Friday, July 2, 2010

Just a moody bitch

“What is up with you?”

“Nothing major, just been in a bit of a funk… just moody bitch. I am fine.”

He stares at me, his eyes narrowed. “I’ve been worried about you.”

My eyes waver… this breakfast time grilling has been getting to be a pain in the ass lately. I know I have not been in control of myself as much lately. I have been distant, loose, irritable, not particularly horny. I’ve been bucking and fighting the leash lately. Even pain has not been welcome. And last night, when he could not get much of a rise out of me… just monosyllabic mmm hmms and mmm mmms to his questions, he tried to spank me, grabbing me on the couch, lifting my legs up into my most hated position. All he got was a flash of rebellious anger. I fought him hard, resisting and he could tell from my grim angry expressions he was getting nowhere fast. I was not laughing or moaning… I was not even crying out in pain… all he was getting is snarls. He did not persist and perhaps it was a wise choice. It is fun to fantasize about being forced, being broken down, but I think I would have just lost it. He ended up letting me go and to his surprise I marched downstairs and stripped and threw myself face down on his bed.

He stood there and finally asked, “Why are you doing that?”

And I growled out between clenched teeth, “If you want to hit me, I prefer it this way… not on that fucking couch.”

He beat me for a while but then he stopped and began to rub my feet and legs, exploring for pressure points. And I almost instantly melted… we talked for a while… and it was all going good but the sadist in Master cannot resist the opportunity to strike and stir up a calm, relaxed target and just as we are about to move on to dinner he hit me… hard with the heavy leather strap, hard enough to lift me right up off the bed in shock and outrage. All the fight and anger bubbled back up to the top once more. I cry out, “Why do you have to do that? I was just starting to feel good.” He just laughed and hit me one more time to prove he could.

The rest of the evening I was still quiet, still distant, still irritable. We ended up going for a walk and I did not talk much. Master talked and talked about his work, this lock here, that fire alarm thing there… but I have to confess I did not listen that carefully. I was lost all up inside my head, wondering why I was not enjoying it so much. I do know I am not trying all that hard and I got to thinking about that, how I had written in my journal about six months ago that I had to “Master” myself… that he was not going to do it and my submission had to come from within…

Excerpted from my journal 10/09
Mastering myself… the phrase keeps coming up in my thoughts.

I remember how I had used the metaphor that the ropes I feel binding me feel too loose, that I must move carefully, even hold them trapped against my body to feel them, to keep them from slipping away. And I know this is true, that he is not sure about this and his lack of confidence stems from his fear that if he asks too much, pushes too hard, strikes too cruelly he will somehow damage it, lose it, and with it, lose this sense of ownership that he is becoming accustomed to, addicted to. I find myself reassuring him, praising his tentative assertions over me, gently encouraging him that I am not fragile, that I can bear the weight of his ownership.

So I cannot rebel, I cannot protest, I cannot indulge in even a moment of doubt. I must show only strength and determined submission. I cannot shirk a single duty, disobey a single directive. I can only show a slave’s face and a slave’s heart to my Master, a slave spirit that glories in every gesture of assertion, every nuance of control. I must Master myself.

I must create my own set of chains, bind myself to him. He is not going to “force” me. I have to shackle my own heart and lay it at his feet. He is not going to hold the key or keep me captive. I can throw off the chains at any time. He will be my owner only if I keep making the choice to be his property. And if I chose to free myself, to untangle myself from this web of my own making, I do not know if either of us could survive. We each have tasted this intoxicating thing, the exchange of power. I am not sure I could survive without it, without being owned by him.

…That was six months ago, and lately I think I need him to step up more… I am not sure exactly what I want him to do… but I want him to do something. And I sure as hell don’t feel like Mastering myself right now.

And he has been doing more, stepping into the vacuum of me pulling back, taking more control. He is more confident. He knows now that it is durable and lasting and that he cannot lose it by doing too much. And mostly I am very happy with that (and I ought to be fucking ecstatic… and perhaps I will be tomorrow or the next day), but there are these low points, moments of depression and less than stellar attitude. I mean I do it, I do obey, I do all assigned tasks promptly and thoroughly… it just does not feel fulfilling. And when I finish I don’t have this sense of accomplishment. I am busy all day and in the end I have this false sense that I have been spinning my tires all day.

In that last post there was this dumb question, “If you were a crayon what color would you be?” and I must confess saying that I would be the shit brown one… and that is so out of character for me… normally I would be the glow in the dark one with pink sparkles!!! Yay!!! Whoop-de-fucking-do!!! Like I said… shit brown.

And this morning he sat there, interrogating me about my mood. Then he said this thing that totally pissed me off. He said he was going to work on this thing he has been procrastinating about for weeks and months but because I was acting the way I was he was worried and didn't. This is a half done job that sits in the middle of our lives and rubs our noses in our short comings. It pissed me off because he has been finding excuses to avoid doing that for fucking EVAR and how DARE he use me and my temporary moody bitch thing as one more excuse. That was total bullshit. I just sat and stared at him with this horribly pained and angry screwed up forehead, narrowed eyes and squinched up lips, struggling to keep the words inside… and he said “Okay, spit it out.”

I protested that I hated that he used me for an excuse for something he has not been doing. I said it respectfully and he owned that he has been finding all kinds of excuses and but then deftly turned it back onto me, dropping the mention of the undone work and focusing on my mood, grilling me about what I was going to do today. He gave me a couple of assignments.

They were terribly onerous… go to IKEA and walk around the whole store. Oh ouch, ouch, ouch. Buy a knife sharpener, any kind. Buy him a new pillow. (I sort of melted down on that last one… they have wayyyy too many kinds of pillows and I was convinced that I would get the wrong one and get chastised. In my mood I could not even begin to conceive of being verbally berated.) Master kind of boggled and said, “Then don’t buy a pillow.” But once I calmed down I went down and looked at the labels on his old pillow and armed with more information I got a little more confident.

He told me to go to the downtown leather store… (forgets name) but once again I start to freak out… “Downtown???? I hate to drive to down town…. Please could I go to Tandy??? Please, please, please???? It is close to IKEA… I can go to both… pullleeeaaaaasssse?” And because he is controlling and not a total bastard, he said okay.

So I went to IKEA and bought both the knife sharpener and the pillow… and some more wooden hangers and a light and a pillow for me. At Tandy I got a quarter of thick black split… (suede on both sides) and some D-rings, buckles and Chicago screws. I am going to try and make bondage wrist and ankle cuffs and a play collar. (Post script… after working for a day and another trip to Tandy… it is clear I am going to have to learn how to do rivets… the Chicago screws are just too long… crap. Once I get it figured out I will post a “crafty” how make’m post.)

A handful of unfinished rattan canes and a long narrow spanking stick I had ordered off the interwebs came in the mail in the afternoon.

The kitchen table was layered up with loot when he got home. And the first thing he did was force me to my knees, pushing my face clear down to the floor. (mmm... yes Master, step right up... don't take any bullshit from the moody bitch.) And now a day or so later I am doing better... I am in a slightly better mood. At least it felt like I am accomplishing somethings. And we did manage to test out the new spanking sticks. And this time the application did wonders in helping me adjust my attitude.

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