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BloodLuna

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I AM OWNED by the most fabulous TG ever. I am NOT seeking a dominant and won't even respond to one.

What I am: I am a wild but laid back, goth hippie. I am spoiled rotten by my Mistress, but yet we live a very strict lifestyle of 24/7. We're both bisexual and love to play, love to laugh, and love to love.

So I'm looking for a submissive or slave that wants to see where she or he fits in. Someone intelligent and preferably local, and I'll definately consider the right slave for 24/7. Male or female UNDER 45. You must have a photo.

(and yes, I have photos of my owner)

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7/25/2009 9:27:08 AM
I apologize to those who follow my journals that its been so long since my last update.

I found a kick ass website that focuses on cognitive behavorial therapy (interestingly termed by shrinks as CBT - that gave me a laugh)  It's maintained by the australian government and is free and contains diagrams and interactive workbooks and really cool information on generalized anxiety, depression, warped thinking and ACTUAL tools to help change your way of thinking.

I've been journaling alot by hand in a notebook that I carry everywhere with me. 

It's been hard for me to focus on slavery because I am still dealing with my selfish nature.  So one of my coping methods to deal with worry is selfless service.  If I find myself over focusing on a worry I have tried to find something I can do for (or to ) Mistress to take my mind off of it (after doing my CBT in my notebook)

I miss having a slave of my own though.  I really miss the interaction and the different energy.  If I submit well long enough, I will be able to own my own slave again - what a great reward!

7/9/2009 7:35:51 AM

No one knows more than me right now how hard it is to be a slave. I’ve been challenge so much on an emotional level that sometimes I think this whole thing is too hard for me and I just want to give up. Now, having been a Mistress I know on a logical level that the stress of being an Owner is twice as hard. To be in charge of someone else, to be responsible for their care, wellbeing and happiness can be nerve wracking. But I am not a Mistress anymore. I’m a slave now, and wrestling with these horrible feelings about myself, trying to figure out what I need and what I want. 

I’m so emotional sometimes. I’m passionate, erotic, a bit neurotic and prone to wild emotional swings. I wear my heart on my sleeve. To protect myself I developed a need to know my boundaries without any question. I need to know what is going to happen to me. It’s a control thing – I’m discovering that I am a control freak! When I face a situation where I have to give up control of something – especially when I don’t want to do what’s asked of me – I freeze up and get afraid. More frequently, I get angry and lash out. I want to protect myself from this image of loosing my freedom, of losing my own control over my life. Seems really out of place when deep down, even when I hate myself for admitting it, I find that while I could give up being a Mistress for my Mistress, I couldn’t give up my slavery to her. 

I’ve been trying to protect myself my whole life. And it’s starting to become crystal clear to me that I have failed miserably. I know I can’t be held responsible for the abuse I suffered as a child. I know that my mother failed in her duty to protect her child. I know why, and I’m at peace knowing that she did the best she could. There was Andy and the rape when I was 16. So by the time I was 16, I’d been betrayed by the two men I thought I loved the most, Andy and my father. I was lucky with Dominic and the girls, I was in the right place at the right time with the right people and Dominic recognized in me, a child screaming out to be held, loved and protected. And he did so, and often he did so against my will. I was unable to protect myself against Brian or Marty or even my husbands. I can see that now, there was something in me that was too broken to allow me to help myself. 

Now I have the opportunity to let Mistress protect me, to guide me, to keep me safe in her arms, to set me free in her collar. She tells me to relax and let go. But I don’t know how. I know that when I pull away from her, when I lash out in terrified anger that I am trying to protect myself by instinct. But I also know on a logical level that I have no reason to protect myself from her. My Mistress loves me so much that she wants to give me everything I need. Even though she has the right to put herself first, she puts me first – my need to heal, my need to feel safe. No matter how much I tear at myself with self hate and low self esteem, she holds me up as worthy of love and healing.

I know that I am blessed to have, in the moment of my weakness, found a man who loved me so much as a slave, that he wanted to love me as a Master. That he loved me so much that he became a she because she could not make me happy until she was happy. She pushes me to explore the things that are so deep inside me that the darkness of my soul seems frightening, not freeing. She pushes me to face my fears because she wants me to see myself as she sees me, whole and happy.

I think I’m a hard person to love. I am the epitome of Taurus – bull-headed, wildly obstinate. But, (and I just looked up a few definitions of Taurus) and I am realizing there are traits that I was unaware are Taurus in nature. As lovers they are passionate and submissive, giving their all in every encounter with their lover. They love unconditionally and without reserve, sometimes one person after another. Every act is “beautifully placed, with consideration only to your partner’s needs.”

I’ve been protesting for months now that I don’t think I’m a natural slave; that I’m not naturally submissive. Now that I’m studying the meaning of my horoscope, is it possible that I’ve missed something? That submission is my natural state; that I am meant by nature to give everything to my lover, to the owner of my soul? 

I’ve spent so many years creating rules to govern my life, to control the raging bull inside of me for so long that instead of calming the beast, I harried it into a panicked state of instinctive defensiveness, to lash out with the horns and hurt to keep from being hurt. The problem is that I’ve tried to create structure based on a false sense of who I thought I was. The control freak in me saw that the only way to protect me was to be dominant.

She wants to protect me; to love me, to save me from myself. She praises me for even the slightest success. Her intention only to show me that I can move forward, that baby steps are ok. That I’m not the failure I think myself to be. Yet my self-hate is so strong that her constant praise and encouragement doesn’t feel like the positive reinforcement she means it to be, but like she is belittling me for having to battle those feelings in the first place. I know that these feelings come from my own twisted self perception and that these are the things she is trying to teach me to overcome.

I want to overcome them. Deep down inside myself in places I’m afraid to look at I want my Daddi to be proud of me, I want my Mistress to know that I loved her enough to learn to love myself. In the darkest places of my heart I’ve tried to hide all my secret longings from myself and my Mistress. I want to kneel at her feet, to be her precious pet, her darling little girl, her shameless shut. Maybe that’s the key I’m missing. Rather than focusing on the shame of what I think my submission brings on me, I should be finding the freedom in being shame-less. 

She keeps talking about this sense of . . . letting go. If I would just submit completely and let her handle it, then I could stop the raving voices in my head that all scream such horrible things at me about me. 

What I want more than anything is for that feeling that I get when she puts me in my place to last. I want it to take me deep enough that I can feel whole at her feet. I want to show her I’m as strong as she thinks I am, that I can suffer for her; that I can fight for myself. I want to hurt and heal and I want to be happy.

I know in my heart, no matter how hard I fight her that she is taking me in the right direction. Submitting has seemed easier since she’s taken the dominant excuse away from me. I’m discovering that I had no idea how selfish I really am. Mistress always tells me that even vanilla people can say that they strive to make the person they love happy. Serving as a slave is an extreme of that emotion – the ultimate need to make the one you love happy. Yet I spend so much time making myself and her miserable . . . I am humbled by how much she loves me. And I am shamed by how childishly I have responded to it lately. I know that I need to change my perceptions; that I need to see her as my protector – she only wants to protect me, not conquer me. 

I’m tired of the battle. I’m tired of the walls keeping her out and me in. And I am ready to tear them down. I’m ready to turn in my sword at her feet. I am ready to trust that she can tame the battle rage in me, and that this warrior-woman in me can learn to live in peace at her Queen’s feet.


6/21/2009 7:29:56 PM
I haven't been around much to journal.  Friday night we got a torrential downpour that created so much pressure in the storm drain/sewer system that our basement toliet started spewing a gyeser into the basement like Olde Faithful.  The whole basement took 1 inch of water.  Everything not on pallets was ruined.  We're still cleaning!

ICK!

6/14/2009 11:02:35 AM
I am in a calm place for the moment.  I was up around 4 am and went out on the porch to watch the setting Moon and talk to the Goddess. 

And I came to some momentary cathartic realizations.  I don't expect things to be easier just because I gained some realizations, but I do expect things to improve within me because I know that for one moment, I was able to let go and truely listen to myself as I talked to Aphrodite.  (She's been my patron Goddess since 18)

One of my issues I struggle with is Mistress and her smoking.  (cigarettes) She is pre-COPD/emphysema and all ready gets chronic bronchitus.  She's tried many times to quit.  Chantix is a really awesome medication for that.  But each time another crisis hits, she goes back to the cigs.  The last time she stopped the chantix mid run was when I went of some bad medications myself.    I had bad withdrawals from the meds and had bad mood swings and anger moments.  

What if I truely let go, depend on her dominance, her absolute word and guidance, and I loose her to emphysema?  I'd be lost!  What would happen to me? To the kids?  Not  physically, the home I live in is family owned and they would never put us out.  But emotionally?  Could I stand on my own feet, finally able to be owned and without Her?   

We talked about that after I came back to bed after Sol finished his technicolor good morning. 

Between that talk and my musings as the moon set and the sun rose, I've come to understand that my instability, that lack of balance between the Raven (domme) side of me and the lily (submissive) side of me has me unbalanced.  It occured to me that her intentions are to help me find balance, help me to find that place where both sides of me can be strong, healthy and happy.  And balanced.  And when I am, she will be able to focus on letting go of her cigarettes.  Because she'll know that I can stand strong against crisis and still be her girl.

I've also learned other things.  But I'm still processing them.

6/12/2009 6:32:19 AM

Now I am in more of a state of confusion than ever before.

Mistress fell to a tooth absess.  She's been in bed for 2 days rolling around in abject pain.  The dentist gave her antibiotics and codine, which is useless for severe pain.  She's been drinking whiskey to try and dull the pain.  Meanwhile the utility company shut off our gas.  I made a payment arrangement online but because I didn't do it with a customer service company or something it didn't count to the disconnection. 

So now I'm in a position where my Domme side would be so valueable to me.  With her unavailable and myself near panic, how do I cope as a slave with these sorts of crisises? 


6/11/2009 8:20:18 AM
It's been a rough week full of alot of struggle both personally and emotionally.  I'm starting to discover that I have a genuine problem submitting in front of other people. 

As of today, due to my attitude and other problems Mistress has decided that I've lost my right to express my dominant side for the time being.  I'm permitted to continue my search for a slave, but since we have no one at this time to serve us, she's decided now is an excellent opportunity to put me back in basic slave training. 

Man, I thought my kid could throw a tantrum.  Last night was not a pleasant night.

And insult to injury, I had to write the household rules for all slaves including myself.

One of the greatest struggles for me is submitting in front of other people.  Other dominants in particular. 

I struggle with feeling horrifically humiliated at the thought of submitting in front of other dominant people.  Especially people that know me as dominant. 

I think the worst for me though is this fear that I will lose the domme in me that I love so much.  That she'll disappear.  Mistress says to see me with my submissive when I play convinces her that I won't loose it. 

Sorry my thoughts are so jumbled today.  I'm still trying to work through all of this.


6/7/2009 11:13:01 AM
I struggle with myself on a constant basis.  Serving is hard for me, I'm a type A alpha personality who's used to being the Mistress.  I've been in control of my destiny for my entire adult life. 

I often have an arguement with myself about nature versus will. You hear alot of people who do WIIWD talk about a natural slave, a slave who has a submissive nature - s/he wants to please those she serves, she strives to meet all the goals set her.  Her nature is (most of the time) pleasant and agreeable, not arguementative. 

For instance, when asked to "please get me a cup of coffee." my first mental response is "get off your lazy ass and get it yourself".  My first open reaction is usually a noise of irritation.  To my credit I obey, but I do so with extreme reluctance.  I'm constantly wondering what part of being a slave is supposed to make me happy.  How sacrificing my happiness to meet someone elses is supposed to bring me satisfaction.  I suppose it could be base selfishness, I've always been a demanding person.

Mistress (now remember Mistress is Druid, who started as my slave, then my Master, and now my transvestite Mistress) is a good person.  She lives with honor and respect, something very few people do in this world.  She has always treated me fairly, if not sometimes too gently.  She loves me dearly and has suffered my rages, my panic attacks, and my never ending well of fears. 

I think she's a bit lost as to how to handle me.  How do you deal with a slave who swears she wants to be a slave, but doesn't seem to be able to serve. 

Instead I seem locked in this battle with myself - with the dominant side trying to talk me out of being weak enough to kneel and my slave side struggling against the other for just a moment to really know herself.  Add in the dominant side's desperate fear that she'll disappear, that I'll become nothing more than a slave - that I will loose the important part of myself that kept me safe and protected and provided me with years of love and service from wonderful slaves . . . it's been a reciepe for disaster.

But I am nothing if not stubborn.  Leaving my Mistress is not an option for me.  Not living a D/s life is not an option for me.  And reversing roles is not something I truly wish to do deep in my heart. 

I want to be her slave.  I love her enough to want to make this work.  But I struggle with constant irritation and even anger.  I seem to have discovered a latent selfishness in me I didn't know I possessed, a me first attitude that I must have developed over the years of owning slaves.  Mistress doesn't believe in the whole idea of "breaking" a slave.  She wants me whole, complete, and happy and she wants me to do the work willingly.

She says she cannot force my slavery, only enforce it.  But I am not sure the strict adherence to pre set rules and the structure and immediate harsh discipline I may need is something she can do. 

I think that I have to find a way to make the two sides of me - my will and my nature work together.

  The ever present question is how?  If submission is the answer, how do make my will bend? How do I change my nature?


6/7/2009 10:16:10 AM

Part 1
A slave saves my life

2001
I am kept as a prisoner for 3 months by a sick fuck calling himself a dominant.  The abuse is not BDSM, it is broken bones and bruised kidneys and rape and all things we are NOT about in this lifestyle.  When the police came to get me and put him in jail I had 6 broken ribs, a bruised kidney and my jaw had to be wired shut.  I was pregnant with a daughter he was threatening to sell for adoption.   After he went to jail, I met and married

2006
At this point in my life I am in a vanilla marriage with a younger than me man who is immature, who went into our relationship with all the facts.  That I was (at that time) a poly Mistress, both pro and lifestyle.  He told me at the end of the marriage during the divorce that he was hoping I'd "grow out of it". 

I own an alpha slave.  A 300 lb, 6'7" ape of a man who at first was a phenominal slave.  But over the course of a few months he became and emotionally controlling and manipulative.  Eventually he also became emotionally unavailable to me. 

I secured a beta slave.  I met him here on collar me, a switch from indiana.  He was a beautiful goth with long hair and feminine features who enjoyed cross dressing.  He came here to visit for a week to see if he'd like serving me and just never went home.   

Druid (name changed) was a phenominal slave.  He did everything he could to make my life easier.  He served flawlessly.  He was loving and adoring, hard working and tried his best to protect me.  He even tried to help me save my marriage, trying to help my husband learn about himself.  (But you must want to learn to grow) 

I eventually asked my husband to leave.  My alpha slave attempted to break my face with his fist and he was forced to leave. (He attempted to throw himself in front of a semi and I had him committed) 

I was broken.  I lost all sense of confidence in my ability to dominate, to even make a decision.  I was set to release Druid, when he suggested that I let him take control.  As a switch and as a healer he felt he could help me. 

I was suffering panic attacks and seizures, severe depression and a huge loss of total self-confidence at the time.  I was still suffering a huge fear of men because of the abuse I'd suffered years before. 

I chose to free Druid and kneel to his collar.  It had been 10 years since I'd served anyone and 9 years of being a very hard core, lifestyle Mistress. 

Druid saved my life.  I have no doubt suicide would have been in my future.  The first few months weren't too bad.  He worked mostly on my panic attacks and the seizures they triggered, teaching me breathing techniques, meditation, light hypnosis.  Within six months I had control of a panic attack condition that had controled me for 6 years. 

Over the last few years we've been very close.  He's been my friend, my lover, my healer, my ruler.  And sometimes my adversary.  We have a beautiful daughter together )she's 17 months now. 

About a year ago things were awful.

But the last year has been very . . . odd.  I fight my nature and will harder and harder.  My will seems sometimes stronger than my nature.  And Druid made the decision to go from cross dresser to fulltime transvestite and is contemplating TS.  Not only that, but as a switch she likes to be topped.

Trying to balance my switch nature, and her switch nature, and her becoming more female full time, I am struggling with a full plate.

I'm trying to break them down in smaller bites.  I'm hoping that journaling here will help me decide the portions.


6/5/2009 10:39:58 AM

PART 3

MY INTRODUCTION TO BDSM

The next decade of my life built me into what I would become.  At the end of 1994, back in the states, I set myself up as a Professional Dominatrix.  I had good success, my own small dungeon, and a submissive.  I also met a younger man I meant to keep as a fuck toy.  (I was clear about my poly status, he apparently thought I’d outgrow it.) He purposely impregnated me (holes in condoms – it’s not just girls that do it) and.  In 3 years I had a failed poly relationship, 2 kids, a car accident resulting in a 3 day coma and a seizure condition and was living with my husband’s mother, a cult-like catholic who saw me as competition for her man (my husband) Due to the seizures I was having (3-4 a day) I was barely able to care for my children.  I moved to Mississippi with a dominant who was friendly and caring to me.   I left my children with my husband. 

I have faced judgment for this before.  My entire family, my close friend, the judge during my divorce, total strangers.  But I before, I am anything else in this world, am a mother.  After giving my 2 and 3 year olds a bath and having a grand mal seizure on the floor while they were in water, I was utterly convinced that I would not be able to care for 2 young children on my own.  He had a home with his mother, who made good money, they had their own rooms and people to love them.  So I left. 

I spent my 3 months in Mississippi in a weed induced stupor trying to forget my pain.  When my friend and protector Master Christopher took me to a small town doctor he was told to send me home or commit me.  He sent me back to my parents.

Between 1996 and 2001:

I lived with my parents, friends, and spent 3 months in 2000 kept as a prisoner of a sick sociopath calling himself a Dom. (beware of A L T)  It took me 6 months to have him put in prison and in 2001 I gave birth to his daughter.  (He signed all rights away after the trial)

I married again (vanilla, monogamous boy who swore he was ok with my lifestyle) Again younger than myself.  He adopted my daughter, stood by me during the trial, but over the next 3 years became increasingly unable to handle . . .you guessed it . . .poly.  He discovered a latent rage problem and I ended the marriage.  (It took nearly 3 years to get the divorce)

During all this time I maintained my job as a Pro-domme and as a lifestyle Mistress.  I had a few good submissives, and one or two really bad ones.  All in all I loved D/s and hated my vanilla marriage. 

During this marriage (2002-2007) I had a slave boy who physically abused me.  (What else would you call being choked by a 300lbs, 6’7” ape?  Oh, and the time he took a swing and didn’t break my face because I ducked.  He took out paneling, a wall and 2x4 – imagine if that had been my face!)  And a Beta slave I found here on collar me.  This slave saved my life.

End Part 3


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A little note at the end of everything I write:  all my work is copyright. I enjoy sharing my work, my thoughts, my passion.But no part, parcel, text, or photographs may be shared or used without written consent of the author (me) I never mind if my stuff gets used, a good author wants her stuff shared.But my work deserves the credit as mine. T.L.Pendragon




6/5/2009 10:13:28 AM

PART 2.

My life in a poly M/s Household.

Let me tell you, I fought my place tooth and nail for a long time.  Many, many months.  I still lived a double life – that for my vanilla friends and my family back home/at the college. And a second, secret life off campus.   That secret life was the life of a slave.  One of 5 girls.  We were lucky in our Master.  He was fair and generous.  We each spent a night in his bed – taking turns while those waiting their turn choose a sister to sleep with, to love on in the cold night.  We were 5 girls united in our love for each other and in our lives.  We were our own secret sorority, our own little coven.  We shared house chores fairly, helped each other with homework, and except for occasional squabbles, lived and served well and peacefully. 

Well, except for me. I loved my sisters.  I adored my Ada, whom I was passionately in love with.  I liked and even loved my Master.  But I strained at service. 

I do not consider myself a natural slave.  I am a Type A personality.  I am aggressive, assertive, and prone to easy irritation.  I acknowledge that I can even be a bit lazy.  My Master spent months slowly breaking down my emotional barriers, my fears, my outright rebellion.  He paid for countless (BDSM friendly) therapy sessions.  My life was rigidly structured with the strictest punishments.  If my routine interrupted, my rebellion was automatic.  Only my love of my sisters and the desperate fear of losing them should I be kicked out of the House kept me obedient.

My Master discovered a latent ability in me and began to train me as a Dominant.  Newest girl in the household, but within a few months I was his First Girl.  As he held a fascination with Gor, I was permitted to as a Free Woman, see the training of a few slaves in a household run by his close friend, a follower of the Gorean path for nearly 30 years. 

I was a phenomenal Mistress.  But I was egotistical.  I thought I was better than slave girls, or slave males.  I was more than a slave, I was an Alpha Bitch.  I was lucky my sisters loved me so much – I wasn’t aware of my twisted self perception (which I believe comes from years of childhood abuse and self-loathing, some learned from society, some adopted as a protective method)  But I was good at domination.  I had the ability to get into a slave’s mind, to understand the way they thought, the way their mind’s worked.  I had always been gifted with Empathy, now I was able to use it.  I trained one girl exquisitely and as a birthday gift, my Master found me a slave.

Edward (name changed*) was my perfect companion.  He was an exchange student from Australia. He had grown up in a Matriarchal dominated M/s relationship between his Mother and father and had a twin brother Mika. (*) Edward was 22 to my 19 and gorgeous, well educated, and very submissive.  He too had his own room on campus but spent most of my sophomore year at the House with us.  I loved him as much as I loved Ada.  But this one was mine, wholly he belonged to me.  I served my Master better because of this gift.  I loved him for giving me someone to love me.  I served well after I got Edward.

Edward went back to Australia at the end of the school year.  His exchange was for only one year.  The plan was for me to follow him back.  I would be welcomed by his family, married over the summer, given a position in the house second to his esteemed Mother (Whom I absolutely adored)  He graduated early, 4 weeks before my own finals. We spent a night together at the House.  My sisters cooked us the most amazing meal and the Master allowed us to use his master’s bedchamber for the night.  Then I put him on a plane.

The plan was for me to finish my finals and transfer my grades to Sydney U.  Two weeks before finals I got a phone call from Edward’s father.  There had been an accident and plans had changed. I flew to Australia.  I begged Ada to come with me, I couldn’t be away from her.  She (and I cannot blame her now, though I was broken hearted and angry then) stayed at the House with our Master, who uncollared me and sent me to follow my heart.

My Edward, I found out after arriving in Australia had broken his neck in a horrific accident on his way down a dirt road near a ravine, down which his truck went.  In the glove box was a 2 carat engagement ring that he’d been coming home from purchasing.  His Mother was devastated at his loss, and neither Edward’s twin nor his father could help her.  I stayed through the funeral with these people that should have been my family, taking some control over the males and running their household while I got Mother back on her feet and in control again.  It took 3 weeks.  About then I began vomiting.  We soon discovered that I was pregnant – 5 weeks to be exact.  I had gotten pregnant either the night the girls had thrown us his awesome going away dinner or shortly before.

I accepted their invitation to stay.  I would be adopted as Mother’s daughter and her heir.  I would be a Mistress under her and we would raise Edward’s baby with his family.  I asked only to be allowed to go home and get a few things and say good bye to my family.  The family doctor said I shouldn’t travel, that between the stress of all I’d experienced and the pressure in an airplane with how early my pregnancy was could spell disaster.  I insisted.  I had to go home.

I had a miscarriage somewhere over the ocean and spent a week in a London hospital.  I went back to the states, even though Mother wanted me to come back and stay anyway.  I had failed Edward’s family, in my mind. The one thing of him I could have given them, and I lost it. Again, because of my own selfishness. 

end part 2

------------------------------------------------------------------------
a little note at the end of everything I write:  all my work is copyright. I enjoy sharing my work, my thoughts, my passion.But no part, parcel, text, or photographs may be shared or used without written consent of the author (me) I never mind if my stuff gets used, a good author wants her stuff shared.But my work deserves the credit as mine. T.L.Pendragon


6/5/2009 8:36:49 AM

Allow my first entry to be about how I came into BDSM.


PART 1

I was 18 in 1994.  I was date raped at 16 and so arrived at a small, Midwestern private college a man hating lesbian.  (seriously!) I was there a few weeks before meeting a girl I will call Ada.  (I prefer to change names of the past to protect them.)  I fell head over heels with this girl.  I also struggled to maintain 2 lives while in college.  There was one I lived publicly, because it was a small college and I had . . . impressive grand-parentage with connections to the college that I didn’t wish to dishonor.  I dated men, played the coy tease and balanced between being a recently escaped, sheltered daughter spending some time partying as expected of a freshman.  I lived a second, secret life in which I spent most of my nights in the arms of my female lover, Ada.  I went to classes, hoping to become a journalist and someday published writer.  I attended all the appropriate feminist classes and sociology classes, and argued for women’s rights in all the appropriate venues.  I belonged to a pagan society that worshiped women as divine and for a short time served as one of their Priestesses. 

Unknowingly to me Ada was involved in a lifestyle I would come to know as BDSM.  She was 1 of 4 slave girls living off campus in a huge, sprawling Victorian.  She was permitted to keep her small dorm room because she was an exchange student from Romania.  The dorm came with the education.  She used it to do homework, undisturbed from the activities at the House.  I knew on some level that she was a submissive girl, that she preferred me to play the dyke to her femininity.  I was fine with that.  What I also didn’t know was that her owner was in fact a professor at our college.  And I attended one of his classes.  (Shakespearean Literature and Theater) As I was confiding my history to Ada (my history as a child included child abuse at the hands of my father and rape by the son of his boss, whom I was instructed to date) it was being related to her Master, who I will call Master Damien because I haven’t the permission to address his real name.

It was apparently decided that I was lost and needed rescue.  After a few months of listening to my history related to him from Ada, Master Damien called me to his office with the pretense of wishing to discuss a 13 page dissertation I was giving on Midsummer Night’s Dream. 

Now, to set the scene – the college I attended was very small.  It was established in 1880 by a small group of Scottish Monks to train clergy.  There were 3 main educational buildings with a few smaller ones.  The largest was the English and OSB (Other Studies Building - philosophy, literature, history etc) There was the Science Building, and the Arts Building.  The library was at the end of the campus, with the Music building across the street from campus.  In the basement of the English Building an old janitor’s room – built when janitor’s lived 24/7 on campus – had been turned into an office for the head of the English Department.  The janitor in my time there had his own house off campus, as did all the professors. The building was completely renovated before I came to the college and new offices were built, and the dept head got a nice office on a high floor with sunshine streaming into the windows.  The Shakespeare professor actually requested that he be given the basement office.  I imagine the College Board was thrilled to give it to him, he was apparently considered a bit off by others, no doubt because he could understand Olde English. (joke)

So I am 18, I hate men . . . and I am in a service elevator made in probably 1930 – you know, the ones with the metal gate and the up or down button?  Ever been in one?  They shake, they creak, and they sway from side to side.  It opens into a dark, open, dim room lit by old, dusty light bulbs and miles of piping stretch everywhere.  Several boilers thrum so loudly as I walk past them to the office at the very end of the building that I could scream down here and no one would hear me.  It was a Friday.  I wouldn’t be noticed if I’d gone missing until Monday morning.  (Yes, these are the thoughts this particular man hating lesbian occupied herself with – walking in dark rooms, or across a dark campus, clutching her little can of pepper spray and hoping the hooting frat boys stay on their side of the campus.) 

I knock, hear the words “enter”, step into the office and was struck immediately speechless.  The cement floor is laid with a beautiful, scarlet carpet scrolled with gold.  Thick, dark wooden bookshelves line every wall with pretty, leather bound books, with torn paper backs, brightly colored thrift store treasures and yellow manuscripts.  A dark oak desk sat in front of a mural of Victorian French Doors.  This mural was hand painted onto the wall, and gave the impression of a sunset behind glass, framed by lilacs.  I sat down in front of this impressive desk.  Professor D. was dressed in his usual style, a slightly Victorian but still masculine suit (black dress slacks, tight fit, lightly ruffled collar and neckline of a white silk shirt with a nice black jacket and cuff links.  They looked like signets with D.M. on them) I proceeded to tell this man, whose very presence seemed a threat to me, what I thought of Shakespeare and Midsummer Night’s Dream.  (I was addressing Shakespeare as demeaning to women, and that he used blatant sexuality to do so.  Historically, many Shakespearean historians believe it was parody style porn meant to be funny – to poke fun at the then accepted forms of courtship versus the truth of love/sex.)  Needless to say, Professor D. did not approve of my hatred that caused me to diminish the important works of one of the world’s most romantic poets. 

I won’t draw this out much save to say that I found myself against a wall and then on my knees asking forgiveness for my attitude.  I know the great risk he took in doing so, had he not recognized the slave in me, any non-slave girl would have ran screaming and had him arrested.  But, he was a Master and he had knowledge of me through my own lover. 

Master Damien was thoroughly convinced I did not truly hate men.  Only that I had been badly abused at their hands.  He was determined to show me that peace and love and joy at being a woman was available to me.  Ada was my reward – I would be her sister and her top and would be allowed to stay with her. 

End Part 1


a little note at the end of everything I write:  all my work is copyright. I enjoy sharing my work, my thoughts, my passion.But no part, parcel, text, or photographs may be shared or used without written consent of the author (me) I never mind if my stuff gets used, a good author wants her stuff shared.But my work deserves the credit as mine. T.L.Pendragon


6/5/2009 8:35:19 AM
I think a good story – even one that is fact – needs to start at it’s beginning. 

I am a slave in a poly, M/s oriented household.  It wasn’t always this way.  At one time my Mistress was my Master.  And in a time before that he was once my slave.   I am at the moment identifying a switch, part Mistress and part slave, trying to cope with and accept my place in the Wheel of the Goddess.  But for the purpose of my station within the household I serve, I list myself as a slave…a struggling one, but a slave none the less.

I am not a formal girl, although my language use is rather Victorian, I do not use slave speak as in the traditions of Gor (a tradition I pay great respect and honor to, as some of its slave girls have given me the most help in the past.  I cannot be of them, as I serve a transgendered woman) But I transgress. 

 Here I only give as a gift freely, to any who wish to read it, my past, and then the continuing struggle of my current situation.  I only hope that my experiences, my state of mind, and the small victories I win for myself and my Mistress may help others, or at the very least, amuse and entertain.

Please know that small bits of my story may seem amazing to some.  Please know that everything I am writing about happened to me, none of what I say has been fabricated.  My Mistress, who follows the laws of Karma above all, reads and approves everything I write and would beat me for dishonoring her with a lie.
  

6/5/2009 7:23:32 AM

                 Crystal Tears

 

 

An eternal, internal struggle rages....
I wait for the dawn of self-comprehension...
Ever elusive, conflicted reflections....
And my passion is a vampire....
as it feeds on my weaknesses....
nourishment of the soul...
and crystalline drops of tears....
fall like a spring rain....


copyright
 L.Pendragon
1990

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madamerose
 
 Age: 18
 Romania