Sometimes I think the sadist treats me like a little white lab rat. Apply this stimulus, remove this source of pleasure, and then sit back and watch what happens.
I am very malleable.
As he knows.
An endless source of amusement.
A couple of weeks ago, or maybe more, he said I could sleep with his chain (a long, heavy chain from the hardware store) until the date of my punishment. More recently, he allowed me to add the flogger to my bedtime companions.
The chain is cold when I first get into bed. I pull it close to my bare belly and welcome the burning pain of the cold. Some mornings, I would awake to find that I had slept on it, and would delight in the marks left in my flesh by the links.
Yesterday, he told me to remove both items from the bed.
Today, I had to report.
I took the chain out of the bed shortly after he gave the order. It was very hard to do. I had to force myself. It was like when the philosopher would order me to cane the pillow. I couldn't bring myself to do it but in the end, somehow, I would.
The flogger had the bed to itself for a few hours, but shortly before I would have joined it, I took it out from between the sheets.
I nearly cried myself to sleep. One of the cats (I'm not sure which one) knew I was upset and curled up behind my bent knees right after I turned out the light. That probably saved me from crying.
Today, I was driven to distraction. I couldn't stop thinking about my Master, I couldn't stop wanting to e-mail him, to reach out to him, the way Ketzel stands up on her hind legs with her claws in my jeans, the way Marko pats my arm with his paws, both of them begging for attention and reassurance that I love them.
I could not concentrate at all this afternoon. The office was nearly empty, and I bombarded the sadist with one message after another. Which he did not answer.
He is indeed a sadist.
I kept trying to find a way to convey how utterly submissive I felt. I feel. I still don't have the right image or the right action. I am struggling. How low, how small, how debased... what would make it clear that I have yielded everything I am and that all that remains is for him to continue the process of making me into what he desires.
But know this. I do NOT feel devalued. I am his treasure, and my submission is his valued possession. *I* am his valued possession. He makes me feel strong and smart and creative and proud - and the more I submit, the higher I hold my head. An amusing dichotomy, that, but a reassurance I feel you all need.
I'm tired, and feel that I'm not making complete sense. I'm tired and it's bedtime and he denied my request to sleep with the chain again.
I am his little white lab rat, and by the end of tomorrow I will have lost my little white lab rat mind.