Sunday, April 27, 2008

The Loneliness of the Long Distance Dommer ...cont.

i did everything he ordered me to do. and more.

i made all my phone calls.
i exercised.
i did one load of laundry.
i practiced.
i even tuned first! (a major task.)
i returned the equipment to the fired cable provider.
i picked up groceries.
i cleaned up my dishes.
i didn't get to clean off the table, though.
it's a never-ending job.
i had a last minute invitation to a party.
i got home very late.
i ran the dishwasher.
and then i embarked on the ritual.

he is so amazing at manipulating my mind, my master. which is why i say he does really own me. i carefully watch the clock, placing my call based on the time on the phone. we both use verizon - hooray for free phone calls! - so i know our times will be synchronized.

i press 2. he is first in my speed dial after the pre-set 1 for emergencies. i press 2, the phone rings, and my brain turns to mush. my voice changes, it becomes higher, it becomes gentler, it becomes much younger, and sometimes it is hard for me to get the words out. my thoughts become vague, my prodigious vocabulary becomes inaccessible, and i feel myself floating away into subspace.

he thinks it's very funny.

we are playing with the idea of branding.
it is play.
but it is very serious.
it is very powerful.
and it catapults me into subspace.

it was very late by the time i performed the ritual last night.
my message with the required photos wasn't posted until 2:40 in the morning.
but i wasn't falling asleep over it.

the room was warm with the glow of 5 red candles in candlesticks, plus a white tea light in a red glass holder. Marko of course was on the bed. i worked hard on the design for the brand, knowing basically what i wanted to do but wanting to get the balance right. not too delicate but not too heavy. strong but artful. i sketched it out first, rejected what i thought would be the final version, and then accepted a second try.

i photographed it under the candles, without flash, to capture the warm glow of the room. i was pleased with the photo i ultimately chose. it is, of course, a little artsy. i will share it only with the philosopher's permission, as i don't know that he would want to reveal his true initials.

writing with the ashes didn't come out so well. but i tried my best.

here is the message i sent with the photos. i have not corrected the typos, which are way worse than what i usually do. i present the message unedited as testimony to the state of my mind.

the philosopher owns my mind.

thank you sir.

it is done.

i hope you liek the brand id esigned. there is seomthing particularly perverted about making a slave design the brand which will be brunt into her own flesh.

i wanted to eb sure my body udnerstaood what was happening. i burnted the paper in a little custard cup, and then held the bottom of the cup to my things, where the brand might go, so i could feel the heat. it was a pwoerful moment.

the rubber band hurt a LOT. especially teh second snap. amde me a little nasueous. but at least by then i was in subspace from the burning.

i did my best to write good kitten with teh ashes, but as you can swee it is utterly illegible, it took a lot of effort to manage what i was able to do. i'm sorry not to have done better.

thank you for the tasks and the ritual. the idea of branding realy is frightening, but part of me years for the chance to demonstrate the depth of my submission.

i sent one more message, with three bonus photos:
- the welts left by the rubber band
- my naked torso with the chain collar falling down between my breasts
- a close-up of my breast, golden like a low-hanging full moon.

when i got home from the party, my orders for today had already been sent. as you can see. my first phone call is due at noon. i'd better get going. i have lots to do.

thank you master.

Subject: Ritual II

Again. . .your usual chores: exercise, cleaning, practice, whatever.


And again: messages at 12 noon, 2:34, 5:17 and 9:45.

And then: "The Tattoo.

You are to dress in your slave shirt, jeans, sock and shoes. . .and the collar.

Nothing else.

You are to go for a walk through your neighborhood. . .and this can be done in the course of doing other chores. You are to find and pick three different colors of flowers. . .bright, spring colors.

When you return home, you will draw a design for a tattoo, on an 8 1/2 by 11 piece of blank white paper. It should consist of the word "Slave" in elaborate script and ornately decorated in several colors. Use magic markers, and decorate the design with the flowers you have picked. Fasten them to the design with tape or glue.

Send me a picture. . .and preserve the original design. I will want to see it.

3 comments:

persephone said...

hey og. i'm really struck by how erotic and compelling your last two posts are. you know, long-distance is not an affliction i'd wish upon any couple, but these tasks and things you're describing are enough to make the situation seem enviable. how sweet to be able to connect like that through so much distance. to be so desperate for him, and to have him hold your desire and your submission, and nurture both, just like a true master ought to... and to do it so effectively from so many miles away.

of course if my wishes could put the two of you happily geographically together, i'd wish it right away. but in reading these last two posts i think i learned that distance can, in some cases, be an extra spark.

Pandora Sox said...

i am happy to have found your blog today. i enjoy how you write and am curious to read all your other posts - which i will do in good time.

i know about the trials and tribulations of a long distance relationship; the sweet pain of longing and the special happiness that every visit brings.

with smiles* and thoughts

x pandora sx

oatmeal girl said...

meg, the philosopher loved your comment. and rightfully so. you understand.

pandora, welcome. and thanks for leaving your calling card!