for what I want (because there is no other way I will ever again be able to have the things I need and want unless I ask for Madam’s permission) is the first HUGE barrier I’m coming up against in my evolution towards internal enslavement.
These are the growth experiences I signed up for when I handed Madam absolute control over all I am and all I have. I am blessed beyond all expectation that Madam has agreed and accepted my gift of total submission. I am becoming love itself.
Missy
I feel a little crappy today about something that happened last night, and even though I’m certain that Madam P has already forgotten about it (because she loves me so much), I feel that I need to post a confession here. I’m not sure that this entry will be approved by Madam to post publically, but I’m still going to write it and post it as private so that Madam receives this apology.
I got a little bossy with Madam last night. Bossy, bratty, cranky, crabby, it all amounts to the same thing; I argued with Madam even though I’ve agreed to obey her. I take my agreements to Madam very seriously… I’m just happier that way.
Madam is very easy on me. She’s gentle and loving in her domination over her slave girl. Even though Madam has grown to love exercising her power over her slave, the act of training her spouse to serve as her slave girl is not a powerful calling in Madam’s heart, not like submission and service is a powerful calling in my heart. I believe that the reason Madam has come to love training her slave girl/wife so much has more to do with how much Madam enjoys the end results of training. Madam has grown attached to how slave training has changed my personality. I’ve become happy and content. I’m more consistently and demonstratively loving and respectful, and I am no longer allowed to have dark, mopey moods that last for hours or days. I don’t tease so much anymore (Madam use to hate the way I’d tease her all the time.) I’m openly adoring. I pamper and dote on Madam at every opportunity, sometimes on demand, and sometimes on my own initiative. And best of all, Madam has absolute power to stop any disagreement or argument before it even has a chance to get started. Ever since Madam P and I signed our power exchange contract, the love and harmony in our home has been overwhelming and beautiful! All that love and harmony bubbling over in our home is, I believe, the source of Madam’s growing love of training her wife to serve as her slave girl.
Last night I got bratty with Madam over the stupidest thing. Madam brought home 3 sweet, delicious tangerines yesterday. I love tangerines when they’re really sweet and juicy, especially if the skins come off super easy. I asked Madam why she only bought 3 of them. Madam didn’t want to load up on expensive fruit only to have it go bad. I tried to assure Madam that, as much as I love super sweet easy to peel tangerines, there’s no way they’ll go bad in our house. Madam was skeptical. Well, I didn’t want to argue about it, I just wanted more tangerines. I insisted. I became bossy. Madam, realizing what was going on, told me point blank, “This conversation is over.” Madam gave me a direct order. There was a pause. In my mind I weighed the passion of my argument against the risk of disobeying Madam’s command. I pushed Madam a little further. I know I came dangerously close to some form of punishment, being put in the cage, handcuffed in the dark, a spanking, having my hair pulled harder than I like, something… but I had a feeling that Madam wasn’t quite to the point of harsh punishment yet. I had the feeling that Madam was weighing in her mind how harsh to be with me versus interfering with our pleasant evening activities. Madam came to me and started poking me in my butt where I’m bruised from last weekend’s caning; she was letting me know that she was dead serious, that I needed to stop arguing NOW! I pushed my argument just a little further. Madam gave me a look that told me that one more word was going to land me in the cage for the rest of the night, so I finally shut my mouth.
Fortunately, soon after this unfortunate exchange with Madam, it was Madam’s bedtime, which meant that it was time for me to perform my bedtime service ritual. I warmed Madam’s heat pack, turned down the bed, and slid the warmed up heat pack under the covers, I undressed and waited on my knees beside the bed for Madam to come in. Soon Madam entered the bedroom and allowed me to undress her as I do every night; I was then allowed to worship at Madam’s feet as I do each night, kissing and licking Madam’s feet in gratitude for being allowed so much time to work at perfecting my art. After that I was allowed to brush Madam’s beautiful red hair and scratch her back as I do each night. Then I tucked Madam into bed and crawled under the covers to cuddle her until she fell asleep.
I’m grateful that Madam chose not to punish me harshly for talking back and arguing with her last night. I’m grateful that she didn’t just let me get away with it either. I’m grateful that Madam is always so fair and just. I’m grateful that my bedtime ritual of pampering and spoiling Madam came so soon after my bad behavior; serving Madam helped me to remember my place in her household… and especially reminded me of Madam’s power over me and how lenient she is with me because she loves me so much.
I’m honored to serve Madam P. I feel bad that I turned bratty on her last night. I’m sorry that I put Madam into a position of having to balance punishing me against maintaining the harmony of her loving household. I want to openly apologize to Madam here and now, and I want to renew my promise to obey Madam’s commands to the best of my ability as I agreed to. I promise to try harder to be less argumentative. If in the future I feel so strongly about something that I’m asking Madam for that Madam disagrees with, I promise that I will make every effort to remember to assume a begging posture, as befits my place in Madam’s home. I will make every effort to make any passionate appeals from my assumed position of Madam’s property, begging for what I really, really want rather than hurling demands at Madam. Most of all, I promise to rededicate myself to honoring my fifth agreement in the contract I willfully entered with Madam: “I agree to inform Madam of wants and perceived needs, recognizing that She is the sole judge of what it is that I need or how these desires shall be satisfied.”
Missy
Madam P and I had the most splendid weekend ever. On Friday Madam took me to a play party at a private dungeon. The party was low key and laid back. There weren’t a lot of people there (maybe 15 or 20), and the atmosphere was intimate and familiar (even though we didn’t know most of the people.) Lucky for us, our 2 favorite people from the local BDSM scene were also there, so we enjoyed socializing with them for quite a while.
Madam and I settled into a comfy sofa for a little bit, watching the various forms of torture and beatings happening all around us. After a while we got up and started to explore different areas and pieces of equipment around the dungeon. A sex swing suspended from the ceiling by 4 heavy chains caught Madam’s attention. She had me lay down on the swing, hooking my ankles into the velvet loops attached to 2 of the chains. I was splayed out, my legs straight up in the air and spread, but still fully dressed (if you call a skimpy cami that barely covered my big boobs and a short crotch-length denim skirt fully dressed.) Madam started out nibbling on, and then biting, my inner thighs. Without getting too graphic (out of respect for Madam), after Madam removed my top, she bit and nibbled me to several screaming (and I mean SCREAMING) orgasms! (Everyone present is now keenly aware that I’m a screamer.)
After Madam P was done making me scream my head off, she had me running around the house waiting on her with just my 5 inch heels and ultra-short skirt on. I fetched her water and a cookie or 2. We hid out in a cage for about half an hour, Madam laid out and me on all fours, passionately making out. It seemed like Madam was winding down (it was getting late), so I excused myself to use the bathroom expecting that we would head home after I was done. When I came back a few minutes later, Madam informed me that she’d been talking with a dominant man, PH, who we had watched working his canes on a pretty lady earlier in the evening; Madam said she had asked PH if he would be willing to cane her slave girl and he said yes.
I’d mentioned to Madam earlier in the evening as we’d watched PH working that I was curious about the canes since I’ve never experienced them before. And even though I was nervous and a little scared, I was very eager to obey Madam P’s directions and to make Madam proud by taking the caning without complaint or resistance.
I stripped naked and laid myself out on the table where PH had his tools set up. He started out easy, working my butt, explaining his technique to Madam, showing her different ways to stroke the cane for different effects. PH worked down to the backs of my thighs and my calves. He worked his way back up to my butt and my back below the shoulder blades. All the while he kept striking me a little harder and a little harder. I remember that it hurt like hell at first. I tried to control my breathing to stay calm and redirect the pain, but it was no use; PH was in complete control of my breathing… I gasped for air with each stroke. Little moans and whimpers started to escape from somewhere deep inside. At some point, I felt a calm wash over me. I relaxed into the rhythm of PH’s blows, as though my body realized that tension was only making it hurt worse. Every now and then, PH would land a quick hard SMACK across my butt causing me to cry out and bounce a few inches off the table; all the people standing around watching him work on me loved seeing me bounce off the table with a loud YELP (according to Madam P.) At one point, PH started poking my butt and thighs (where he’d been hitting me) with his finger which caused me to laugh and giggle; the spectators enjoyed that too apparently.
Madam says that when it was over I had this dreamy look on my face, like I was high or drunk. I felt good, refreshed, blissed out. The pain didn’t really set in until the next day. Over all, I’d say that I loved the experience. I loved the endorphin rush. (I can see how people get hooked on skillful beatings.) I love the bruises. I loved being on the table, letting out yelps and screams… I know how much Madam loves to hear me scream, and I love screaming for her. And I love that Madam has discovered that tender bruised muscles can be useful in controlling bratty behavior.
Here it is Monday, and I have the most beautiful black bruises all over my ass. Madam has found that because my butt is still so tender to the touch, all she has to do is to poke me in the butt with her finger to make me yelp and squirm if I’m acting bratty with her. (I love it when Madam P gets creative and spontaneous about correcting bad behavior.)
Madam says she’s taking me to another play party this coming Friday. I can hardly wait to see what surprises she has in store this time.
(Hey, remind me to tell you about how I spent most of Saturday night soundly sleeping on the floor at Madam’s feet in the living room.)
Madam P has energized me today. I woke up tired and worn down feeling. Madam informed me first thing that she is taking me to a play party tonight and that she has plans for me. At first I felt a little apprehensive and leery. I thought for a moment that all I want to do tonight is to hide out, rest, recharge my battery. That feeling did not last.
Madam and I lead busy lives. We get precious few opportunities to get out into the kink community, to parties and events. Madam P and I don’t really get many opportunities for overt play and focused slave training. I long to be Madam’s good girl. When Madam P takes me in hand and directs me in a way that allows me to feel just how in control she is of my life, the feeling that flows through my body is like electric heroin, like spiritual crack cocaine. The feeling runs through my body, igniting a wild fire within every single cell of my body. I want that feeling. I want more. I crave it. When I don’t experience that feeling for long periods of time, I get agitated and cranky. I start looking around for things to get into that might act as a substitute for that “submissive high” that I crave so much.
I don’t know where this craving comes from in me. All I do know is that it has always been there. I’ve been chasing that submissive buzz all my life. I’ve gotten into trouble in pursuit of that buzz. I’ve turned my will over to people who have done me harm, and I’ve forced my submission onto people who never wanted it. For the first time in my life I’ve met a Madam who not only wants my submission, but she’s also learning how to play my submissive heart the way a virtuoso plays a fine Stradivarius violin. Madam is learning how to take my submission and use it to create a beautiful harmony of love and devotion within the never ending honeymoon that is our marriage.
So when Madam announced that she is taking me to a play party tonight (the first one we’ve been to in many, many months), I slowly started to glow from the inside out. I started feeling stronger, healthier, more joyful. The anticipation of what Madam P has in mind for tonight has begun that soft, sweet song humming deep within my submissive heart. The longing begins, to surrender my body and soul, to offer up every ounce of who and what I am to Madam P for her sole amusement and pleasure.
There’s something about being Madam’s good girl, about doing what I’m told, pushing through embarrassment and humiliation at having my submission so exposed in front of others, that intensifies the high. It’s one thing to obey without arguing when Madam tells me to get into my cage and lock myself in within the privacy of our own home. It’s a completely different level of surrender when Madam orders me to sit at her feet, or cuffs and gags me, or whatever she has in mind, in plain sight for others to comment on and observe. The second agreement of the power exchange contract that I signed with Madam P states that “I agree to strive to overcome feelings of guilt or shame, and all inhibitions that interfere with my capability to serve Madam and limit my growth as Her submissive.” Very rarely does Madam put me into a position in which I get to test and demonstrate this particular agreement. I very much look forward to the opportunity tonight to demonstrate for Madam P the depth of my submission to her within the context of releasing attachment to modesty by overcoming shame and inhibitions and obeying her every command even though others may be watching.
I’m prepared to do anything for Madam. I AM Madam’s submission-buzz-whore!
Missy
I’ve most definitely learned my lesson about the perception that I might be publically criticizing Madam P in this blog; a couple of weeks ago I very narrowly escaped a punishment that I’ve been assured I would not forget anytime soon. (I hope I never have to find out what that punishment was.) And so, at my humble request, Madam now reviews and approves all blog entries before they go public. If you are reading this, it means that Madam has approved it.
I’ve just recently been learning about the concept of INTERNAL ENSLAVEMENT. I’m not going to pretend to write with authority on the subject since I’ve only just begun learning about it myself. I only bring it up because I find it extremely intriguing.
So far what I’ve learned about internal enslavement is that it’s an idea of training an erotic slave in such a way that she internalizes the experience of being owned. In other words, the slave girl is trained to reflexively set aside her own will and replace it with the will of her Owner, whether her Owner is present or not. Before learning about the concept of internal enslavement, I’d say that this kind of all day every day surrendering of my will to Madam P has been my heart-felt desire; I just didn’t have a vocabulary or philosophy upon which to build. I’m excited to discover that there is a whole philosophical foundation to learn from and build upon.
Madam P and I are madly in love; I would marry her again and again everyday for the rest of my life if I could. (I kind of like the feel of that; maybe I’ll create a sweet little ritual to perform once a day in which I have a small alter I go to where I can declare my love, devotion, fidelity, adoration and surrender to Madam P.) Because she loves me so much, Madam goes easy on me when it comes to training. I work hard at my job, plus I have a beloved art that I work on perfecting every day, and Madam takes very seriously her responsibility to encourage me to grow and evolve as her beloved property/pet; Madam always provides ample time for my personal development. At the same time, Madam also has expectations and daily rituals to remind me every day that I am a most loved possession. From what I’ve learned so far, Madam’s gentle, loving training methods are a softer, lighter form of the methods generally associated with internal enslavement.
I’ve read about extreme training methods to encourage internal enslavement, things like food control (what may or may not be eaten, when to eat, enforced fasting, calorie control), enforced bedtimes and waking times, sleep deprivation, being awakened in the night to perform sexual services, sleeping in a cage, sleeping in handcuffs, etc. Madam has enlisted many of these methods at various times in training her slave girl, but with a lot of flexibility and tender loving care. (I am expected to ask for permission before drinking alcohol, for instance, though I’m not sure if there are consequences if I don’t ask before drinking.)
I’m not sure where I’m going with this. I suppose I’m simply organizing my thoughts on this new idea (new to me) of internal enslavement. I had an interesting brush with the experience of it yesterday. We had a meeting at work for which donuts were brought in. After the meeting there were plenty of donuts still in the kitchen. I couldn’t get those donuts off my mind. At some point I got up from my desk headed to the kitchen intent on eating at least part of one of those donuts. About half way to the kitchen the thought crossed my mind, “I should contact Madam P and ask for permission; she might not want me eating donuts today.” I turned around and headed back towards my office to send Madam a text message; then I stopped and thought, “Sometimes it’s easier to apologize for doing wrong than it is to get permission.” I went to the kitchen and ate half a donut… and it made me sick to my stomach for the rest of the afternoon.
That little power struggle that took place within my mind on the way to the kitchen is the beginning of internal enslavement taking hold. I was conflicted about whether to follow my will or look to Madam P for guidance. I feel a little bad that I chose my own will in that case over Madam’s. (I knew there would be no consequences from Madam for following my own will; though it turned out that my stomach created consequences of its own.)
I long for the day that I wouldn’t dream of casting aside Madam’s will in order to follow my own desire. I’m coming to consider internal enslavement my own personal goal. Whether Madam chooses to adopt training methods to encourage this level of surrender or not, I feel certain that she will appreciate knowing that, as her property, I ALWAYS act accordingly. Is it possible to get there on my own? Perhaps time will tell.
Missy
Madam P was so sweet to me this weekend. Sometimes I don’t know what comes over me, but I have a tendency to be very jealous of anyone touching Madam P in a familiar way, past, present or future. And, well, you know, Madam has lived a long, full life; she’s had lovers before me. And intellectually I understand the beauty of that. I get it that Madam is the woman I know and love because of all those experiences of her past, both good and bad. In my more lucid moments, I can feel appreciation and gratitude towards all those people who have been intimate with Madam before she met me; they’ve helped Madam to grow and evolve each in their own way, and they helped keep her from feeling lonely and unloved while she waited for me to find her. But if I allow myself to think about it too much, I’m just so quick to get moody, jealous and withdrawn over these thoughts.
Why I respond this way to thoughts of Madam P’s sexual history seems irrelevant. What is relevant is why at times I feel drawn to think these thoughts that I find so unsettling (much like a moth flying into a lit candle), and what can I do to stop thinking these thoughts so that I can avoid turning moody.
Madam has decided that I don’t need to deal with this issue by myself anymore. This past Saturday I allowed myself to get into that old crazy thought cycle, dwelling on Madam’s past sexual adventures. I could see myself doing it inside my head, and yet I felt powerless to stop it. (Maybe it’s the masochist in me drawn to emotional pain.) Madam does not like to be around me when I get like this. So rather than getting angry with me this weekend, Madam took me in hand and helped me to stop thinking unsettling thoughts.
Early in the day, Madam had to take a trip to the grocery store; before she left, she put me in my cage and locked the door. I stayed in there for about an hour, waiting for Madam to get back from the grocery store. (Madam doesn’t know that I was just waiting for her to leave so that I could guzzle a beer and numb out a little bit; cage time was much healthier for me, body and soul… thank you Madam P!) For a while after Madam let me out, I was my sweet, submissive, doting self with Madam. But I wasn’t done yet.
Later in the evening, residual thoughts came up again, turning me dark and moody one more time. Madam didn’t wait long before she took action.
As I was preoccupied, in my own little moody world, working on my art, Madam came into the room and told me to put everything down and come to her. I was feeling cranky. I was in no mood to play, but I’ve surrendered my will to Madam and I’ve pledged to obey her commands, so I did what was demanded of me. Madam had me place my hands behind my back so that she could snap on a pair of handcuffs. I was then led to the bedroom, where Madam had me kneel beside the bed. She removed her underwear, stuffing them into my mouth, and told me to place my head on the bed face down. She then turned off the lights, closed the door, and left me to stew in the fullness of my submission, restrained, gagged, and in the dark.
A little while later Madam came back into the bedroom, removed her panties from my mouth, gave me a mild spanking, pulled my hair back, and let me know that the moody attitude had to stop immediately. Madam had me say out loud that I’m her slave, that she owns me outright, and that I will obey as I’ve agreed to do. She had me kiss and lick her feet for a little while, grabbed a handful of my hair and asked if I was ready to behave if she uncuffed me. I agreed to be Madam’s good girl for the rest of the evening. Madam uncuffed me, gave me a long, warm hug and let me know that she loves me with all her heart.
Madam P is no bully. She isn’t the kind of Madam that enjoys doling out a lot of physical pain to her slave just for the fun of it. Madam P is always fair, wise and just. Her method of getting my attention and interrupting my crazy thoughts proved to be extremely effective. For the rest of the weekend, I was Madam’s good girl, sweet, submissive and very affectionate towards Madam.
I like myself so much better when I’m sweet and submissive, showering my love and affection all over Madam. I’m so grateful to Madam P for taking me in hand and helping to bring my thoughts back into alignment with who I most want to be: Madam’s sweet slave girl. On Sunday, at an “erotic humiliation” workshop that Madam took me to, the presenter said to me after I shared about how Madam P trains me, “You’re a very lucky girl.” Yes I am; he has no idea!
Missy
Slave Missy