Knife Play

Shy girl asked us to elaborate on what we mean when we talk about "knife play..."

Knife play, like so many other practices in the wide world of BDSM, is a highly variable activity. Generally, play with knives is considered "edge play." Of course it is.


Knives have great psychic impact. I doubt that there are very many people who don't harbor at least a twinge of fear of a well fashioned blade. Knives can kill you, and that alone makes them objects with import.


Master collects knives; has collected knives for years and years. I don't have any real idea how many knives He owns, but I am very sure that His collection numbers in the many hundreds. He is never without at least a few knives. He carries them in His pockets, on His belt, in His wallet, on a chain around His neck ... heck, He sleeps with them clipped to His underwear! This photo shows just a handful -- some of His favorites.





For us, knife play is some admixture of sensual stimulation, mind games, and occasional mild pain play -- although He has never cut me when we've played (except for the cutting, and that was an intentional event -- not really knife play). A knife is a very versatile instrument for creating physical sensation. Knives have a point, a cutting edge, a back edge, and a flat face. Even the handle can be a source of interesting sensations with some knives. Generally, if He plays with me with knives, it involves Him running the knife along my skin, tracing welts, poking with the point, tickling. I know He won't cut me, and it is still an interesting mental game -- lying still and absorbing the intense sensory stimulation that the cold blade can create. Occasionally, with some of His larger knives, He's even inclined to use them as spanking implements, and that is flat scary! Most often, He will trace the scar lines of the cutting with His knife. Feeling Him moving the tip of a blade across those very sensitive marks on my shoulder blade takes me deep into my most submissive self, as I relive the night when they were first cut into my flesh. If I am feeling fussy or unsettled, that one simple act of tracing the cutting can calm me and center me...

So, when we talk about "knife play," that's what we are referring to -- a shared enjoyment of the knives that give Him such pleasure. Ours is not the extremely high end, edgy variety of knife play that one occasionally sees in dungeons. It is, however, a fine and delicate practice carried out with all the expertise that He possesses, and shared between us with a huge dose of pleasure and joy.

swan

Step By Step

We slept very late this morning. As both He and I recover from the colds we've battled for the last week, it does seem that we have an almost insatiable need for sleep...

I woke some little bit before Him, and as often happens when I have time to just lie there and fret, I managed to work myself into a fairly gloomy head space. It comes out of an internal monologue that goes round and round in an elliptical orbit, basically revolving around a couple of points:

FIRST -- I fuss to myself that, no matter what happens, it is all going to lead to that darned paddle. Emotionally, if all roads lead to Rome, and you are not really interested in going to Rome, then the road begins to seem way less interesting.

THEN -- I yank myself up by my collar and explain to myself that it really doesn't matter what I want or like. It is slavery, dummy (that's what I call myself when I find myself having good slave/bad slave conversations in my head), and since it IS slavery, He doesn't have to care how I feel or what I want. Remember, dummy, this is supposed to be about making Him happy.

Then back to the first point, then on to the second, then first, then second... Repeat until the whole of life seems dull, gray, and entirely dismal.

By the time He woke up and was ready to play, I'd worn myself down to the hopeless, who gives a shit, place where it just really didn't make any difference to me one way or another. "It all ends up being about the paddle anyway," I told Him. "So, we might as well just start out there and skip all the other stuff... Grab the paddle, and I'll go get us set up." And I trudged off like Eyore on a particularly grumpy day.

Now, I am the slave, and He is the Master, and He really doesn't have to care how I feel, but He does care anyway. I think He gets a little baffled by the circuitous route that my thinking can take, and I know that He really doesn't get the difficulties and struggles that I seem to have with SM play. For Him it is all about spanking, and there is surely no dearth of material out here in Cyber space written by "bottoms" who just love spanking, so how is it that it seems so all fired complicated for me to just settle in and go with it? But, sometimes, He just shrugs and tries to figure out how to do things in a way that will make it "good for me, too."

That ended up being the path He took this morning. While I was getting myself all smashed into the crack in the sofa, where I could just hang on and wallow in the misery of it all, He was wandering around amongst the toys, gathering up a whole collection of implements that we don't use a lot of the time: the new wenge cane, and the dressage whip, and a couple of leather straps, and the rattan cane, and... yes, the paddle.

He started off with a really long, really intense, really good hand spanking, and some knife play, and I found myself following along with the sensations, and losing track of the continual mental bitch that was going on in my head. And then that wenge cane -- that lands with such a surprising slap. It is not nearly as intense as it looks like it would be, but it is out there... The contrast between that heaviness and the light, stingy, whippiness of the dressage whip was really stunning, and I found myself shivering and shaking and vibrating between sets of things -- just trying to process the energy that seemed to be surging through me.

Playing on the couch, keeps Him in contact with me in a way that isn't really possible when we play in the bed. I was acutely aware of His hand on my back, holding me in place, but also just steadying me and keeping me calm and focused and centered where He wanted me.

At some point, He took me through that litany of questions and responses that binds the two of us together:

"Whose are you?"

"Yours, Sir."

"And when?"

"Always, Sir."

"And how?"

"All ways, Sir."

I don't remember exactly how it all went... what came first and second and third. I remember grunting and whimpering and breathing and shaking. I remember pain... And then, suddenly, He was pushing His fingers into my pussy, pumping into and out of me as I writhed and groaned and howled. I was amazed and shocked and thrilled and excited and entirely lost, completely His. I came in a shattering, sputtering, growling, exhausting bodyquake of an orgasm.

Laying there, breathless and grateful and spent, I heard Him tell me it was time for the paddle, and there wasn't one shred of resistance or frustration or anger or denial in me. He paddled my already tender ass, and paddled and paddled and paddled. I hurt for Him and happily... and then He pulled me unsteadily to my feet and walked me back into the bedroom.

Later, as we talked about it, He was clearly baffled about what made it go so well this morning -- do different from other times. It is hard for me to find words about what works and doesn't work for me in session. It isn't something that seems to have a prescribed formula. Today though, I felt as though things progressed more slowly. The image in my head was of walking across a flowing stream on some well placed stepping stones. Step by step, I was able to follow His lead into the deeper waters without getting swept away in the flooding emotions of fear and anger that well up in me when I am overwhelmed at the beginning of a session. It really is true that, for me -- for us, spanking is akin to sex, and just as I am slower to "warm up" sexually, it takes me longer these days to get ready for intense spanking. But I am only slower. Clearly it is still possible for me to "get to it" with enough time. I can still follow the path and find my way across the river...

swan

"Too Long" Comment That Became a Post...

I was going to comment in answer to a question asked by sin in her comment to my last post. I found I had all sorts of things I wanted to say about this particular question, and so I wrote and wrote and wrote... And when I went to try and post the comment, it turned out that Blogger didn't like it because, in the world of Blogger, it seems that comments cannot be longer than 4096 characters. I guess you learn something new everyday!

So, no way around it... This is the "too long" comment that became a post.

sin – I think that Master did a good job of responding to most of your questions in His comment. However, I think that, at the end of your comment, you've asked exactly the question that most people hesitate to really get to -- "Do you not do it because you don't want to or because he doesn't want you to?"


Thinking about that, I ended up in a sort of interesting mental exploration of how I really do feel about the whole question.


First of all, I think it is obvious (at least it is obvious to me) that if “He doesn’t want me to…” then that is the end of the discussion. What I want or do not want, is really just not germane. It goes to the basic, incontrovertible nature of M/s.


But, let’s just for the heck of it (and because it is summer and I have time on my hands), imagine that He would be “OK” with me seeking out another relationship. Given that entirely hypothetical scenario, I found myself contemplating the practical realities that would have to be negotiated if I were to seek out and actively attempt to create another intimate relationship…


I’m feeling sort of logical / scientific about this at the moment, so let’s dispense with the “hearts and flowers” business and just talk about the nuts and bolts. Starting to think about this, it seems like there are a variety of potentials, so let me address them one at a time:


1) It is possible that “lightning could strike,” and I might simply smash into some fellow without any plan or any warning and lose my heart in an inexplicable and fated event. I can’t imagine how that would happen, and there just is nothing much that I can offer about the possibility that the universe would be THAT perverse.


2) It is possible that I might run into another partner who wants to play; to be Top or Dominant with me. My reaction to that is that I am not feeling the need for ANOTHER spanker in my life. I have all I can handle, thanks.


3) So… another relationship – hmmmmm. I think the only time that I really thought about another relationship was during all those months after my hysterectomy (and let's just specify that a woman who is dropped suddenly into menopause is not likely to be thinking rationally -- so forgive me). When my sexual response capacity went in the tank; when all the “medical” fixes for the problem turned out to be of no real use; when I was so depressed and despairing at the prospect of a lifetime without ever having any sexual pleasure again, I wondered if it would happen if I had a lover who was engaged in simply the pleasure of a woman’s body, and not “into” hurting that same body… I did, during that time, construct an imaginary guy that would know what to do, would take the time, would be interested in coaxing the sexiness back to life.


My hypothetical guy was, in my mind, going to be some sort of sexual magician who would be into bringing menopausal women to the heights of ecstasy. Yeah, that sounds just about perfect.


Except that being a sexual virtuoso isn't enough. I have a couple of other “must haves.” The starting point for me is this -- I’m absolutely in love with Master. I am committed to my slavery to Master. I am not interested in creating ANY kind of dynamic that is going to get in the way of what I have. So …

• My mystery guy would have to be willing to work out the “permissions” for this whole thing, right from the very start, with Master.


• He would have to be willing to “fit into” my schedule, which is of course, Master’s schedule. I’ve got to be able to be home whenever He wants or needs me – to fix dinner, to prepare for bed, to be around for any of a host of other duties and responsibilities that are not just “optional.”


• It would be important for my imaginary “love interest” to be very flexible since I never know what the demands on my time might be. It might be that we would make plans, and then something would come up and I’d have to cancel.


• He’d have to be comfortable with the need for me to stay in touch and stay in contact with Master -- my cell phone is always "on" and handy.


• This guy would have to agree to go along with any requirements or rules or expectations that Master might have around the nature of the interactions we might have.

Yup. I think that about covers the territory that I imagine for this potential “other” relationship. Except that here’s the problem… Any guy that would agree to that kind of deal is a pure wuss, and I am just not into submissive men. Any guy who would be willing to contemplate entering into a relationship on those terms – well, I can’t imagine that I’d have enough respect for him to want to have anything to do with him. No balls, and no sense of self-worth, and no personal power means there's just no attraction for me. Blech!


How's that for a circular arguement, sin?


swan

Harem?

"When did being poly become having a harem?"

That's the question that someone asked at Fetlife recently. The original post to the topic thread said:

"I seem to have missed this memo.
I mean, don't get me wrong, having a harem is kind of a cool thought, and if it happens, I'm not gonna cry about it, but it seems that there are a lot of men (and some women) that adopt the moniker of being poly to justify this sort of behavior... Polyamory comes from Latin/Greek roots meaning "loving many". This implies that those who would be poly would be in favor of keeping and maintaining many relationships ...When a Master is ok with keeping three women in his household but is not ok with any of them looking for other relationships, it isn't poly, its a dynamic of the relationship they've built and should be labeled as such."


Discussion ensued, and I was a little surprised to see how many believe that when you combine BDSM with "poly," that it really ends up being something else and not poly at all... maybe its a harem, and maybe it needs some other label -- someone proposed poly-mastery -- but it isn't poly if some parties to the relationship are "unavailable."


As time has passed, and the conversation has meandered, I've moved from surprise and bemusement to some emotional position that feels like it is wedged between frustration and fury. Can these idiots spell, "WTF?"


I asked the question, "Since when did being poly become synonymous with being available?" It was perhaps rhetorical, but that doesn't mean that I don't actually seek an answer. I understand that there are non-poly and vanilla people who really don't understand; who don't have a lot of information about this relationship style, and I've sort of gotten used to working my way through the assumptions and misconceptions. I am, however, much less patient with what feels like deliberate stupidity, or personal bias, or some evil combination of both when I encounter these attitudes within the poly/BDSM community. I just don't think I ought to have to explain or justify myself or my choices or my committments to other kinky folks.


But maybe I'm wrong. Maybe an explanation would be helpful. Maybe it really is necessary. So, here it is:

• I am a slave.
• I am owned by Master, and He is poly.
• Our family is a triad-V, and that is outside the boundary defined by the social construct of monogamy.
• That family structure is driven by our shared love for one another, by our various orientations to life and BDSM, and by Master's desires and vision.
• And we are an entirely heterosexual family.
• Some might call our orientation poly-fidelitous. We are surely committed to one another.
• Poly, for us, does not connote "promiscuous" or "indiscriminate," or "bisexual," and I don't understand when those orientations to sexual interactions became the standard, or the requirement, in poly circles.
• Master does actively and openly seek out other partners for BDSM play and relatedness.
• He does not expect His property to be seeking out other partners.
• It may not look "fair" to outside observers.
• Power-exchanges are often constructed in ways that are deliberately "not fair," especially by outside standards.
• What we do is consensual.
• We'll be happy to explain the dynamic in whatever detail is necessary to make it as clear as possible if that will help those who are curious to understand.
  

There. Does that help? It is what it is. We call it poly. We call it M/s and D/s. We call it love. If you wonder about who we are or how we are or who is and is not available for whatever, just ask. Better yet, build a relationship with us -- start with "hello," and you will figure it all out. Just stop making assumptions; stop trying to make us fit into your preconceived little boxes; stop bringing your biases and your predjudices into my world and slapping me up alongside the head with it. Because, the truth is, that when I see people go on and on like that, I tend to get to a point where I just assume that they are stupid. Enough said.

swan

Doctors ... Grrrrrrrr

I have, as T reported over the weekend, a nasty, icky, summer cold. Master, too. Symptoms are chest and head congestion, a cough that tends to bring up stuff that you really do not want to know about, and occasional, low-grade fever, and a general feeling of tiredness. He had a bout of intestinal unease over the weekend, and I did the same last evening. It has been going on for awhile, this "bug," and it isn't clear that it is getting any better.

So, yesterday, He called the doctor. He got the receptionist on the phone, gave her the list of symptoms, and within just a few hours, she was back with the news that they were phoning a prescription for an antibiotic into the pharmacy. Nothing to it. Done.

I had been thinking that I was feeling some better, but last night was just awful, so this morning, He insisted that I call the doctor myself. We see the exact same doctors in the exact same practice. So, I called. Gave the receptionist the list of symptoms, identical to His.

AND?

She told me that she could make me an appointment to see the doctor. Really? OK. I guess. It makes a little bit of sense. Master has been in way more often in the last few months. They have seen Him a lot in the aftermath of His surgery, so maybe it is about being "unfamiliar" with my case...after all, it has been 3 whole months since they got an office visit fee from me! So, I grumbled, but agreed to make an appointment. That appointment? Scheduled for July 8 -- on week from today.

I am furious! Well, I'd be furious if I were well enough to generate that much energy. By the time a week goes by, I'll either be well or I'll be in the hospital. Either way, I am sure as HELL not going to be paying the worthless doctor a fee for an office visit. That just burns my butt! GRRRRRR...

swan

OTK Redux

Oh yes.

There'll be no surprise over this for anyone who has been reading us for very long, but the OTK? post created the impetus last night for a little "over the knee" session on the new sofa.

As it turns out, He says that He "loves" OTK. He told me that He's always loved it but had stopped doing it because it was so difficult for me. As we talked, we remembered that I had an "encapsulated shoulder" just about the time I turned 50. An encapsulated shoulder hurts, and the range of motion gets seriously limited. It seems that it is an ailment that women are particularly susceptible to -- especially as they move into menopause. It took months for me to decide that the shoulder had gotten bad enough for me to go see a doctor about it, and then it took months of therapy and treatment for it to finally resolve itself. What Master remembers is that the physical stresses of being over His lap were particularly complicated by that ailment, and so He simply gave it up.

So, last night, around 11:00, I got started doing my usual bedtime routine -- filling His drinks, setting up His bi-PAP, turning down the bed, tracking down all the various remote controls ... He didn't say anything at all, but He busied Himself with pulling the blinds in the living room. Odd.

He let me scurry around and do all the various odds and ends, and then just at the point where we would have tumbled into bed and started putting lotion on His hands and oil on His scars, and the like, He grabbed my hand and led me off to the living room. He'd gathered a few implements and they were laying there on the sofa. We fumbled a bit as we tried to remember which way I needed to go, but it didn't take long and I was laid out with my face buried in the leather cushions, and my butt in the air across His lap.

He started with a long, sensuous hand spanking. Heaven! I love hand spanking, and there is a fairly disparate view between He and I about how frequently that happens and to what degree. Of course, in my fantasy, I'd gotten OTK associated with hand-spanking, and so there was that moment where I was "disappointed" when He moved on to implements, including that new paddle that He just loves (more about my current "hand-spanking" obsession later).

There was that internal voice of mine, fussing and pouting about how "unfair" it is that He always gets to do what He wants and I never, ever get exactly what I want. The voice pokes at me, and taunts me with that very sardonic definition of slavery -- "slavery is when no one has to care how you feel..." That usually pisses me off, but it also puts me back into my right mind pretty quickly. Go figure.

Anyway, I ended up with a very hot, very red bottom. Interestingly, I had no welts, no bruising, and no broken skin or bleeding. That is really pretty remarkable for me these days.

He and I ended up feeling very happy with ourselves, and with each other. We got up from the sofa, went into the bedroom, and made love. It was a wonderful, warm, hot way to end the day, and we both drifted peacefully off to sleep.

The promise, today, is that He'll have me over His lap "everynight." Ask and you will receive...

swan

Ex Mother In Law

My ex-husband's mother died last week after a long battle with lung cancer.

I found out about her death when my daughter posted a bit about it on her Facebook page.

It is an odd place to be for me, because I surely do not mourn the passing of this woman. She was mean and domineering and did horrific damage to the psychological health of the eight children that she bore. They were neglected and abused, and their mother was most often too drunk to notice or care. The oldest struggled throughout their childhoods to care for those who were younger, and there isn't a one of them who isn't just flat "weird" in one way or another.

However, she is "grandma" to my two children, and I do want to respect whatever they might be feeling about her passing, and I worry how their father might react -- and how that will impact them.

I called them both last night, when I heard the news, and they seem mostly... confused. They were not close to her. We made sure that they knew their grandparents when they were young children, but their paternal grandfather died when they were still pre-teens. Then, as they grew into adolescence the difficulties that they encountered growing up seemed to create distance that their grandmother simply would not reach across. As she moved away from them, she seemed to carry with her the entirety of the extended family on that side, so aunts, uncles, and cousins "vanished" from their lives too. I think my "kids" want to acknowledge the relationship, and they seem to feel that there is some appropriate grief that they should feel in this instance, but mostly, they just seem "empty." It is sad.

I do not want to be "disrespectful" here, but I cannot join in the chorus of well wishes and hopes for her "eternal rest." I have no idea where she might be headed -- not at all sure that she is "headed" anywhere. I feel bad about feeling this way, but the fact is that if there is some "everlasting reward," I'd argue that Joan doesn't have any REWARD coming to her. Not, mind you that anyone really cares about how I feel in this case. I'm sorry she suffered at the end of her life. I'm sorry that her children and her grandchildren must now mourn this loss. I hope that their pain can heal quickly and leave only the faintest of scars. I want this to pass through their lives as gently as it can.

For myself, I think the world is well done with the woman.

swan

OTK?

We have a new sofa. Black leather and it reclines. It is really comfy.

Oddly, having it sit there in the living room day after day has me thinking about OTK. I wonder where THAT comes from? We don't do OTK. Ever. Well, OK...hardly ever. Probably, in the time we've been together, I've been over His knee maybe four or five times.

There are probably a whole host of reasons for that:

• He has arthritis in His knees. One was replaced in 2005, and the other one needs to be replaced. He's never said to me that doing OTK hurts Him, but I worry anyway.
• I have tended to feel insecure in the over the lap position. Along with my hearing loss, there is a balance/equilibrium issue, and there is something about being upended that causes me to become convinced that I am in danger of falling. Never mind the logic of it -- after all, even if I did fall from His lap (which is highly unlikely) it isn't like I'd fall 50 feet!
• Before His surgery, He was heavy enough that there really wasn't much lap to lay across. It's a pretty pedestrian reason for not doing things that way, but there it is.
• I've always just felt awkward and out of proportion in the customary "over the knee" position. Somehow, the "too tall" thing seems to get exagerated when I'm across His lap. I don't suppose that would matter if He were determined, but as things stand, it lessens the likelihood...
• I think, too, that OTK feels very much connected with and evocative of DD (domestic discipline), and that just isn't our kink. We're much more attuned to good old fashioned BDSM play. People often think that BDSM is all about "sex," but there are times when "our" kind of kink relies on more distance. Intimacy that is too close seems to interfere in some fashion.
• I also think that OTK might be too restrictive for Him. I don't know. We've never actually discussed it, but I'd imagine it could be difficult or impossible to use some implements with me over His lap.

I don't know what's going on with my mind these days. I seem more inclined to think about spanking and more likely to be thinking about it in odd ways -- at least odd ways for me. Maybe I've just gotten old -- or maybe I'm finally through the hormonal morass of the last few years. Whatever. all I know for sure is that the comfy black sofa just sits there looking at me, and in my mind at least, the idea of OTK speaks of intimacy and closeness and long, sensual, hand spankings. I'm probably just fanasizing my way to disappointment, but knowing that doesn't seem to have any impact at all on my wayward, kinky brain.

swan

Spanking Dreams

As T reported, Master and I have colds ... nasty summer colds with some pretty intense chest congestion and coughing and general crumminess. He's a few days ahead of me with this, and getting closer to being well I think.

Last night was just miserable. I suspect, although I never really checked, that I was running a fever. I was achy and miserable with that kind of hyper-sensitivity that makes me think that I can feel air molecules hitting my skin. The mattress seemed too hard, and the sheets seemed too rough, and the air that comes from His bi-PAP seemed like a stream of marbles bouncing off my skull. When I did sleep, I'd dream that sort of weird and wildish dream that is driven by a fevered brain, and of course, for me, that means the spanko-masochist runs wild and free.

In my dream, I was walking down a hallway in some public building. I'm not sure what exactly was going on in the place. In my memory, it seems like it might have been a school or a hospital or a civic building like a courthouse or something similar. I was wearing a pair of nice looking black trousers as I went about whatever business I had in the place. Suddenly, I realized that I had a giant, Daisy Duke hole in the seat of my pants, and my butt was hanging out for all the world to see.

I froze in place, backed up to the wall, and stood there in a panic, trying to figure out how to get out of the place. Maybe I could just wrap a towel around my waist and walk out, but where does a person find a towel in a public building ... ? So, I did the logical thing and started yelling at the top of my lungs for Master. Of course!

So, my mind is trying to get me spanked even as my poor sick little body just won't do it. Figures! Sheesh! Maybe tomorrow...

swan

They're Sick

Both Tom and swan are sick.

Tom got a summer cold last week and he has passed it to swan. She is sleeping alot and they are both living on cold capsules and cough syrup.

I am thinking of putting a HUGE red "Q" on their door so people will know they are Quarantined.

Just wanted you all to know that we are all alive....just coughing up "frog parts" as swan is prone to saying.

I am not sick. I am carrying a cross, garlic, and face mask....

T

"When I Grow Up, I Want To Be Just Like..."

I hope I can be forgiven for continuing to talk about the struggles of my friend, morningstar. It is just that her latest comment on my Rules post caused a flood of responses to come up in my mind, and I really feel that I need to take some time to talk my way through it all --

She wrote:

When i look at the relationship you have with Raheretic .... you always seem to know what is expected... or .. better put.. you always DO what is expected ..... and i admire that.... and tend to say "when i grow up i want to be just like her"...... because you see i DO tend to make decisions on my own about these expectations.. which is where most of our problems have stemmed from.. my doing what i think is right at the time... often times putting my own interests etc before Sir's... At first.. they were smallish things... like a grain of sand in your shoe.. annoying but not enough to stop and fix the problem.... it was when there was a whole mess of sand in His shoe that He stopped and decided to fix the problem....... ugh... perhaps i should spend some time trying to put down in words on my own blog what has been going on.... but ya see... i find it embarrassing and humiliating... and i feel as though i have been lying for months and months.... and it is very difficult to stand up tall and say "mea culpa"

My first and strongest reaction to all of this, but especially the "you always DO what is expected" piece, was an immediate denial and disclaimer. In my head, there was an insistent voice that kept repeating the question, "Doesn't she know; doesn't EVERYONE know, how often and how colossally I screw up?" I imagine that I am not the only person who is gifted with that particular voice. I could be wrong, but I think that there are many of us who just KNOW that we are not nearly as good at this as people think we are. I am pretty sure that there is a (largely unacknowledged and unexamined) part of my psyche that believes that I have fooled everyone; am nowhere near as good or wise or submissive or strong or whatever, as everyone thinks I am; and that it is all balanced precariously just waiting to tumble into a heap when somebody catches on and blows the whistle on me.

There is a benefit, I suppose, to being possessed of an appropriately critical and honest internal monitor that reminds us that we are far from perfect; that we have plenty of room for growth and improvement. Humility is a good thing -- especially in a person who follows the path of slavery or submission. That "voice" can assist us in our continued work to learn to live and serve with joy and integrity, with grace and dignity.

Unfortunately, many of us, myself included, have internal monitors that are prone to take on the voice of those from our past that hurt and damaged us. Where we suffer from poor self-image, and a hobbled self-esteem, the hyper-critical internal monitor can tell us that we have failed; that we are stupid; that we are ugly and lazy. The voice that should guide and strengthen us becomes predatory and ravenous and destructive.

I have been lucky. Master has consistently refused to allow me to succumb to self-talk that denigrates the worth of His property. Some of the most difficult and impactful discipline that I have ever been subjected to has come as a direct response to instances when I have fallen into that abyss. Over time, I believe that the volume has been turned down on those voices from my past. These days, I am much more tuned into His evaluation of my worth, and much less inclined to react and respond based on hurts and disappointments from the past.

All of that allows me to focus more consistently and clearly on living up to His expectations. There is less "noise" to cope with. Of course, the drawback, from my perspective, is that I don't have that as a line of escape anymore. Because, the truth is that, when I was still moored in the muck of self-doubt and self-blame, I could retreat to that and use it as a shield -- "See, You can't be mad at me for my failings, Sir... I am too broken and stupid and worthless for you to be able to expect anything more." Yup. Sometimes being powerless is a powerful thing.

Being hurt and being wounded and being broken keeps us focused on ourselves. If I intend to serve Him, I need to focus on Him. I need to listen to Him. I need to attend to Him. I need to continually check to see if my thinking and my acting in the world are aligned with His. That is the key to living up to His expectations. I don't have a whole lot of rules or guidelines, and I do have a whole lot of personal leeway as to how I conduct myself in the world. I leave each morning and go off to work, and what I do in that context is entirely up to me. Some might look at all that "freedom," and declare that I am, in fact, not a "true" slave. If that is your view, I understand. For me however, over time, I've acquired an internal touchpoint that allows me to continually check my actions and choices against my perceptions of what Master would want, or what Master would do. I am almost never "on my own." He is at the center of everything that happens in my world. That becomes the compass that guides me through my days.

Writing here has helped me with all of that. Putting my worries and my wonderings and my confusions here, along with my joys and my successes helps me keep it all sorted out. Having the long term record of my thinking and my growth helps too. Sometimes, when things get rocky, I can come to feel that it is a waste of time, that everything I've ever written is just so much bullshit -- a giant pile of lies. Too, being exposed here is sometimes very difficult... readers in this place have seen me soar, but also crash in flames. It doesn't matter. This was His idea in the beginning. It remains His directive that I write here. There are no hard and fast requirements as to how often I should write, and He doesn't usually direct the subject of my discussions. However, on those occasions when I get frustrated with the whole business and declare that I hate this blog and want to just delete the whole thing, He makes it clear to whom the place really belongs...

Too often, the assumption is that a slave has no independent thoughts, no reactions or responses to things that happen. If that does happen for some people, I have not achieved the level of accomplishment that allows me to simply say, "Yes, Sir," without any reaction. There are times when Master's take on things seems just ridiculous to me, or mean, or flat stupid. That's when, if you could peer into my shower, you would find me in there with the water running full force, muttering and sputtering and shaking my fist at the unfairness of it all. Thank goodness for indoor plumbing and running water. That shower saves my ass -- literally.

So, no. Far, far from perfect. Better than I was seven years ago, I hope. Better, day to day, as I learn and grow and mature. It is embarrassing to admit to the failings, to have the flaws and broken places be seen. But the broken places are mine too, and so they are His. I am not a "finished" piece of work. Our relationship is not done -- we are still growing; still pursuing the dream we share. I hope there are things that I share that help others as they walk their own paths. If that can happen, and most believe that I've done that with some integrity, then it will be good enough for me, and hopefully, good enough for Master.

swan