Is it forever yet?

I never knew that five minutes could feel like an eternity but as he kissed all along my body, stamping those little, perfectly placed kisses that I had come to enjoy and bathe in, that is what it felt like...a five minute eternity. He started with his lips at my lips and worked his way down slowly and carefully, to my neck, trailing down to my shoulders, then my bare back, next my hips, and then all the way down until he reached my toes; all the while I lay there with my eyes closed soaking up the zen-like feeling that washes over me whenever he completes this selfless act.  

I said to him, "I think it's been 5 minutes." To which he replied with a small laugh, "You think I was really going to just kiss your body for 5 minutes?" and he continued to cover me with his lips. They felt like tiny butterfly kisses giving me chills. I wanted to be pinched. To know this wasn't a dream. But I knew it wasn't. 

I had asked him to pinch me days ago when we made up. Yes, we made up. I appreciate everyone who wrote me with kind words and bad jokes during the time I needed friends. I hope to return the favor if any of you need it. We didn't make up as much as he forgave me. I am still forgiving myself, it will take time but I am sure it will happen. He forgave me and I was smiling inside. I don't know fully what made him decide I was worth another chance but I am honored. I have promised to be more open and to try harder at making things successful this time.

No lies. No secrets. No boundaries. We are both no longer going to hold back how we feel. Love is not something that should be hidden anyway.

I promised with words what I would do. He signed his contract in blood. As shocking as it initially was it did convey his seriousness about me. 

Blood oaths and the blood brothers concept (which actually started among large groups) was very common in ancient Mediterranean Europe where, for example, whole companies of Greek soldiers would become as one family. A Mistress and her slave are one family as well.

Day 3: Acceptance

Today was a busy day for me. I've been doing more than just laying around. I've cleaned (a little), changed my whips, paddles, and chains hanging rack to a nice coat, purse, and hat rack, spent time with the cat and more importantly I've been out of bed. Still haven't eaten or slept. I'm starting to feel a bit aberrant. Overall, I suppose this is what I would classify as the "Mundane" part of my life that I was trying to get away from...

My friends have been texting me jokes all day to try and cheer me up. They were so cheesy that I couldn't be paid to laugh at them! But it was a valiant effort.

Worst one: What do clouds wear under their clothes? Thunderware!

I talked with the bf more and he is a semi-let down as he was suppose to be here last Friday and still hasn't come down. He keeps "falling asleep" whenever he is suppose to catch the train here. I can tell he doesn't fully understand my feelings in regards to the drama that has unfolded. He wants me to express my feelings but also keeps saying if I want I can always find another slave.

I know the words are that easy, but the action is not. I have no intentions of pursuing other slaves at this time. I obviously need to work on myself first. I need to learn what it means again to own a slave and to fully share my life and all things included in that with someone. It's easy for me to be with the bf because he is so far away, he is passive and unassuming. He never really asks the hard questions and he pretty much listens to whatever I say. He doesn't let his curious nature bud with me and things in my life. But, I want to get to a point where I really mean it when I say "I am open, ask me anything." I really have accepted that the situation is out of my hands now and whatever will happen will happen.

So, I went down to the school today to use the art facilities before they closed for the semester. There were a few straggler, tortured artists left still working on projects. They eyed me as if I were a Russian spy entering their Artist base, but I waved, made some mention of Andy Warhol being a genius and they were off my trail quickly. This was the first time I'd been to the Art room at school. Usually I've got my camera strapped to me and I snicker as I pass by here, seeing them all covered in paint. Happy that my trade doesn't involve such messiness. But today I long to be messy, to have an outward expression of how I am feeling.

I grabbed the tools I was most familiar with: paintbrush, oil paints, paint thinner, newspaper, and a blank canvas. Now, I have a strong passion for the arts. My abilities started out with doodling (my Dad can draw very well), moved to actual drawings, then progressed to painting and somehow that evolved into my Photography. I haven't actually painted in quite some time. Mainly because I am what I like to call a "copy artist". I can paint and draw whatever I see. But I am unable to come up with original ideas on my own. And yes, I know everything is just a version of something else but I mean I never sit down to a blank canvas without some sort of magazine, book, picture clipping, etc.

But today I did.

I prepped the paint and I sat at the canvas for 25 minutes. That's how long it took before I began to sketch and outline....

...and I began to paint.

Day 2: Will I ever be the same?

It's 9am. I type this as my former sleeps in my bed.

He breathes heavily and softly all at once, almost sounding like a soft motor in a car. It seems effortless. You'd almost forget he's hurting. I stare at his face, studying the lines and definitions, that even in the darkness of the room I can still make out from the splashing sunshine thru the door cracks. I want to touch him and be touched by him. When I graze his face lightly with the back of my hand he purrs softly but does not wake. You'd almost forget that he his hurting. I don't want to forget him. I don't want to forget what he looks like so peaceful so I look harder at his closed eyes, his soft lips and beautiful skin. I want to feel him kiss me. Kiss my feet and place those tiny, quick kisses all over my body again...but somehow I am not sure I deserve that ever again. 

He came over because I texted him that I just needed someone. I didn't want to be alone. Not tonight. Not again. And without words he came. I almost thought I was dreaming when he walked thru the door. Surely I did not deserve his kindness. But we talked and still...he was angry. And rightfully so. He said that for now he would be my friend and nothing more.

This is more than I could ask for. He is concerned with my sleeping. This is Day 2 without him, but Day 4 for me with no real sleep. I get 20 minutes here and there but my mind is too busy and my heart is too heavy for slumber to overcome me. He tries everything to help me fall asleep, even holding me close to him; an opportunity I selfishly take to inhale his intoxicating scent. But tonight I do not smell his cologne. I just smell him, it is a bit sweet with his sweat and own body scent. This is the first time I have smelled him and I like this better than the cologne.

I crawled out of bed while he fell asleep. He had a bad dream and called out my name, my actual name not "Mistress" and I awoke him to make sure he was okay. I am assuming it was a bad dream because surely he cannot think well of me...even in his dreams.

After he fell quickly back to sleep I came here...to my addiction. Writing. Typing. It soothes me when nothing else will do. I go by Mistress L. I use to tell people the "L" stood for Lovely. But now I think it stands for something else: Loser, Lame, Liar, Lost... I am not myself. I cannot eat. I cannot sleep. All I do is think and the thoughts are ever consuming. He says that we will just have to see what happens, that good things happen to good people.

But what happens to good people who do bad things? Are they granted deliverance? Or are they eternally scarred, never fully to recover from their shame?

Day 1: Random ramblings

I can quickly see why that horrible current internet phenomenon "Twitter" might be so popular. I definitely have the urge to micro-blog, to get the thoughts swirling around in my head on paper or out into the cyber world. It almost feels like too much for me to collectively go thru. There were more tears last night. And I'm sure there will be for awhile. 


For anyone who knows me personally and reads this I'm sure you will find that shocking; as many of you have never seen me cry, probably never knew I was capable of it haha. But fear not I am human. Despite my best efforts to remain neutral, in control, and always composed...this is me breaking down. I tried to sleep. No success. I was just starting to conquer the chronic insomnia (it actually helped to have my slave fall asleep with me) but last night I took my regular dosage: 6 sleeping pills. I should be happy for the 3 hours of sleep it granted me but really it just pisses me off. They aren't called "Napping Pills" dammit. I want to sleep, sleep and feel numb and tumble into dreamworld where things aren't so fucked up. Where I'm not so fucked up.  


I'm sleeping on just my mattress. I removed the sheets, the blankets, fuck even the pillowcases all because they smell like him. I admittedly have passed his collar several times just to smell the ever fading scent of him. Will I ever smell his cologne again? As I was drifting off last night I could only think of his smile the first time I met him. It was the smile I had come to expect and worry over when it wasn't present. I can only imagine what I've done to his smile... I talked with the bf last night for over 5 hours (sometimes he's a doll like that), running in circles in my head. He listened to me cry, get angry, calm down, talk, cry some more, question my human weakness, it was a vicious cycle. My only thought kept being, Why, why did I do this? It was miscommunication but I am the Queen of saying what's on my mind. I don't know why I didn't express my feelings/fear that my slave might not be taking things seriously to my slave himself!  


I've talked to all my friends, vanilla and bdsm alike and the consensus across the board is I did mess up. But many of them are split on the outcome of the issue. 75% of them think this is something forgivable, 20% think this is unforgivable, 5% think it is based entirely off the two people involved. At least they all forgive me. I wish I could enjoy the comfort in that more. My former seems to think I took pleasure, pride, joy from cheating. I did not. It was only for ONE time (and yes I will keep harping that dammit) and it wasn't what I expected. But the reality of it was stark within moments of playing with the other sub. I feel like the very essence of everything I was had been violated, and I had invited that. 


I can only go as Freudian as my 3 years worth of Psychology will let me and branch out to say I made a secret second profile on Collarme and a second blog here because on some level I wanted to get caught. I wanted to be found out. Many people I know tell me I have a flawless personality. Yes I have actually heard these words several times. It's unnerving. It's nearly heart stopping to hear that people think you don't have flaws. The pressure of that statement alone is enough to make you want to spit in their face. I am flawless. I am full of flaws. I cuss at my Mom, I pee with the door open, I snore, I can be a royal bitch when I'm hungry, I always think I'm right, I can be too logical, etc etc. I am riddled with flaws. Just like you, or her, or him, or anyone else. It's the beauty and tragedy of being human...
 

"He who is devoid of the power to forgive, is deviod of the power to love." -Martin Luther King, Jr.

Shattered dreams

Tears obscure my vision as I type these words.

I've been bawling for hours now and I'm just about all out of tears.

I have fucked up.

I have taken the main component of every functioning relationship (BDSM or vanilla), trust, and I have smashed it to bits.

I cheated on my slave.

Yes technically it's cheating because he didn't agree to enter a relationship with me that involved another slave, just the bf.

For those of you who think this entry might be too "vanilla" and too "dramatic" please kindly fuck off and hit the red x in the top right corner of your screen.

For those of you who care to read on it's as simple as any other mistake.

I fucked up.

Despite all my reasons, all my efforts, all my lame excuses it happened.

I am not happy about it. It was only ONE time but it has caused significant damage.

My slave has been trying to get me to come clean for about almost 2 weeks now and I have lied. I've had a hard time looking at myself in the mirror every night, despite what he thinks.

I did/do care about him. I would never do anything to directly hurt him

But in all honesty I didn't think he cared.

I just thought I was another casual Mistress to fill his time with.

I did not think that he cared about me...that he may possibly be in love me.

No, that was not even in the farthest reach of my mind.

I feel like a horrible person. I feel like I should just stand in front of the firing squad and let them have their way with me. Most of all I feel lost. This isn't me.

So, if you don't see me around for a bit it's not because I don't care. It's because I am mending my dignity. It's because I have no more crafty words. It's because I'm facing the music and no one is dancing...

***And if said former slave is reading, I am sorry. I didn't mean to distrust you. You have to understand that once you get fucked over by too many people you stop trusting everyone. We all make mistakes and I hope that someday you can find it in your heart to forgive me and that you understand you didn't do anything to warrant this.****

What's mine is yours???

Owning a slave is much like owning a bike. You don't just loan your bike to anyone. Maybe your sister (after insistent begging), your neighbor and your best friend. I did the latter. I let my friend play with my slave last night. 

She had begged and begged and since I was feeling nice I decided "What the heck?" The evening started off carelessly enough, eating out, light drinking...I was sure that they didn't like each other because they weren't interacting much and my friend being the brass sass she is stated that my slave smelled like he "bathed in his cologne" (it's the scent I often mention that I adore). 

But he brushed her off thankfully. Perhaps he won her over by paying her bill or downing four beers as she would've but by the end of dinner things seemed lighter. We drove back to my place to prepare for the duel Domme session. For all intent purposes my friend is a switch. She claims to be a sub but she enjoys delivering pain almost as much as she enjoys receiving it. That night she was honing in on her dominant side. She asked me if I would blindfold him because his eyes were 'too pretty' to look at while she would be whipping him. A thought I've often had but am slowly but surely getting over.  

I prep/pep talked my slave before anything started. I let him know that he didn't have to do this, there would be no assplay, and that he could use the safety word at any time. But his only response was "I will do this Mistress".  

And so it began...

I tied him to a chair in the bedroom. He sat there blindfolded, God knows what going thru his mind. I told him that he was to show the same respect to my friend as he showed me (he was to refer to her as Queen and me as Mistress), use manners, and again that the safety word was the only thing that could help him. She immediately placed the clothespins I had so absent-mindedly suggested on each of his nipples, his light moan got my blood flowing a bit. I began a combination of biting and kissing all along his thighs as she pinched the clothespins tighter. 

She whipped him in his chest and he said, "Thank you Queen". I tied his feet together at the ankles and began biting his neck as she continued to whip him, further down his body now. After a few moments I told him to stand and then get on all fours. This is when her Domme side really came out. As she took the whip I had given her and begin to what I can only describe as 'punish' his back. I crawled underneath of him and put two more clothespins on his nipples. 

He exerted the moan I loved hear once more. "Thank you Mistress" were his only words. I slid out from under him and took one of the ice cubes we had in the room and began rubbing it on his back where red marks were already starting to appear. I handed my friend the leather paddle I had, in hopes that he would be subjected to less pain but it seemed the paddle gave her more power. She begin paddling his ass beyond a bright rosy red until he had said it was too much. 

She backed off slightly but did not stop.  

Whack!  
Whack!
Whack!
Whack!

Her paddle slaps made a rhythmic almost hypnotizing sound. I broke the cycle by telling my slave to beg for more. When we were finished spanking him I ordered him to the bed. It was there we played with his cock and I clipped a wireless vibrating nipple clamp to his balls. He took to this very well. I had been meaning to shave my slave's chest and this seemed like a good time.


"I am leaving you alone with Queen slave, you are to listen to her" I announced as I left the room I heard a faint almost fearful "Yes Mistress".  

In the bathroom I counted as I got the water, razor and shaving cream ready. I promised myself not to leave my slave alone longer than 120 seconds but as I quickly approved 97 in my head I realized I might have been too late. When I walked him I could hear my slave moan and see his body arching up. My friend was scratching his entire chest area. 

As I came closer, even in the darkly lit room I could see that she had left a trail of where her nails were in his flesh. 

I tried not to focus on it much but whispered in his ear "You know the safety word" to which he nodded. I turned on the razor I had and it made an overly dramatic buzzing sound. My slave flinched...and rightfully so.

"Do you know what this sound is slave?" I asked over the humming.  

"No Mistress" was the most he could muster. I informed him that I would be shaving his chest. I would be shaving a letter "L" into his chest hair to remind him that I owned him. 

Even with my friend still scratching his stomach he remained very still as I shaved him. I sat on him before leaving and ordered him to say 'Thank You' to my friend. When he didn't say it loud enough I slapped him in the face until he did. When I returned after cleaning up the shaving items he was even more red. I wanted to kiss away his pain and so I began kissing his thighs and legs and stomach.  

"You know a slave is like a bicycle" I said to my friend after kissing his legs. 

"You've fucked up my ride," I stated motioning to my slave's chest.  

She giggled and replied," Ah come on, you baby him too much".  

Now my slave laughed with her. "Let's see how you like some pain" I said as I slapped her jean clad ass in an instant with the paddle I held in my hand.  

She squealed, unexpectedly. "And no one said you could laugh" I told my slave as I slapped his bare ass with the same paddle.  

I went back and forth slapping both their asses simultaneously. Her squealing, him moaning. I wondered in my mind if just two asses counted as a "spankfest" but they seemed to enjoy it. Somehow the evening started out with two Dommes and a slave and ended up with one Domme, a slave, and a very vocal sub. I like to think that's not a bad night by most people's standards...but I am not sure how often I will be lending my bike to my heavy-handed friend...not at least until my bike is all healed up.

HNT #4

Yay! More of the girls!

This is them again in their "birthday suit"
Enjoy!

Wednesday Weirdness #56

WW #56
Questions by: ASM

1. If your boss says, "I would like to talk to you about your internet usage" what would your first reaction be? I would think "Fuck! That's what I get for checking my blog so much..."

2. If you SO asks you "Does this make me look fat?" how do you answer? I'd usually respond with a joke, but tell the truth in the end. If only because I would want the truth if I asked.

3. What is one thing that you pay for, but resent having to do so? Rent. It's much more than I'd like to pay but I really love my apartment. *sigh* The eternal struggle continues.

4. A day is being created in honor of you. How should we celebrate it? By getting fucked up and having crazy drunken sex tales...much like some of my past weekends.

5. What CD or Album in your music collection do you secretly enjoy, but would be embarrassed if others heard you grooving to it? Kelly Clarkson. Don't. Even. Ask.

6. How long do you think you would last if you were a contestant on Survivor? I'd like to think long, but in all honesty probably about 2-3 weeks. I often go to my cellphone for help; directions, movie play times, a nasty rash on my leg...hello WebMD, flat tire...howstuffworks.com, bored...text some friends. I am inexplicably a slave to my Blackberry.

Kneepads? Check!

I've been on my knees a lot this weekend. And yes, get your mind in the gutter. This weekend the bf came down from out of state and it was his birthday. Definitely occasion to get on my knees and give him mind-exploding blowjobs (he'd describe it like that if he could speak while getting them). Since I first held a cock in my mouth I knew there would be no going back. Life would not be the same ever again now that I knew what a "blowjob" was. That was when I was 15 and I had several initial questions: -Why don't they call it a suckjob since that's what you're really doing? -What is lockjaw? -Should I touch the balls? -How do I avoid drooling? -What are some techniques for teeth placement? It's funny to think back to a time when I really analyzed blowjobs. But this is how I am. When I find something I enjoy, I try my hardest to perfect it. 

So I practiced often. First on inanimate objects that couldn't give any feedback, good or bad, then I moved on to my boyfriends. Most of them said I was doing fine...but I wanted to be "amazing", "fucking hot", and "don't stop". I quickly learned that the more cock I sucked the better I got at it. And most important I really really enjoyed having a dick in my mouth. In high school I was a cheerleader. I was popular. I had no trouble finding willing suckees. I sucked dicks like lollipops! I often had guys comment on my DSL and it all went uphill from there.  

But I noticed that guys started to get lazy on their end. Men, if a woman is willing to suck your cock (and enjoy it!) then remember these simple three rules: 1. Wash, wash, wash! Clean your cock! We'd rather taste soap than dick cheese 2. Don't put your hand on the back of heads unless asked. We know which direction to go 3. Tell us BEFORE you come! Don't try the "Oops it just happened" crap. It'll be your first and last blowjob guaranteed I guess I'm just saying all and all to this day there's nothing I find more erotic than sucking a nice cock for 25 minutes or more. So that was my present to the bf. If you're reading this...Happy Birthday babe! And Happy Birthday to the other birthdays this weekend also!  

Ctrl+Alt+Del

It seems I've done enough busy blogging and avoiding talking about the issue at hand with my slave. Thanks to everyone who has written inquiries. I'll give you the cliff notes.

The verdict is in: My slave "really really cares"

Or so that's his excuse for invading my privacy. The issue with slave 2 mushroomed into another whole realm of things. Without completely rehashing the events, my slave went thru some things of mine and thru an account on a website I'm a member of because he "really really cares". This was his explanation as to why he was compelled by an invisible force to commit such acts.

Now, anyone who knows me knows that I am a fairly private person. You wanna talk gripes, ask me, you wanna know celeb gossip, I'm the go-to girl, relationship issues, count me in...but when it comes to myself personally; outside of sex....that's where I sorta clam up. I don't mind sharing info about me in bits and pieces over time but I've never been one for long drawn out heartfelt talks. If someone tries to read an email I'm typing I get snippy, too many questions about where I've been and I've been doing and I get defensive. And everyone knows the number one rule of being my friend is:
Don't touch my shit.

But slave was unaware of this. He stated what many past boyfriends have stated. I'm secretive and vague. In all honesty, I am. I like it that way sometimes. It keeps from things interfering with one another.

So he went thru some stuff, accused me of lying, involved some outside friends of mine, and then on top of it all apologized after he sought justification for his actions. First and foremost I don't lie. I've never seen a need to. Unless I'm trying to get out of trouble, oh and little white lies about my friend's new car (it's hideous!), but lying to the magnitude I was accused of...never. It hurt.

But my slave "really really cares"

I keep stating it like that because I don't think caring gives you a right to do the things he did. But, it's been a few days and things in the eye of our storm are settling down. I have been all but forced not to even mention slave 2's name when in my current slave's presence. I have agreed to not even be friends with him anymore. But my slave thinks I don't care. I care.


I care so much that I'm trying to move past this bullshit.
I care so much that I forgive him.
I care so much I have put his happiness before mine.

I don't think a slave could ask for a better Mistress. Past slaves I would've kicked to the curb but I wanted to prove a point. We can grow. Everyone has the ability to at least learn from mistakes and be given a second chance. Whether or not I actually did what I was accused of, this my second chance with my slave. And whether or not I am still royally pissed that he riffed thru my things, this is his second chance.

It almost feels like things can go back to the way they were...
But almost only counts in horseshoe and hand grenades so we'll see.