i did something really really stupid.
i sent my demon muse something that was really really stupid.
it was so stupid, this e-mail, that i won't share the specifics. though from one perspective it was good. i had been losing my way all week, i was becoming decidedly hypomanic, and was losing control. losing my focus. losing my center.
the demon always sees clear through to the central issues, and he knows how to deal with them. so he taught me a lesson. he ordered me to spend Saturday naked, with his long, heavy chain around my neck. i was to clip it around my neck, wrap it around 3 or 4 times, then loop the loose end through the coils so it hung down between my breasts like a necktie.
and then i was to send him a picture. and a statement that i was rededicating my efforts to his service, at the sacrifice of my own desires.
the main part of my little house is an open area, with big floor-to-ceiling windows that face the street and the back yard. because one of the front vertical blinds is broken, leaving half the window uncovered, being naked all day meant i was confined to the back, bedroom end of the house, with clothed breaks for feeding the cats and myself. and because the day was cold, that meant i spent most of it huddled in the bed, trying to keep warm, trying to write and engaging in certain other activities required by my evil, sadistic, perverted, and very wise mentor.
we have been exploring cages, he and i. not so much real cages (though i suppose you never know), but the idea of cages. what it would mean to be caged, to be confined. as the philosopher knows, this is not a new feature of my fantasies, and i have written of it before, though mostly not here. and i have been writing a series of cage pieces for my teacher, trying to get it just right, trying to hit the image, the concept, that he sees.
the point is that containment helps me. he pushes me to write within more structured forms, noting that the control benefits what i produce. i strain against the bonds of syllables and rhymes and the extra effort makes my naked soul glisten under beads of sweat.
being confined to my room, naked and in chains, made me feel as if i were in a cage. and it brought me down. i became subdued. i became sad. i was pulled back from my mania and into myself, where i found my center, my focus, my devotion, and my regret. i tried to write, without much success. nothing seemed quite what i wanted it to be. i came out with a few unfinished pieces, very frustrated, very subdued, very saddened at not being able to deliver what he required of me.
but i learned.
i wasn't being punished.
i was being taught.
and i learned.
in the end, i regretted having to remove the chain for sleep, but didn't want to risk strangling myself with it during the night. in the end, i removed the chain and put on the crisply white dress shirt that the philosopher gave to me and in which i sleep every night. i put on the shirt, and curled up under the covers with a pair of cats as bookends. feeling as if i were curling up in the back corner of the cage, a small penitent poet, waiting for her owner to gather her up and take his pleasure from her. and this morning, my demon muse knew exactly what to say to bring me back out of my subdued state of mind.
he does know how to control frightfully well. he can put me where he wants me and take me back out when he's done with whatever his goal was. he said the right thing and i walked outside to bring in the Sunday Times and there before me was a poem. a poem of the sort i can show my mother, which was what the assignment for today was. and then he wrote me again and now my cunt is near to exploding and i almost came right here, sitting at the dining room table. i almost came just from his words.
and he may pay me a visit tomorrow morning.
thank you, Sir.
thank you for all you do to make me into what you want me to be.