i’m going about this all wrong.
i was down in the dungeon this morning, sitting on the floor by my master’s chair, watching cautious Marko eat his breakfast, when i realized i've been going about this all wrong.
i’ve been moaning and groaning and crying and sighing and playing for pity and trying to make him feel guilty.
all together now:
i’ve been a very bad slave.
i’ve been focusing on the hurt of his wanting to break up with me for the fourth time in less than a year and a half, and i’ve forgotten that i am a slave and i have a task. a self-imposed task of supreme submission, surrendering my own obsessive needs to his very real ones.
i OFFERED this silence.
i said i love you so much,
i will give you whatever you need,
short of giving up.
here is the peace you need.
i will demand nothing.
do what you need to do.
so i have to stop this kvetching. i have to undertake this task in a spirit appropriate to a slave, not to mention a woman in love. there are 5 and a half more weeks to go, and i will pass them cheerfully and obediently, in a way that will make you proud.
i offer this post as a ritual. i am writing naked, as you have commanded me to.
i am wearing nothing but the slave chain around my ankle,
those 9 linked paper clips that mark me as yours.
and the choke chain around my neck. pulled tight.
and the little slave kitten earrings.
and the little purple butt plug
inserted with as little lube as i could manage.
i am sitting up naked on the bed, the computer on my lap. i would have liked to be sitting in the dungeon, naked on the floor beside your chair, but there is always the danger that my almost-never-here nearly-ex-housemate will come home and be horrified by her kinky landlady.
so i sit here on the bed
wearing the visual signs of my slavery
and offering my obedience with patience and love.
and with trust.
you own me, John.
you know you do.