Everyday. Everyday. Every mother-fucking DAY!
I don't want to put up pictures today. I don't want to have to deal with it. I just started my moon and I just want to put the pizza in the oven and veg out until I go to sleep. But he said "everyday" so... pictures.

Grr.
Begrudgingly.
I can obey through gritted teeth... hating you, cursing you.

Why? Why, why, why?
Why do I obey? Why do I fucking fight? Even if just in my head?

Today I feel afraid to upload pictures. I don't quite understand why. It's been rolling around in my head all day.... delete a few pictures, upload a few pictures, write journal entry... no biggie, really. But it HAS been a "biggie" today.
I've been rationalizing with myself, playing devil's advocate with myself, trying to ask myself the hard and sharp-edged questions that I don't like answering... they're just pictures, right? Right.

But it still feels vulnerable.

Highest heels, squatting, pissing.

This is the one that I tried to tell myself that I WOULD do yesterday but ended up not doing. So, I made myself do it today. (I had to have a shot of vodka to do it, but whatever.) It is a horrible picture quality, but it's what I got.

(I also uploaded the nipples with clothespins from yesterday.)

How do I feel?
Irritated. At me.
I get all pissed off at myself and then I want to yell at all of you reading here, looking at my photos -- what the hell is so arousing about this??

I don't understand why it is that I get angry.

Some part of me says: I could just tell him "I don't want to do this anymore," and he would likely say "Okay" or something equivalent. I know that all I have to do, really, is say that I am really done and that will be it.
But I don't.
Instead, I take the fucking pictures and write the stupid journal entry and stay angry... at just about nothing.

Why does it feel like I would feel disappointed if I were to actually say, "I don't want to do this anymore?"

Am I getting any kind of arousal out of this? Well, the compliments in the emails don't harm my self-esteem. (The derogatory terms and whatnot are getting kind of old and irritating; I almost let myself go off on some "Dom" in email today, but I stopped myself.) But, sexual arousal? No. Not really. I don't masturbate to this stuff or anything.
But, not everything in BDSM has to do with sex. True, but he said, specifically, that I had to admit any arousal, so it was a valid self-query.

The question that the deep dark part of me asks is: When you deleted pictures to upload new ones, why did you keep the pissed pants one?
Because it was a big deal to me. It was hard to do and hard to put up on the internet, but... somehow... now it is, kind of, some sort of trophy, or something. It's like... it is almost as if I am actually proud of it... or something. Strange.

Tuesday.

I feel... dirty.
I know that after work I have plans to get my pedicure (in preparation for the weekend's costumes) and then I'll go home to take some pictures... upload them... write the journal entry. And there's this part of me that feels... upset?, sick to my stomach.... dirty.

On the one hand, when I'm alone in my mind, in the dark with no one there, I can find some of these things... almost... arousing. Or, maybe even doing some of these things for someone in particular, and sending the picture(s) to them, specifically. But, putting the pictures up for all of the internet to see?... I don't know why, but it has me unsettled. Maybe that's why I've chosen the "easy" ones.

The question rolling around in my head is this: Am I pushing myself to shed old habits, old fears, old persona... pushing myself do do it anyway, to break through that wall... or am I push myself to break my own boundaries? (I have to figure out which supplied answer is supplied simply out of fear... of change. Which is more true. And what action, what steps down what path, do I want to take.)

There's a part of me that is almost looking forward to actually doing some of the requests. It's like a rush, just thinking about it. (That is kind of weird to me.) But there's another part of me that shrinks away from that idea and "doesn't want to"... why? Because "people will see me".

I do tend to fight more when I am exposed, vulnerable, when it is more of an intimate form of intrusion. It's like the more vulnerable the bits are that are exposed (be they physical parts of my body or emotional/mental parts of my mind/heart), the more my inner Femi-Nazi wants to rip people's heads off and "FIGHT!" and completely deny that part of me that is Slave.

Why am I so afraid to be myself? Why am I so afraid to accept that I am a Slave? Why am I so afraid to allow myself to feel aroused by the powerlessness of the situation (or any other part of the situation)? Why am I so afraid of the darker parts of me? (Because I'm afraid that I'll, somehow, loose myself, my identity, if I let those parts of me live "too much" in me. If that makes sense.)

Why is it so  hard for me to just accept myself... and let the opinions of others be damned... ??

Why is it that I so desperately (if not kind of secretly) seek a male's approval of my thoughts, actions, answers, motives, opinions, desires.... everything?
And what is it in me that seems to be utterly disgusted with that part of myself?

Full-frontal-nude and closepinned pussy.
Photo Quota Reached (14)

I feel dizzy.
The whole drive home I felt sick to my stomach with nerves. Actually, once it hit 5pm and I was left alone at my desk to contemplate what my plans were for 30 minutes, that's when my guts started churning. I knew that I was going to go home and MAKE myself do the difficult requests.

Unfortunately, I have disappointed myself and not done the difficult request that I intended to do -- that will have to wait until tomorrow; right now, I've pushed myself as far as I can for one day.

The full-frontal-nude picture is... well, I'm just aware of my plumpness and it's frustrating to have to share that (along WITH my face) to the rest of the world. But it was a request and I was trying to start pushing myself with smaller pushes. (Or something.)

The clothespins on nipples [not shown] wasn't too difficult although it did hurt a might bit more than I expected it to. Which got me worried about the clothespins on pussy picture I had also decided to do.

OMG, that hurt!! I was sitting on the floor and whining to myself yet still adding more clips. It hurt. A lot! But he wanted it to be covered in clips and all "open"... I couldn't really do both "open" and "covered" because of my anatomy, but I did my best. I had to take four pictures to try and get one at a good angle. (Had to?) And, OH My GAWD, it hurt taking them off!!

I feel dizzy.
Before the clips I was seriously hating myself. Now... now I just feel... strange. Spacey? Maybe a little bit spacey.

Why do I do this? That is the question I want to answer by MAKING myself do this. Some of these requests are... weird. Some of them make me want to smack the requester (maybe those are the ones I should do?). Some of the requests aren't really possible because it would involve another person.

I can't keep choosing the "easy" ones. I won't. (Or, at least, I'm going to try and MAKE me do the more difficult requests... starting now.) "No point in making the trip if you're going to miss the journey."

"I hate you" keeps repeating in my head. The thing is... I'm not sure who "you" is - is it me? is it my Mentor? is it all of you freaks who keep sending in the requests? (Right now, it's mostly me; strangely.)

I feel so shakey and dizzy. I have to admit it feels a little bit like sub space, kind of. But is that even possible? (And if it is possible, do I want to admit that to myself?)

"dumb bitch" on forehead & "worthless whore" on chest.

BONUS: New hair!

I figured that since I'm writing "dumb bitch" on my forehead, I might as well spell it incorrectly. And since I'm writing "worthless" on my chest, why not spell it incorrectly as well.... to prove my worthlessness.

It is strange how my smart-ass attitude is still here.

Life has been crazy and I don't have much to say about this picture. I think it's funny the things that are being requested to be written on me.

It is strange to be hanging out at a friend's house after work and then I find myself getting more and more antsy to get home... because I know I need to get to the list of emails and take a picture and upload it and then write a journal about it. I'm always aware and always trying to plan time to be able to complete the task. It is interesting.

Tomorrow I'm getting up super early because I'm supposed to meet up with the girls to start the Homecoming drinking at like 8am, so I have to get up EARLIER to take the pictures to upload here. I'll be too drunk to do it tomorrow night.

"cheap sleazy whore clown" with "WHORE" on forehead.

I think I'm really starting to have fun with this.

It was a very long, very stressful day at the office so that's it for today. I'll make up for it tomorrow.

Hairbrush in ass & "Worthless Slut" on breasts.

How do I feel?

Well, I'll admit right off the bat that inserting that brush handle into my ass was just a tad bit arousing. It's been a year -- holy shitballs! It has now been just over a year (Damn!) -- since I've had anal sex. So, naturally, anything phallus-shaped inserted is going to be arousing. To some degree.

Other than that and my starting to get a kick out of writing stuff on my tits, I don't really feel much. 

I wonder if this lackluster feeling will wear off. I wonder if it has anything to do with the weather (it's been cloudy and rainy and cold lately) or my cycle. I wonder if, as the days pass, I'll feel nervous or excited or anxious again. I don't necessarily want to feel nervous/excited/anxious, but I just wonder. Taking the photos today, feeling like it was a chore that I didn't really mind doing but didn't really want to spend my time and energy doing... that was weird.

I also wonder... why "worthless"? Is that a part of humiliation? If so, I don't think I understand. I just don't get the arousal of trying to negatively affect someone's self-esteem.

Since this is about objectification and humiliation, I put a close-up photo up. I don't like it but I figure that maybe it's just scary enough to scare some of YOU freaks so.... Boo!... Happy Halloween!

It's not about a picture; it's a curiosity...

Going through the email messages, one by one, deleting those that are asking to own me or anything else that isn't a request, making note of the ones I cannot fulfill now (because I have to buy something, like hot dogs; or something), and making a list of the ones I will attempt do tomorrow before work... I am quite amazed to find that there are quite a few people who are warning me or degrading me or something along those lines.

While the degrading is possibly just you D-types (or Kinksters) playing along to the purpose of this profile [in which case I'd like to curse you out but should probably be grateful for helping my Bastard with this... lesson], but why the warnings?

It is what happened the last time... when they found out about the extreme lessons. They were worried and told me he was "unsafe". It caused me to wonder and doubt my feelings, my decision, my gut instinct - which is, to trust this man who has spent 10 YEARS earning my trust by NOT ONCE breaking my trust. Ever.

In the end, they were wrong. I saw where they were worried and how their misplaced concern for me colored their opinion. I saw how my sharing with them some of my difficulty or fear or confusion or frustrated anger (when in the heat of a difficult lesson or learning curve, or when breaking down a particularly difficult internal wall) caused their concern. And so I've stopped sharing what I go through on this journey into my slavehood with people I know.

But it strikes me as funny that I would get some of the same messages here - on CollarMe. I suppose there really are all types everywhere; good people in the least-expected places and not-so-good people where you thought only the best humans would be.

I responded to one email of concern today; all the rest I ignored. I don't know what made me respond but what I said, it started to sink in as I was responding... and it made me realize a few things.

I am making a choice to walk this journey, each step is a choice I make. I am not a victim in this. I am not a mindless twat who would just do whatever I'm told (no matter WHO told me to do it) without taking all aspects of the thing into consideration and then consciously and mindfully agreeing to it. Sure, I hate him (and myself) in turns, but that is part of the process.

This is part of a journey, a path of self-discovery and self-awareness. To be sure, it is raunchy and taboo and "bad" in many ways... but it is my journey into my soul. Not all others have to understand one's journey into their own soul - especially not the darker parts. If you don't like it, or don't understand it, you are free to turn your face away from this profile.

Left breast bound with braid.

Maybe this one is one of "the easy ones" but it was still requested.

I love my boobs and I love my hair so, naturally, I love this photo and am completely comfortable sharing this one.

It makes me wish for my hair to be as long as it once was... in 2009, before the break-up, before I chopped my hair all off. I would have had a longer braid to wrap around; it might have actually gone all the way around. Back when one braid down my back was long enough to wrap around my throat 1 1/2 times.

I am grateful for the request. It was nice to upload this after the last two (which were difficult to put up and seriously triggered my adrenaline - ugh!).

I don't understand quite why it is that I seem to be perfectly okay with posting pictures of my breasts - with anything written on them, or not, or multiple different things happening to them - and yet I have this gut-churning reaction to posting pictures of my pussy (or, Gawd forbid, my anus).

Is it because I think my breasts are more attractive? Is it because of the more taboo of showing my cunt or asshole to "the whole world"?

It seems like less of an intrusion - putting my breasts on the internet, allowing my Betters to do what they wish with them. But when it comes to my pussy... that is when I feel a whole LOT more vulnerable. And I start to fight, and rebel, and hate it when I make myself obey.

Weird.

Pussy with "FUCKSLUT" & breasts with "ugly cunt".

I’m not sure how I feel.

I just went home from work on my lunch break, stripped naked, wrote on myself, took pictures of my most private parts, and then posted those pictures to the INTERNET. Why? Because he said so.

Well, really because he said to obey any request and those where the next requests in the list and… well… so he, essentially, ordered it to be done.

It felt like a moment outside myself... kind of.
I just walked out of the office, drove home, did it, drove back to work, and here I am sitting at my desk again.

I feel mostly surreal. (Is that a feeling?)

This morning, before lunch, I felt anxious and tense and nervous and angry. As I drove home I felt disgust welling inside me – disgust at myself for knowing that I was on my way home to take a picture of my pussy and my breasts and post them to the internet. It’s the pussy picture that really gets my guts in knots… and the words.

I feel disappointed in myself, in a way... almost like I let myself down, somehow. There’s a part of me that keeps saying that I "should fight more"... especially when it comes to pictures that I don’t LIKE having on the internet. There’s a logical part of me that seems to be looking at it in a slightly-removed way. (I wonder if it’s my emotional side wanting to flip out and getting upset that I’m not reacting as much as I "should" vs. my logical side which is rather calm and just matter-of-factly accepting of the situation.)

It’s weird to feel a part of me berating me for "being weak", yelling at me, feeling SO disgusted with myself... and yet, I still put the pictures up.

It’s kind of weird how there is the fight... and the fight wants to be there... but it’s not holding me back like it did before. I’m still obeying.

Now that it’s done I just feel... nothing. Or, maybe I’m just making myself ignore the feelings because it’s just too much. (I wanted to cry so badly last night... and this morning... and this afternoon... but it just won’t happen, I keep "turning off.")

I’m not sure how I feel.

I keep repeating to myself: "Do you want to dis-honor your nature and refuse? Or do you honor your nature, even though it is agonizingly hard?"

Somehow, that brings a calmness over me that I like.

I still hate you but... somehow... it's a quieter sort of hate today. A softer kind of acceptance that I'm just going to hate you and that's perfectly okay... for now. A gentle sort of dispassionate understanding that, "Oh, I'll hate you passionately later; for now, I just can't be arsed to hate you quite so fiercely."

I wonder if the rain has anything to do with it.

Piss.

I fucking HATE you!!

I'm not sure who I hate more - the guy who made the suggestion, me for stating "I'm NOT gonna do that", or you for making me do it anyway. (Or, me for doing it.)

I have piss on my fucking kitchen floor!! And my feet!

God! I just want to shower... and wash everything!!.... and cry.

Why cry? I don't understand that part. I just feel... degraded? Maybe that's the word. Well, it sucks! It feels vulnerable. And I hate it!

There's a part of me, deep inside, that keeps whispering soothingly how it's okay and reassuring me, "It's the Bastard... it's okay... you won't fall... you never fall with him."

I can't believe that I actually stood there and pissed my pants. I can't believe that I took THREE pictures, to get one that was "good enough". I can't believe that I put a picture of me pissing my pants, with a pool of fucking piss at my feet, on the INTERNET!

I feel, kind of... awful. Weird and alone and numb. It's like "too much" and the dissociation. I'm not sure how I feel now. I don't like that picture at all!

I can't really think much more so that's it.

The first two pictures.

Conflicting emotions. Mostly hate... but also love.

How do I feel? Irritated. Angry. Indignant. Exposed. Vulnerable. 

I don't like being degraded to just a piece of flesh. I am so much more than just my flesh. I am terrified of the requests because if there's one thing I've learned on this journey it is that men can think of WAY more evil things than I can.

I hate the fact that I created this profile AND put up pictures. Even more than that, I hate the fact that I know I'm going to fucking obey... any request that I can't find a good enough reason not to obey.

I hate the fact that you can make me do ANY fucking THING you want just by saying, "Do you have a choice?"

I hate the fact that I'll always obey.

But, really... I don't think I hate any of that at all. It's just on the surface. That fight. I do really want to punch you (or, at least, scream and rage) and my inner femi-nazi is forever concocting ways to kill you... but I think there's some tiny part of me, deep down, some part that I haven't really ever looked at or paid attention to in a long LONG time, that might not hate you at all, that might just love you for being SUCH a bastard.

But right now, this very moment, there's a whole lot of hate in here.

The picture of just my boobs is my favorite picture of my boobs.