While i would like to return to my previous screen name, i feel a new beginning must be made. i am not the submissive i used to be, nor is He the Master He used to be.
i am His- but this is not all i am. it cannot be all i am to Him, cannot be all i see myself as. i need to be able to support Him and lift Him up, i need to be able to stand on my own feet as well as to kneel at His.
This blog will be documenting this next stage of my journey.
Starting off, most logically, with a collaring.
i have previously discussed my slave collaring on May 1st, 2009. i'd explained the significance, how much it meant for me to now call somebody Master and to begin my journey as a slave.
i'd thought, at the time, that the collar being locked around my neck symbolised a lifetime commitment.
Somewhere along the way, this seemed to be less and less significant in my mind. Last week, i returned my collar, upset and angry, and did not listen to the advice offered to me. i was not prepared to hold onto something that i felt wasn't holding me back.
i was dragged by my hair and crawled into the spare room. i struggled to remain quiet and to follow orders as my heart beat faster and faster in my temples, as my body trembled underneath me.
i stripped to my underwear at his command, kneeled on the floor.
He explained these things to me. it was just as if i had thought them myself, only in his calm, authorititive voice. He asked me if i would like to be his. Asked if this commitment was something i would not let go of. Told me that once the lock was in place, i would be his until he released me. Until nothing further could be done to salvage the relationship and the dynamic.
The leather of His collar felt strange against my neck and i wondered how i'd ever felt like it was a part of me. As it warmed to my skin, though, it began to feel closer and closer to me. i told Him i understood, that i was His. i thanked my Master for letting me wear His collar and kissed His hands, His feet. The lock was clicked into place.
He gestured over his lap and i stood shakily, fighting the hesitation and terror as i was exposed to him, leaning over him for the first time in weeks.
After the first strike, i was running on instinct. i was following Him, wherever He took me, whatever He said.
He did not go soft. He warmed me up well, until i was struggling and trembling over His lap, until my backside was bright red and burning with the marks from His hands.
i floated into the bedroom, stripped completely, and lay on the bed.
My wrists and ankles were cuffed and tied tightly to the bedposts.
After that, i could not tell you what happened.
He reclaimed me, took me further into subspace than i've ever been, and gave me more of an extreme physical punishment scene than i've ever been able to take.
He then tied my feet above my head and used me, ran His nails over my burning red flesh, dug them into my back, my shoulders.
Everywhere on my body, marks are left from Him. Bite marks, marks from being slapped, pinched, pulled, scratched, caned, spanked, and whipped. Bruises i do not remember being given.
Though i cried from the pain, many tears were shed from happiness. Happiness to have found my place. Happiness at being able to share this part of myself, at being able to give when i thought i could not give any more. Happiness at finding myself again.
Happiness at being able to feel safe with a Master who truly cares for me and about me. Happiness at being His prized possession, at being able to please Him better than anything else.
The happiness of a slave. At last.
