The End

Things are over between V. and I. Ended for many reasons, for my different aspects. I'm letting this blog stand testiment to something that was very beautiful and as tribute to the man who gave me my life back. You will always be important to me V.

Shatter

This has not been an easy week. I'm struggling in writing this, and I'm certain I will continue to struggle painfully through it. I want to write these feelings off as the typical induced misery I always feel after spending time with him. Heightened by the fact I became terribly ill the second I left his side. Tonsillitis, Strep. I take my punishment- and my sins are duly noted. I have literally crawled through the week. I know it is all of that- but its more. I've realized something:
I hate myself.
I don't like this person I've become. This secretive deceitful person. This girl who is always watching the clock, keeping hours, counting days. That my unhappiness washes over me in waves that are pulling me under, drowning me. It is harder to hide my want from the world. My friends are concerned for me. I'm afraid it's affecting my daughter. I'm afraid that I am so lost in myself I'll miss doing what I need to do, when I need to do it. I'm afraid I'll do nothing and I'll live in this place forever. This place that is so safe, this place that is so totally not me. I feel as if I am living someone else's life. I realize people would be happy for my world, my life- so why can I sweep my eyes across everything I own, and everything I am- and decide that I could pack it all into one suitcase and never feel as if I left anything behind?
I should be somewhere, doing something. In moments like this I want to take my nursing to other countries. Treat disaster and devastation. Lose myself in the pain of the people. Pour myself into work and be faced with how really my pain is so small, so insignificant.
I want an easy answer. An easy way out. I don't want to hurt people anymore. I want to stop being everything to everyone and start believing I can be something to me. I want to give second chances that I don't want to give. I want small spaces filled with books and quirky artwork.
I want his hands on me without wondering if they'll ever be on me again, or if I'll succeed in pushing him away. I want to be my own person, with my own life- so when I give to him I'm giving him the real deal- the rawness of me, not just the foundation.

I want the defining moment, the instant when I know it's okay to move forward. I want to know it will all fall together. That I won't shatter worlds.

Plan B

I am enamored by smoothed stone
marble polished to gleam
rocks washed of roughness
I want to take my edges and do that
dull them so they won't cut the unwary
rub them until they are safe
perhaps chase you away with the loss of my danger
I tell you I have skin like Arctic sea
as I take you burning inside of me
hazy, resilient
I see you as the waves of heat
that rise above the pavement
you quiet me thaw away at my doubts
until I spill puddles under you
in the reflective waves of silence you decipher and decode
this may read to you
as another one of my attempts to prove my lethality
but it's not
I only want to remind you
I am still sharp
that pieces of me still lay untested
that you should step lightly
have escape routes
best laid plans
higher ground

Open Letter from V

There are various reasons why I am posting this. The first is purely selfish. I love his words and want to look at them. Have them looked at. Let the world know that I can do something right- I mean he picked me, didn't he? The second reason is more deeply rooted. My best friend in the world loves me. Everything about me. She never judges me-she accepts me for who and what I am. But she doesn't understand this. Me. My need and want for this type of relationship. Oh she understand the erotic turn on of an ass slap, the dirty talk . She can even grasp the fact that I adore having pain inflicted upon me. But belonging to someone, giving yourself to them- because you want to- isn't easy for her to understand. So I do this for her, so she can read this blog post and understand the dynamics of us. Begin to understand what this is to us.. how it is more than just rope and ass beating. It is love, trust, devotion. That I am strong, I will always be strong- and feeling this way doesn't make me weak. The third reason- is for other slaves, submissives perhaps broken in their relationships can read this and feel hope, and the ones strong in their'- can feel kindred. This is the most beautiful thing I have ever had written to me. I hope you think so too. Posted with his permission, of course.

Mon Sep 01 19:35:23
Mine,
And so it starts, again. Our relationship has turned a corner, become better defined. you now know that, you pointed it out when you said about “just D/s” that we aren’t that any more. And we are not just that any more. We haven’t been just D/s for a while and I was pleased to see that you recognize that and articulated that. But what are we then? Are we M/s, are we something else? I hesitate to put a label on it because labels define in a confining sort of way. They put up sign post, guidelines, barriers about what should and shouldn’t be. I think it’s best to say that we are exactly what we are at any given moment but always, passionately in love, one defined by the other and yes Master and submissive. What we are always transcends the limits of definition. We are beyond the simple accouterments of bdsm and we have attained a different plain, a higher one, a darker one, one that suits us well for now. What I have seen and like most about what we are is that we have changed, grown, pushed each other and with each day our passion, our love for each other has deepened and become more intense.


As I told you today, you are simply mine. Doesn’t matter where you are, what you are doing, what you are thinking or feeling, you are mine, all of you, every tiny piece of you, every fiber of your being. your body, your mind, your heart, your soul belong to me, I have committed to always cherish and take care of all that you are and I will. I will do so lovingly and passionately and harshly if I need to. I will do so with you under me and by my side each and every day, that is where you belong and that is where we are headed.

I said to you that I would take you away in heart beat and bring you to me and I would and will if need arises. For now I will wait, you know what I want in that regard, I have told you I want you coming to me in a certain way and I know you will follow through. If I can’t be patient any longer or if I see you too close to withering and dying I will take action.

I have brought you along at a pace that I thought was appropriate for you with your experience and background. I know I have been right in the way I have done it and I am now reaping the rewards of that. I have only pride in telling you that you are the most fabulous, deeply feeling and passionate woman I have every known. It is all in you I can see it and feel it. you are also strong and that strength is also what makes you beautiful and makes me know that when you give you give from that strength and your gift always has depth and meaning. But make no mistake, you are my woman, my passion, my property, you belong to only me.


Even though our relationship has changed and become more the fundamentals, the basis of what we are are still there and that foundation is what I will build on and expand. I am building a universe mine an entire universe for us. I will still bring you along at my pace, the pace I think works best for you and will keep you learning and growing and being everything you can be for me. I will want more from you, more sometimes then you may think you can give. I’ll know that you can though and I will expect you to give or do as I ask and to trust that it is something you can accomplish because I have asked you to. I will not let you fall, I will never let you fall in any way.

I know that some of this goes against the grain of what some might call “traditional” D/s or M/s, but that’s why I shun labels for what we are. But also know that I will have moments when I will want something simply because I want it with no rhyme or reason to it and you will have to bite your tongue and do it. I have always given you leeway to speak your mind and I won’t change that, I don’t want to change that about you. you’ll know, or rather you already do know, when it’s time for you to not say anything else and do as I want.


I have given you freedom in me and through me, I have made you feel, let you feel the world around you, I have let you fly and yet kept you tethered and safe, I have shown you what love, intensity and passion truly are. And you mine, you have given me your love, your passion and at the same time you have given my passion back to me, my darkness back to me but you have given them back to me in much deeper, more intense way then I have every had them before.


"No, my love I have no fear at all that you will fail me. I will ask you for things, beautiful things, difficult things, terrible things, in my time, in my way."


“She dreams she can touch the universe and its blackness, that she can fall into the stars and become nothing.”


Simply, we are perfect for each other.

Book slut

I'm needy. Greedy. The closer I get to seeing Him the more salacious I become. He knows it too. I mean I have to ask him every time I cum, so of course he knows. He tells me I have a needy cunt. And that he knows how to take care of it. That makes time move even s l o w e r . And I bought a new book yesterday to complete my torture. It's pure S/M trash. The Master calls the slave names, and it makes me hot. He fucks her- it makes me hot. He beats her for his enjoyment, it makes me hot. People watch, it makes me hot. He loans her out- well, you get the picture. The book in itself though, isn't that superb. I discussed with Master last night- how obvious it is, when reading BDSM literature- what writers are really living the lifestyle, and which ones are writing about a fantasy they have used to fuel their masturbation for the last so many years. All the typical power exchange activities are there. Wrote out in fuckably wonderful scenarios. But the reality piece of it is missing. The emotions of being in that moment fall flat. It is how you would write about something you have heard about but never really was part of, or fully understood it.

Good thing I'm easy like that :)

After I see him this weekend I'll spread out my own little piece of literary genius for the world. Can abuse at the hands of a talented man ever truly be portrayed poorly? If words fail me- I can always use pictures. :)

3 days. Yeah, I'm getting giddy. It will certainly take one hell of a beating to get my head on straight. Hope he's up to it.. *G

Loved

I am constantly asking him to define us. With words, with actions. Perhaps I need the reassurance that this is for real. I'm really starting to open up with him. I had a patient unexpectedly code on me last night after I had just admitted him to my floor. We worked on him for 40 minutes and we just couldn't save him. I deal with death all the time- but the closeness of the family, the helplessness I felt with this one- really had an impact on me. Usually I would of sucked it up and went on- I did, even. But I called him when I got out of work. I just talked and he let me. It felt good, to talk and not just bottle it up. I of course denied the impact on me- true to nature. But he knew, he knows. And he allows me to act as emotionless and tough as I need to. Because he knows- later this week when I'm in his arms again he'll make me feel. I can't wait to lose myself in him. We have morphed into something I never thought possible. It is more than the sweet pain he gives me. It is more than fucking. It is the complete dynamic of what we are. It is being his, because of these things, despite these things. I never knew losing myself in someone could be so freeing. I am better because of him, and I'll be better still. I am growing in my slavery. He is the pinnacle of my world.

History

When I was growing up- in those pivotal years I only had two types of relationships with boys. Either I was being abused, or I was abusing. Not physically, mind you. But emotionally. Psychologically. Either you were the weak, or you were the strong. That's it. No inbetweens. My first real boyfriend was of the weak. A giant teddy bear of a man- he loved me completely. I started seeing him when I was in 8th grade- and he was a Senior. He was popular, everyone loved him. His friends were the crazy party guys that all the girls lusted over. He was the rock of the group. Every one's friend. Dependable. In a small town where everyone knew everyone it wasn't odd for the older guys to date younger girls. There were only so many of us. We were together for almost three years. He easily wanted us to last forever. I abused him. I let his drunk asshole friends feel me up at every opportunity. I cheated on him with boys from the neighboring towns. But I depended on him. His quiet strength. When everything went down. When all the shit hit the fan- he stuck by my side. I loathed myself, my existence- and he showered me in love and acceptance. To this day I still adore him. He recently got married to a woman with a young boy. I hope she is good to him. Better to him than I could of ever been. After I left him, I jumped from one asshole to the next. I didn't deserve nice boys. I didn't want them. I wanted assholes. Ones that would make me wait for them. One's that would pick me up three hours late smelling of perfume. And I wanted them rough. I'd provoke them. Push them. Ply them with drink and then push buttons. I wanted it physical. I wanted to be tossed against the wall and fucked. I wanted those bruises left up and down my arms. Bruises my mother once quietly noticed, and said matter-of-factly: "you choose your own path, your own destiny. don't let anyone choose it for you" I heard her. She had lived real nightmares- while I was a young careless girl playing games with fate. I had steadily been dating a boy my senior year from the city next door. He was a few years older than me, with the beginnings of a serious drinking problem. He was controlling. His mother died unexpectedly while we were dating- and I was going to be the one to save him. He pulled me out of a party the night of my graduation. He drove us back to his house at speeds so fast I thought he was going to kill us. When I started screaming and crying- He would just veer the car towards a ditch, or oncoming traffic..I was scared- but my adrenaline was also pumped. I was pissed. I was turned on. Provoking this type of anger made me powerful. When we got back to his place- he gave me my first real down and out beating. He told me I was a whore. I deserved it. And I did. After all, I had been cheating on him. It was what I did. Pushing, provoking men to action. Using my body to get what I wanted. When he finished, he lashed me to the bed- and passed out. It was with the sun- that I was able to wriggle free, and sneak to the phone to call my girlfriend to come get me. I had hardly dialed the number when she picked up- I said her name, and then the phone went dead. He had yanked it out of the wall. He hit me with the phone and then jumped on top of me. My friend of all friends- knew something was up- and was at the house pounding on the door- threatening to call the cops in less than 10 minutes. He let me up and she pulled me out of there. He went into rehab- and would later send me love letters when I joined the Navy. Begging for me back. But I was done with him. I'd tasted his rage. I had got what I wanted from him. I knew the secrets of rage. How to call upon them. How to weather out the storm.

So this is what I'm made of. The need to push and hurt those that invest in me. The need to be hurt- so I know that I'm loved. It is hard being away from him right now. He's not here to hurt me- so it makes me want to hurt him. Lash out and deliver pain. Make him feel me to his bones. The more wonderful and fabulous he thinks I am- the more I want to prove to him that he is wrong. Can't he see how fucked up and broken I am? How sick I must be- because I would give anything right now to have his hands on me. In a world of safe sane and consensual- I am once again a square peg. The only problem being he has broke me. It has to be him. Must be him. He has ruined me for anyone else. He has stripped away casual indiscretions. Now I don't even have that.

So I am left now. Hurting, just not like I want. Physical pain is so much easier to handle.

Safe words

Let me start by saying- I don't condone not having safe words. It is stupid and reckless. Now that I've stated that for the record: I don't have safe words with him. Not one. And now, I'm going to step over the ledge by saying: I don't need them. And if I had one, I wouldn't use it anyways. Critics may think this is dangerous, or even stupid- but I know many of the girls out there probably feel the same way I do. I think when you form that complete trust, when you are able to fully let go and put your entire well being into the hands of another- it is a special thing. He knows me and my body as well as I do. I have never told him to stop. I have never even been close to telling him to stop. A safe word wouldn't change that. I am driven to want, no- need to take everything he tosses at me. I want to please him. He has never let me down. Sometimes- he talks me through my pain, when he sees I'm hurting- and wants more. Sometimes- he may even stop before I truly want him to- but he has never abused the power I have given to him. He never will. How can I be so sure? Because I have never been as sure about anything in my life as I am him. And yeah, I'd risk my life on that.

Veils

"I caught a glimpse of you behind a wall. I broke the wall down but it was only your perfume. I saw you hidden behind a veil. I tore the veil and found a you that was a familiar to me and a stranger to you. I'll sew the veil and keep us behind it until I make you familiar to yourself".

V. wrote this for me tonight. I'm in a horrible place right now. Phyiscally and emotionally I am just drained. I know some of it is life changes- finishing school, starting a new job, the growing intensity between Him and I.

And the rest of it- are the changes I can't make. The reasons that I am frozen in time, unable to move forward, make those steps I need to make- to being everything to him. Monday was one week since I've seen him- and it feels like it has been months. My bruises are faded..and I have to try so very hard..to remember the feel of his slap.

I am trying to pull away, make distance. He allows me this to an extent. Sometimes I wish he would just force me to do what needs to be done. But I know he won't have me that way. He will wait, but I must come to him. I don't know how, or when I will.

Just that I must. I'm running out of options.

I'm slowly wilting. Dying here.

Risk

“Our lives improve only when we take chances - and the first and most difficult risk we can take is to be honest with ourselves.” -Walter Anderson

Not real good at the risk taking. Is it possible to like the safe, yet want it unpredictable? If so- that describes me. But I think there is so much truth in this quote. I've really had to do some inner reflecting on myself of late..and can't say I like what I'm seeing. I refuse to be defeated though. Slowly, surely.. I'm making leeway.

He does good work, that V.