Q&A, Round Two

From the ever awesome Misty,
"1. Consistency, how important is it?
2. Tell us a struggle you had in the beginning and how you overcame it. Or have you overcome it?
3. Have you ever read back through you blog and came across a post that made you think, "Boy, did I have it wrong!"?
4. Do you keep a journal? Has he ever read it? (I'm asking because I do, and we've talked about him reading it, but he's obviously not going to push me on it (which would sure make things easier on me! But I get why he won't.) and I don't know if I should let him. Okay, I probably should but I don't know if I want to.)"

Consistency...It's importance cannot be underestimated.
I have found that us subs can be rather inconsistent. We tend to ride up and down on waves that, while sometimes predictable, are certainly not the epitome of consistency.
Consistency in a sub, however, holds value--it's a lot of work for a dominant to keep up with a roller-coaster.
A dominant's consistency provides stability in an otherwise unstable world filled with occasionally unstable creatures. Consistency creates a sense of safety, and instills the knowledge that he means what he says. It is...Comforting.

A struggle from the beginning, and how I have or have not overcome it...He didn't trust me. Justifiably so, but it sucked. I didn't trust me either--the whole whore thing can be a bit tricky when one is lacking in self control and has been asked to let the monster out. The only fix for us was me being an open book, and him to make the calls for me about what was okay and what was not.
I took the easy way out on that one, didn't I?

Oh gods, yes! I have looked back at a few old posts and absolutely cringed. Witnessing one's own evolution is rarely pleasant...

This blog is the closest I have ever come to writing a journal. If I had a paper version, he would probably read it rarely, whenever the mood struck. If he felt like it. In random moments when I least expected it.

Thanks for the questions, Misty!

There is still plenty of time left in the month, so please keep the inspirations coming! I have one more question left, then I'll be all out of ideas, and lord knows I need them all (yes, ALL your ideas. I want them all to hoard and play with and take forever to get around too!)

First Question of March

Courtesy of the lovely JZ,
 "They're making a movie of your life.
(farce, naturally!)
Who do you want to play you, and who do you want to play Alpha?
And describe your happy ending."

Ooh, I don't know why these are so difficult for me. It's always the fun simple stuff that trips me up.

I don't know who I want to play me. Maybe Tina Fey because she has humor and plays the klutz well, which would be a requirement for anyone wanting to say anything about my life because ya, klutz! I definitely want wolverine to play him (nope, not Hugh Jackman, I want straight up wolverine with the retractable claws).

My happy ending...Corny as all hell--I'd like to wrap up the story with dying together on a really nice mountain. With a pillow (comfort is important in all things you know). I certainly don't want to be left behind, and going first is the easy way out, so it seems like a nice compromise.

Totally cheery, right?

It's Been a While Now...

March 8th, 2010, I sat down at the computer and started this blog.

A lot has happened since then. Over the course of the last year, I seriously considered leaving this place behind--perhaps it no longer fit me like it once did. The thing is, blogs are beautiful because they fit us individually. No matter where we find ourselves, or which fork in the road we choose to take.

We lived M/s for a very long time. We never really stopped being it, but somewhere along the way, we did stop living it. We have decided to begin making our way back into the deep end. To once again live what we are.
I struggle desperately with the dichotomy of managing a shitload of people and responsibilities, and being a slave. This struggle is not exactly made easier by the fact that we work together and the company was restructured in order to avoid any semblance of him telling me what to do. Ironic, no?

A lot has happened since I started this blog. I found a home in Blogland. A place where I fit. Not being here has not been good for me. Being consumed by work, I find that I often have little to say that I can actually share here, and even less time to say anything at all.

I miss you. All of you. The awesome regulars that, for some strange reason, have never deserted me, the quiet ones who peek their heads out occasionally to say hello, even the annoying and odd anonymouses who are so very sure I'm doing it wrong (they may be right, but I don't mind).

So thank you. Thank you for being you, and taking the time to read me.

I Whispered

I have set a few ramblings to auto-post this week, so know that I have not suddenly started ignoring comments, I'll just likely have to catch with everyone on the weekend.

I did something that I never voluntarily of my own accord done--I talked. And I begged.

I whispered my dreams and my fears, my musings and the feeling of him. I scratched and bit and begged him to hurt me. I whispered about the puzzle piece we always held so dear, perhaps now the missing link to that click we are striving for outside of us. I whispered about how we are better living M/s and why I run, about how I can feel the beast and sense his need.

He used me. Chewed me up and spit me out. Not so silent in the night we met in our passionate rage, a physical fight I lost with pained grace.

And when I could go no further, he pushed me more.
I whispered my fears and desires, for the first time ever offering verbal acknowledgement of the flickering in his eyes, the starving beast nipping at the edges of control.

I begged for pain and it came. I begged for it to stop and it did not.
Say what you will, masochist or not, pain makes everything else go away. For the first night in a very long time, I did not dream of work. In fact, I did not dream at all.

I Need...And I run

Challenge or struggle?

I was thinking again, (terrible thing really--consumes entirely too much of my life) about us, about the long slow shift to where we are now.
There is an ache in my being for who we used to be together.

I can't get into subspace anymore. This is...Particularly unsettling to me. It is that one place, where it doesn't matter where your body is, or what your mind thought it knew seconds before, or how much you felt like you left a piece of your soul at home.
Subspace has been our place. His playground and I'm on the ride. It has been a very long time...

He has no interest in someone without challenge. I look at that long slow shift to where we are now, and I wonder at what point the challenge became a struggle.
I miss the feeling in his eyes when his control over me was so complete that it provided him with the ability to control more circumstances outside of us. I see it there flickering in the depths, the beast slightly starved and sitting to the side.

I crave it to the depths of my being. The feeling of his passionate fury. That feeling of total surrender. The carefully crafted and delicately nursed ingrained responses to the touch if his control in everything I did. It took so very long to get there and so, comparably, little time to leave it.

The fear of drowning without breath under water, the knives, the mind bending touch of pain, the humiliation...Dear sweet goddess, the humiliation...The feeling that the choice even to breathe, the most basic and automatic of functions, is not mine to make...

I need. I need to go home. I need our place, our space where nothing and no one exists. And I run from it. Every step of the way I run in the other direction. He is without energy to run in pursuit of that which was long ago captured, of that which is already owned.

I run. I run because I know that, at this point in the road, the trip back is inevitably unpleasant. That the trip to subspace alone will be more brutal than I desire to experience. And I'm fucking terrified.
I need. There is an ache in my soul for the mountain I always called home. There is an ache in my being for what we have been together, for the master and slave in unforgotten days. Fuck that. I lie--they are not unforgotten days, they are years. A decade. Over a decade. I have forgotten exactly how long.

For a while, I forgot who I was. The world swallowed me and consumed me. I don't know how to be this me and who I am, how to make both play nicely as one. I am afraid that the existence of one severely compromises the existence of the other.
Now, though still so consumed that it permeates every waking and sleeping moment, I accept what he has always suggested to be true--that, for me, there is true happiness only in being owned.

Question and Answer Month?

So...March is Q&A month here in Blogland, and given that I have been notably lacking in good (or even decent) blog fodder for oh, about a year, I could really use some inspiration here.

I would really like to get back into blogging and away from the monthly random post hole that I seem to have fallen into.

You can ask here, or by email, anonymously or not, but I needs something. Help a girl out with some questions?