Not Very Good at This

I know that I still have comments to get to, but for now, I'm going to let the tired eat me and start clearing out the drafts folder, so... I haven't forgotten you though! 

I'm not particularly fond of things that I'm no good at.

Turns out, I'm not particularly good at this slave thing. Do you know how terrible it can be to have an overwhelming compulsion and be particularly bad at it?

Seriously. It's like no matter how much I don't want it, or how badly I decide I hate it in the moment, or how often I realize I'm terribly bad at it, I still cannot escape the need to be owned.

He likes to point out that without an owner I am like a ship with no harbor, and it's true. It is still odd to me though, to have this inner compulsion, this overwhelming need, this unavoidable craving...Yet...Continue to so often struggle with the basic realities. And really, we are not new to this anymore...So wtf?

I love this quote...

To See One As Being Better Than the Other

I think that I finally managed to perfect the nonsensical title.

Here's where I'm going--the concept of M/s being "better" than D/s, or D/s being "better" than M/s.

Did I miss the memo where this was all one big competition? Seriously, people seem to think you're either too far in, or not far enough. Who appoints these ttwd police?

Personally, I prefer the deep end. All in and one step from drowning. It's who I am and how I'm made. I want to go as far as I possibly can, hand over everything that I am until there's nothing left and the nothing itself completes me. I need to be consumed in the fires of his needs, no way out, only further in. I'm an experience junky, a slut for everything I enjoy, a whore to everything that makes me feel truly alive. It's who I am and how I have always been. Right or wrong, that is the window through which I view ttwd.

We have been together for a long time. Sixteen years. About half of those years were before D/s. I don't need negotiation, I don't need my own terms, I don't need to consent anymore. Because I am, we are, it is the way it is.
Physically, yes, I might capable of walking away. But it was truth when he said that I'd always be his. Even if we parted ways, there would be part of me that would always belong to him, no matter what. There is nothing he would do that could change that. No matter what choices he makes, I will never walk away. I feel that I long ago ceased being able to do so.

That's me. My life. Who we are. And I'm okay with it.

There's not a damn thing wrong with playing in the shallows. In fact, sometimes that is the healthiest place for one to be.

I think that sometimes our own insecurities provoke us to pass judgement on those who's relationships differ from our own--the submissive criticizes the slave because they wonder if their own  submission is enough, the slave criticizes the sub because she wonders if her personal submission is too much.

I have very strong opinions which are sometimes misinterpreted. Ttwd is not a game for us, it's our life. I think that, for many, it is a game. And I truly do believe that's okay, but if you don't want it to be a game, if you want to go deeper, there are certain things and patterns that you have to outgrow, change, and accept. You cannot have it both ways.
That's not me saying that full-time submission is better than part-time. It is simply the truth as I see it to be. I have no interest or even thoughts, really, for D/s that is a game--that is not within the scope of my experience. Nor do I have any desire for it to be so.

I have been trying to walk a middle line with this, because I really do hate seeing anyone express that slave or sub is "Better". I hate to sound trite, but ultimately, it's like comparing apples and oranges--they're both friggin fruit, but they are most definitely not the same thing. They're both good, but one is really only better insofar as the way that you personally feel about eating it. And there's no one "twue" fruit.

I've been blogging for about four years, most of which I identified as a submissive. That has changed. And so, I have noticed, has the way that some people approach their comments. It has also changed my perspective about the comments and posts that I have read elsewhere.

If you are going to criticize someone as being too far in, as not looking out for themselves enough, for abandoning what you believe reality to be, for living in the deep end and sharing their views, perhaps it would be good to check your own insecurities before passing judgement.
If I am advocating for too much and you are afraid that you aren't giving enough, it is not a reflection on me if you feel that I think I am better. It is simply your interpretation of my thoughts.
I live in my mind, and as the saying goes, "I am both better and worse than you can possibly imagine". I know that I am not better than you simply because I live my life as a slave. Nor am I any worse.

Slave, submissive, or vanilla, we all strive to live in a way that works for us. My way is better because it's mine (well, his). Ideally, we are all happy enough with our choices to feel the same way, and intelligent enough to think about what comes out of our mouths (or fingers, as the case may be) before we allow our own insecurities to criticize others.

Complacency In Slavery

 This is the first of a few auto posts. Dunno when I'll have internet again, so I apologise in advance if it takes me a month to answer any comments.

We had a talk about the job and out living arrangements if he gets it, and I'm feeling a lot better about the whole thing, but I'm gonna post this anyways.

In the spirit of complaint, I just have to mention how much I would rather be typing this into my blog at home than sitting at my mom's filling a text document with error ridden ramblings...

So, issue of the week...
This one is important to me. I guess I just feel like I have to explore my feelings before I explode.

The possibility of Alpha living somewhere else for an opportunity he has always dreamed of, and is highly qualified for.
We've been apart for going on 3 weeks now, and may I just mention that panic is setting in at the possibility of this kind of separation being a long term thing?

I had grown complacent with slavery, convinced myself that it was all for him, that his demands were often unreasonable (maybe they are), and that perhaps I wasn't really capable of being the slave he needs--a slave who really and truly couldn't walk away, who lived and breathed to be his, a slave that would do anything that she was told, and was willing to be whatever he wanted, no matter how she felt about it.
In the span of a few short weeks, I have come to wonder how I could have ever managed to convince myself that I could be anything else? Maybe he does deserve a better slave than I, but he owns all that I am. And I have nothing more to give than all in.

Sometimes it feels like the craving for his control is consuming my soul. It's ridiculous really.

And so my fear of abandonment flourishes within our new-found distance and his new-found possibilities. I want this for him. It's huge to have a chance at your dreams, and even better to be as qualified for them as he is. I hope he gets the job. I really do. He has an amazing mind, and he is truly skilled.
And I'm afraid he'll outgrow me. The world is so huge an ripe with possibility an opportunity...While I, well, I am just me...

As I sit here alone in the dark, I can't stop the thoughts of feeling him. It's not so much sex as it is fulfilling the need to fulfill his needs. For him that will express in sex and control. So it's sex and control on my mind. Anything as long as it is at his behest.

It's been a lonely month for me. I have made decisions, become the owner of all that my mom has, acheived the minor miracle of aquiring her medicaid in 2 hours (seriously, if you've ever gotten medicaid, you know that's boast worthy), and spent more time away from home than I have since in forever.

Did I mention that I may have to work a job for my mom with a schedule that would probably guarantee that I didn't see Alpha until AUgust if he gets this job?

I ask myself what I could possibly give him that he couldn't find elsewheree. The only answer that I can come up with is myself. The only thing he can't find with someone else is me. And these days, when I look in the mirror, me doesn't seem to be quite enough for someone like him.

I had grown complacent within slavery, thinking it was a choice, ignoring his soft vicious smile when he told me that it was no longer something which could be chosen or given up. I disagreed when he stated with such surety that no matter what, I would always be his. If we were no longer married and lived a thousand miles apart, I would still, in my heart, hiding at the bottom of my soul, be his. I railed against the arrogance of unwavering belief in his eyes.
These statements are not, however, made in arrogance. They are simply...True.

It's scary when you realize that you will stay with someone no matter what, even if they were to break your heart into a million pieces over and over again. It's even scarier when all those vast possibilities become...More possible.

Hmmm, I'm rambling distractedly.

Complacency, I think, was a mistake. Our recent physical distance has shown me how much slave I am.

More...

Sometimes I feel like no matter how hard I try, no matter how far I think I have come, no matter the amount of energy I put into pleasing him, it's never enough.

He always wants...
More.

And, if you think it's the kinky shit, you're wrong.
Morning sex
checking the mail
morning sex
more compliance on every level
morning sex
more vanilla oriented service
morning sex.

I did mention that the morning sex thing is really a big deal for me...? I know it's something normal people look forward to, but seriously--I just want to go pee without asking permission (and not in the cup), make coffee, not feel that desperate desire for release, drink the whole cup of coffee myself, and completely ignore those around me.

You know how impossible it is to ignore a Dom, right?

Sometimes it's not even because he wants, it's only because he wants me to do what he wants. So I do.
I feed the beast, and I feed it, and I feed it, but it's never sated. And often it's not kink, it's coffee and tea, errands, and tone that used to be acceptable but isn't anymore, responses which used to be tolerated that are now punishable...

I love that he is too much for me.
I hate that he is too much for me.
I hope that he is always too much for me.

The more he takes, the more I give. Until I am sure that I am empty, that there is nothing left and I hate him just a little for it. But not as much as I hate the thought that he might stop because I want him to.
He demands more and more and more, until I am so empty that I become full.
His need fills me up, his desires bind me.

I love that he is too much for me
I hate that he is too much for me
I hope that he is always too much for me
and that I will forever be striving to feed the needs of that beast
but always, always I pray that he will find me pleasing
and that he will feed on me because long ago, I asked him to let the beast free.

Time and Place

His grip tightened on my wrist as he drove slowly and inexorably into me,
"Time and place don't matter. You are always mine. No matter where we are, no matter what time it is, I own every square inch of your being in every way. Always."

On the surface, this is a simple concept. Perhaps its complexity is simple too. However, it is a vast and all-encompassing statement with repercussions far beyond the surface. To sum up something as complex as power exchange in one sentence, is not easy. Yet, he does it.
There is that natural ebb and flow, but there is no such thing as an off switch for us. One cannot take time off from being who they are.

It could be said that time is a concept I struggle with, no matter the context. It goes by so fast, you know? I ponder yesterday while I'm worrying about tomorrow and trying to get through today. It's really a terrible approach that is difficult to change.
When I focus on our D/s, on being his and pleasing him, that is when I am most often in the moment.

As a kid, I often thought about the joys of being an adult (ha--clearly, no one told me) and about how wonderful it would be when my time was my own. Now, I am at my best when I am focusing on the fact that everything in my life, even time itself, is really his.

Time...Having kids in the house 24/7 limits certain activities and the time that can be spent on them. Seems though, that we might actually be starting to get a weekend or two a month to ourselves on a fairly regular basis.
This thrills me to no end. In the way that one feels slightly sick to their stomach as they peer over the edge of a cliff...
The notion is obscenely beautiful, terrifying in it's complexity, comforting in it's simplicity and all consuming as only he can be...

Because I know that I committed to a creature of extremes, a man of an all or nothing nature, who's unbridled presence I find both terrifying and comforting.
Being alone with him is very much like being locked in a cage with an alpha wolf--the only choice is to submit. Obedience isn't optional, and complete submission is the path to salvation.
He is judge
jury
executioner
and savior.
He will make me beg for deliverance
for him, from him, to him...
I will crawl on my knees, begging for redemption
and he will say,

"Shhh, just a little bit more. Time and place do not matter. You are always mine. No matter where we are, no matter what time it is, I own every square inch of your being in every way. Always."

And always, there is the unspoken truth...

To Be Pleasing

I have been doing a lot of thinking lately. Even more so than usual, I suppose. I'm not entirely sure that it's a healthy addiction...

And I wonder...
I am to please
such is the purpose of a slave, is it not?

To be pleasing
to bring pleasure and joy
to bare one's truth and offer up one's soul
to surpass the limits of human connection
and explore the depths of depravity
to be the one constant in a world devoid of stability
to serve and surrender
to live for that smile of appreciation
and take the ultimate leap of faith
to breath at his command
and accept that forever never ends
to hand over your pleasure and pain
and strive for the elusive "Good girl"
to give up control of your days
and getting your own way
to give all that one has
and all that one is
to exist simply for the "Mine" whispered quietly into the darkness
to know that purpose is defined by him
to be human as his human being.

To be what pleases him.

And if he does not find me pleasing...Then perhaps I am not really what I have thought myself to be.

Perspective

I often think that we are pretty tame--in the lighter end of the spectrum of ttwd perhaps.
I sometimes complain about his expectations, and put on a front that he asks too much, but really? I think he's pretty easy going and not all that strict.

It's kind of like that beautiful long drive to town--I don't really like it. I see the road, and the tourists. I know every turn, and where the elk are most likely to be. I can close my eyes and drive it in my sleep because I have seen it a million times.
But if I step back and look at it with fresh eyes, pretending that it is a previously unseen view? It's stunning, and I can see why people stop to gawk, and come from far away places to see that which I have grown to take for granted.

Our relationship is a bit like that.
I walk around feeling like we are just a couple steps from vanilla, then I take a look at a "Normal" vanilla relationship, and wonder if we are even on the same planet.

There are very few decisions that I make on my own, and even when I do, it's when he has told me to (just call me Miss Independent).
My hair is how he likes it
my clothes are what he approves of
the food I cook is what he wants (never mind the rice. Damn the rice)
I maintain my body in a manner that pleases him
I think of that body in terms of it being his far more than I see it as mine
as easy going as he seems on the surface, he's actually quite strict--but that is our "normal"
I don't question the plugs, the golden showers, the enemas, the restraint, the slaps
I accept that his are the only limits I have
I accept that he decides if anyone else touches me, and he is free to explore with other women if he so chooses
the list could go on and on...
In fact, having spent my entire adult life with him (beginning several years before I technically hit that landmark), I don't know any other way to be besides his.

I think that it's easy to fall into the thought that D/s and M/s are the same as kinky fun.
Really, there's only so much kinky shit two people can do with kids in the home 24/7.
And that's where I fall into comfortably thinking that we live in the shallow end of possibility. The thing is...Ttwd is not always defined by actions alone. It can be a mindset and an approach to life with another human being.

If slavery means picking up the dirty laundry next to the basket, or being whipped to tears
if slavery means making decisions I don't want to, and accepting responsibility for things I don't want to be responsible for, all the while accepting his word as final in all things
if slavery means baring my soul and giving him access to every private thought
if I accept that my slavery is whatever he says it is
then I am well and truly further down the rabbit hole than I every thought to go.

I couldn't pick out the exact moment when the shift was made
I couldn't tell you when
or how
I stopped being his submissive
and became his slave.

But I do know that I accept ttwd to be whatever he says it is. And that itself is my slavery.

Possible Consequences of Theoretical Events

Since I had nothing better to do, I was thinking about a decision which I may or may not have to make, and which may or may not be optional.
Okay, maybe there was something better to do, but since I'm crawling my way voraciously out of the pit of death (otherwise known as the common flu, for those of you lacking a proper sense of drama), I get a little leeway.
Anyways, I'm wandering away from my point--I was thinking about possible consequences of this theoretical event. Not the kind of consequences that reasonable people consider, oh no. Because, as Alpha says, my mind never, "shuts the fuck up".
I was pondering what would happen to my already challenged libido. As in the possibility of it disappearing completely. Forever.
And how he loves me, and I am, to him overall, irreplaceable.

As somebody who gives him the sexual pleasure he needs; however, I am not irreplaceable.
There is only so much in the sexual arena that he is willing to take despite my dislike.
Because he wants me to want it.
But should I be unable to provide for those needs, eventually, he will feed them elsewhere.

When one begins to consider their replace-ability, you realize that there is merit to being owned for a long period of time.
Because isn't that one of the issues that sometimes arises when you have been married for ages, that there is always someone younger and prettier, someone newer, someone different, someone who wants the same things and has the same sexual needs to fill?

Yet

she doesn't know the things I know
she doesn't know exactly how he likes his coffee
or when he takes his showers
she doesn't know what food he detests
or how he likes his back rubbed
she doesn't know what he likes to do
or what he finds attractive
she doesn't know the habits he finds intolerable
or what he finds pleasing.

Those things, and so much more, are learned over time.
They are accumulated in every interaction
every correction
every "Good girl"
every argument, and every agreement.
Knowledge of each other is amassed slowly over time
the slave is made
molded
taught, and observed.
Perhaps the submissive is born, but the slave is created.

As such, she can be remade
as a possession, she can be replaced
but the time that has been spent on her is not comparable to the monetary value an object can assume
and as such
that time cannot be replaced.

The slave may be a possession, but she is not inanimate
she is unique
with desires
wants
and needs.

Time has been spent on her creation
years have been paid for her tuition
the title of slave can name her identity
but it cannot hold the sum of her humanity
and so, as a whole, she may become irreplaceable.

But, if he wants more, there's nothing to say that she will always remain the only one.

Submission, Slavery, and Other Ramblings

After my whole little identity crisis a while back, I did what any codependent normal woman would do--I asked Alpha what I am.
See, I get one question after sex. Not having asked any for a while, I tried to claim that I had some banked up but he said I didn't get roll-over minutes lol.
His response was exactly what I thought it would be (with a couple of added bonuses). He said "Mine. You are a glorious amazing creature. And you are mine."

I think that submission is often about choosing to submit. Slavery is...No longer making that choice quite as often perhaps? Which, in theory, would make it a bit simpler...Though I do have every confidence in my ability to make anything complicated.
Every submissive becomes at least a little bit enslaved, every slave submits. So the lines are perhaps not extremely clear. Nor are they necessarily incredibly important except for assisting in personal definitions I suppose.

I see myself as property. I have rights--I accept the rights I am given. Not always gracefully, but I do accept them.
There are aspects of my life that he displays no interest in controlling. He governs other areas with an iron fist. And I have learned to accept that I don't choose those areas--to do so would not be submitting. That acceptance however, doesn't mean that I don't ever struggle with it (I think my last post highlights that quite blindingly lol).

I don't have my own limits (no need for the whole "what if he decides to cut off your leg?!" spiel), I have his limits. Chopping off limbs is among them, just in case anyone wanted to push the issue lol.

We often are, or become, what we see ourselves to be. Sometimes we become what others see us to be because we allow their image of us to overshadow our own.

Alpha used to tell me that I existed to be his slave. And that bothered me a lot. Because surely, there should be more meaning to my existence? But I think that I was looking at it through an excessively small window of view.
One single purpose does not negate all others.

He used to tell me that I was his slave. I would gasp and backpedal and deny it until I was blue in the face.
But that was before I realized that, for me, the foundation of D/s lies in his definitions of it. Within his definition of what I am.

If he says that I am his submissive, I am. If he says that I am his slave, I am.
Ultimately, what matters most is that, in both forms of speech, I am His. And we both know it.

Inspirations Looking Further Into The Abyss

 This may make no sense whatsoever...

I have come to find that, for the most part, labels are not extremely helpful when it comes to ttwd. They create a tendency to attempt defining ourselves, that can actually narrow our parameters and the directions in which we think we can grow. And no one label is going to fit one person in every situation.

But there is a way that I find labels rather helpful--when it comes to defining concepts or they help me to be open to possibilities that I had previously not considered.

Taking me a while to get going here lol, apparently I do need sleep.
Anyways...I read this post greengirl wrote, and wheels started turning in my brain when she said "that is why it is called submitting and not being enslaved.  And it is, it is submitting each time," I had this moment, like trying to remember a dream, something was clicking but the light wouldn't turn on lol. Then she followed up with this, and I finally got the light turned on (kinda anyways lol) when she said "For me, the difference between slavery and submission doesn't have to do with consent. I think that the relevant part has to do with how I see my purpose. I'm not able to feel my purpose as, above all else, to serve him."
And I got...

Here.

Yes, I'm just getting started. I recommend coffee or running away lol.

Ever since we began ttwd Alpha will occasionally remark that I am his slave. Uh who, me? Nope. Never. Isn't so, not gonna happen. This little exchange is always followed by him shrugging, smiling infuriatingly at me, and saying "you are whatever I say you are."

And I used to object to that, the idea of being whatever he says I am, because well, I'm not and that's just ridiculous right?
Hmmm, not so much. I no longer have a retort, nor do I really desire to offer one. I don't have a problem with being whatever he says I am. I guess that may sound ludicrous, or it may sound like a small thing. But for me, it's neither.

And I think that all the definitions of slavery and submission that matter most are created by the person having the experience.
I have very much limited myself to the experience of submission. Though I find that the concept of enslavement is no longer objectionable like it once was.
For me, I have come to believe that submission is a choice, a mindset, a way of living--a part of who I am. Being enslaved is going beyond those choices, a more extreme focus of purpose, the place where no longer is the choice made, it just...Is.

Separating, defining, and labeling have been my ways of clinging to the edges, saying what I'm not while denying what I am and could become.

Perhaps my recent hold-ups are more about fear of infinite possibility than anything else. The fear that I could truly see my purpose as merely to serve.
And I'm not quite sure yet how exactly I feel about that.

I do know that, when he walks away shrugging his shoulders and telling me that I am whatever he says I am, I am content.