MasochistToy


masoch1955 Male Submissive, 48, San Francisco, California	masochisttoile Male Submissive, 45, bloomsbury, New Jersey	masochisthouse Male Submissive, 56, BC

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	About MasochistToy Owned by my husband/Daddy. He is very open to having me used, but respect of his ownership is required. All conversations will be handled through him. His contact information will be supplied if requested.

Nothing really clever or catchy to say tonight. No twists of devilish prose. Ok, I lied. That was a little twist right there.

What we all are looking for is recognition. The acknowledgement of our own uniqueness. We want the other to see something special within us and desire that quality. In our quest as humans we wish only to be known, understood, and appreciated for ourselves.

For those of us with a decidedly sexual, sensual, sadistic, masochistic bent we think we are laying it all out there. Being extra honest with each other "upfront". But that is a lie. Because even in our honesty we are hiding pieces of ourselves. We no more want to be easily understood than we want to eat soap. And anyone out there who likes to eat soap, yuck!! Please Daddy no soap.

It is the desire to have someone uncover our hidden layers, and expose the fragility, the strength, and the wonder that is us.

Today Daddy and I took the children to the Ren Fest. It was the first on I had been to. We had such a good time. I can't wait to get a costume for the next one.
Tonight our girlfriend is coming over. I am hoping it will be a good night. We haven't seen her since last Sunday, and I had thought it was a good day but then her and I didn't talk much all week, so we shall see how tonight goes.
I am hoping to have a change of heart, and feel the same spark I felt in the beginning. I don't want there to be issues between her and I. I truly want to work on this because I care for her very much, and Daddy does too. I also know she cares for both of us. But my resistance is making it hard on everyone. And while they are both being understanding, I also know they both get irritated with me as well. Talk later!

I stayed home from work today. I wasn't feeling well and Daddy allowed me to take the day off to rest. It is gorgeous outside. I took our new puppy Evie outdoors and she loved it. She is a Beagle, and boy is she a biter. Daddy found her out in the country. Someone had just dropped her off, and she is maybe 10 weeks old. Sometimes I just don't understand how anyone can be cruel to the innocent.

Daddy and I have been trying polyamory and I seem to really be struggling with it. We found a girl, who is actually a really good friend of mine. She has a warm, open, caring heart. She is about 10 years younger than me, but I am only in my mid 30's so that isn't a big deal. The thing I am struggling with is the feelings that are blossoming between them. I don't have a problem with the physical stuff as long as it progresses slowly so that we are all comfortable and safe, but the emotional ties are what give me the angst. I did not realize just how much it would bother me that Daddy felt true affection for someone else. He is very good at reassuring me that I am the central, that our relationship is the most important, but i am still struggling with the emotional tie that is forming.
And believe it or not, this girl is much more sexual than I am. She wants sexual contact all the time. It makes me feel like a prude! That is a hard thing to do. So if anyone out there has experience, real experience not the fantasy junk, with poly relationships and can help me to figure out how better to deal with this, because if anyone is right for the two of us she is, please feel free to fire away with the advice!

humbly,
slut

It has been a long while since I have written here, but Daddy wants me to start writing again. He has been gone on business for the past few days, and it is amazing how the person you love constantly can be such an integral part of who you are, to the point where I seem to lose total focus when he is gone for just a few days! I miss him more than anything.
We haven't had phone sex in forever, and I mean years. We have been married six years in January. But on this trip we played like we used to before we got married. Tonight Daddy had me put bengay on my clit and masturbate for him. He didn't let me cum, just wanted to hear me in pain while he was away. It was not the worst pain ever, but it had moments where it was quite firey. I think I enjoyed it. It was warm and tingly, and then hot and almost unbearable, but underneath it all it heated up all of the right spots. Now I can't wait to do it with Daddy watching. Good night everyone!

Today has been a peaceful day. We are getting ready for our first real camping trip of the year and I can't wait. We love to spend the weekends outside, just relaxing by the fire. When it gets dark it is also deliciously wicked to play and not get caught. Even during the day we can play in the pop-up. I just have to be extra quiet, which is a skill I have finally learned. I am not normally a quiet slave.

Different genres of music inspire different reactions. When I listen to cool, smooth jazz I feel relaxed, at ease, cool and sophisticated. When I listen to classic rock I feel natural, uncomplicated, just enjoying the moment. But when I listen to hard, dirty, heavily bass influenced rock I feel dirty, badass, and aroused.
Play Godsmack, Disturbed, Tantric, or any of the other multitude of nasty boy rock and I can feel the heavy bass pulsing through my body. I am ready to tie you up and nip at your body, slap that cute ass and twist your nipples sharply to hear you gasp.
Or else I am ready to be straddled, and have my face royally fucked while your fingers work deep inside of me. Just the sound of a bass drum thumping, it triggers something very basic and animalistic in me. I can feel the adrenalin rush, and I am ready for pretty much anything.

It has been a long and crazy week. Daddy has once again snapped the leash tight. I sometimes get a little wayward if not under strict control. I don't mean to, but it happens. Daddy recognizes this and lowers the boom. The beating might be a little harsher and the strokes a few more each morning. Or, as is the case this week, I must ask for everything. I have had to learn how to be creative with this, as we have children who do not know anything about our lifestyle other than that I defer to Daddy in all things. So, when asking for a cigarette I phrase it like "Do you mind if I have a cigarette" so that it appears I am just concerned with the feelings of others around me. A drink can be more tricky, so I say something like "I think I will go have a drink." If Daddy is not ready for me to get one for myself then he will say something like "Why don't you wait a few moments." And I know this is actually a strict command to wait until he releases me to go get my drink.

Earlier this week Daddy and I went to a small tack shop that is local. We found a little hand stitched quirt, nothing fancy, but Daddy had been looking for one to play with.

When we took it out to the car Daddy tossed it in my lap and I just fingered the rough strips of leather, nothing purposeful going through my head, just random thoughts while we ran home.

Once home Daddy had me strip. I had never been struck with a quirt before, and the rough pieces of leather concerned me. They seemed intimidating. Daddy had me reach my hands up to the top of our bedroom door, spread my legs apart, and he tossed my hair over my left shoulder. I can still feel his fingers on my neck as he brushed my hair out of the way.

I know better than to tense up before being hit. So I took a deep breath and relaxed my back. Daddy started out very slowly, and from the first stroke I was in love. It felt like being stroked by rough hands up and down my backside. I have never been hit with anything before that I absolutely enjoyed so much. My skin rippled with shivers of pleasure.

Every stroke was slightly harder than the last, and I kept waiting for the time when it would become unbearable. It got close when Daddy was hitting my bottom, but even then it wasn't unmanageable. I never had a moment when I was abruptly brought back to reality. I was able to slip into the still place in my mind and lose myself.

It has just enough of a bite that it leaves nice marks, and gives just enough pain to be satisfying. But it really was pleasurable. I, being in the middle of the hormonal craziness that is me at that time of the month, was able to enjoy being beaten. It was a revelation! My nipples are getting hard just thinking about it.

Boy am I feeling chatty tonight. I think it must have something to do with the phases of the moon, and hormones. I tend to get most introspective around certain lunar and menstrual cycles. I am past the neurotic stage and now am fully into the "I think that there is something about me that needs fixing" stage.
What needs fixing? Well, I happen to love my job, but I also feel like I would love to do something that had more meaning. Don't groan at the trite phrase. It wouldn't be overused if it wasn't true.
I am a practical person, who changes only when things have been tested and tried and proven to be positive. It is a good thing sometimes, and sometimes, when I am wanting to break out of the rut it is paralyzing. Ok, I am annoying even myself with this line of thought so good night for now.

It has been a confusing time for me. Daddy has been ill, and I have been left to my own devices which causes all kinds of feelings of wanting to be in control again in me. Daddy is struggling with his own issues, which makes me feel even more unmoored.
I am lucky to be married to and loved by my Dominant. I don't really wish to be anything but owned, but sometimes I have these urgings to be in control, and to not be the bitch all the time. It makes things difficult when I am confused like this because I am never sure how to properly behave.
Well, that is not entirely true. I should behave submissively. I should behave as my heart wishes, which is as the bitch, the hearth keeper, the hole. I am only saying that it can be difficult.

Sometimes even the slaviest slave does not want to give in. It is in that moment, when you are wishing you could stay up late, or laze in the tub, or just let the laundry go for a day, that you show true submission. Because I know I am not always ready to go to bed when Daddy is ready, and to go anyhow and not complain, not even make faces or roll my eyes, can be difficult. It is what I am working on.
I love to be up by myself in the evenings, with the house all quiet and everything packed away for the night. That is the time when I can regroup and center myself. But Daddy likes me to go to bed when he goes to bed. He does let me stay up later sometimes, like tonight I am up about an hour past him. But sometimes I just don't want to go to bed.
It is at those times when it is trying to give in, because my desire and my head are all saying, you are an adult, stay up and do what you wish. But I put that all aside so that I can obey. I don't know if I will ever get to the point where I feel the same things as Daddy does, you know, agreeing that going to bed early is wonderful and fantastic (no real sarcasm meant). But I am working on behaving better even when I wish to exert my independence. Because after all, this is about my being owned. And I cannot truly be property if I give in to my infantile whiny little voice in my head. I love, worship, and adore my Daddy. I want to be his completely. And that means putting aside my own desires to please him. Nothing worth having is easy. And as silly as it sounds this is the difficult thing for me. Putting down the book, or turning off the computer. I sure hope that in time, without having to be punished, I am able to get over this silliness. Good night!

I am beginning to crave it. I can feel the need to be used building. It isn't something definable. I will not be able to lable it "use me this way". I only know that I am needing something.

I drifted off to sleep for a little while today and dreamed about slipping my fingers into that warm, slick place that all women love. But not mine. I was daydreaming about making another woman moan. I could taste the salt on my tongue, and feel the slick, slightly ridged flesh. I felt my fingers slip into that heat, and could trace every little line and place until I felt her let go around my fingers, her thighs clenching around my face, her fingers digging into my scalp.

Tonight I will share tale of when I was surprised in the middle of the night before. Shortly after we met the man I call my Uncle, Daddy invited him over late in the evening. I had gone to sleep and was awakened by Daddy whispering in my ear. He said "You know I love you, right?" I said yes, and then noticed a figure in shadows behind him. Daddy said "You will do everything he says. Don't disappoint me." and then he left the room.

I was frightened and excited at the same time. Uncle came over, unzipping his pants, and yanked me by my hair to his crotch. I sucked his cock for a few minutes, not really getting my bearings because I had not completely woken up yet.

He then pushed me back on the bed and slipped his fingers up between his legs. I was embarrassed, but also aroused which was obvious to him by the wetness glistening on his fingers. He forced his fingers deep inside of me and fucked me soundly with his hand. It was delicious and terrifying at the same time. I tried not to make any noises, but I could not completely help myself.

Alot of the time is a blur because I was so hazy from sleep, and my emotions were so frantic. I know I struggled to comply with everything that Uncle wanted. I know that he twisted and pinched my nipples between his finger nails until I was whimpering. He bit my breasts, which I absolutely love, until they were quite bruised. I wore the marks for nearly a week before they began to fade. My nipples were bruised, and my cunt was also bruised from the rough use of his hand. He then craddled me to him and told me I was a good girl. I sobbed silently. I was confused, exhausted, and needed serious comfort. Daddy then came in and Uncle left. It took only 45 minutes, but proved to me quite effectively that even in my sleep I would comply with whatever Daddy wished of me.

When in a bad mood do not take an attitude. This is a lesson I have learned.
I didn't even realize I had an attitude, but it was mentioned by both Daddy and our daughter. I was quiet and subdued on Monday evening. I have occassional bouts with anxiety, and had been vicitim to those over the weekend. I thought I was coming out of it fine, but apparently it was still affecting the way I interacted with my family.
Tuesday morning Daddy adjusted my attitude. He had my lie over the edge of the bed and pulled out the metal cane. I just took a deep breath even writing that down. I absolutely hate this cane, but it is quiet and effective. It only took 2 quick swats to have me actually begging for it to be over, something I never do unless I am under emotional stress. I knew right then and there that I was still being affected by the wayward chemicals that run my brain.
Daddy didn't punish me any further for my lapse in behavior, in fact he wasn't really punishing me. He just recognized that I need to be woken up and shown what I had been doing.
It worked. I felt very needy that day, but by the evening, with Daddy's care and concerned contact throughout the day at work, I snapped out of my funk and have been back to myself.
It is amazing that something as simple as a sharp bit of pain (and I do mean just a bit), can cause a shift in emotions.

Good evening to all.
Where did it all begin? This seems to be a dominant theme right now for many forums on BDSM, so this got me thinking about where my own journey began. I didn't start out this way, at least I don't believe I did. I remember distinctly thinking, several years ago of course, that I was never going to enjoy sex. That being intimate with another human being would never be pleasurable, it would be something to be tolerated. I have since found out that it was not that I didn't enjoy sex or intimacy, but that I did not enjoy it with that particular partner (and that doesn't mean he is horrible or anything, it just means there wasn't anything there between the two of us sexually.) It was unfortunate because I was married to that gentleman at the time.
So anyhow, during that marriage I lived as a very closed off person, only half of myself. When I began to discover who I was underneath the suburban facade I knew I could not continue in the marriage. I am shortening that part of the story here only because it is a typical divorce story. Yes it was very painful. Yes, it caused much heart ache. Seven years later I believe my ex-husband finally realizes it was the right thing, but at the time he became even more controlling than ever which only quickend the inevitiable.
I met a wonderful woman around that time, who became a friend to my family and especially to me. I do not remember exactly what point she shared her interest in BDSM with me, but it was she who introduced me to this life. She was also the first woman I had ever admitted being attracted to, and what a delight that was!
At that point in my life I realized that I had been living my life as a submissive and not enjoying any of the benefits of that position. Well, I set out to change that entirely. I was no longer going to serve anyone. I was a switch, and would pick and choose how I reacted to people. I was not going to be dictated to unless I wanted to be!
As every person who has been new to this life knows, those first few years are terribly confusing. There is no BDSM for Dummies, though there are plenty of dummies in the life. If you are lucky you will find someone honorable to show you the ropes (pun fully intended). If you are like most of us, you will stumble around making a fool of yourself until you are blessed enough to find out where you fit. And if you are truly blessed you will find the person you fit with.
I went to a few public gatherings, discovered public play is not really my thing. I am not an exhibitionist. I am an intimasit (made up that word). I need the mental connection and that just does not happen well for me in public, but that is another whole story.
I found myself still waffling back and forth between submissive and dominant, in large part due to the fact that submissives find me to be fairly dominant if they meet me in public. I also was very hesitant to give control to anyone because I had lacked control of myself in my life since childhood. But I was never truly satisfied when I was in control. I could mentally enjoy the rush of power. I could physically enjoy the rewards of being dominant. But it did not satisfy that deep seated need to belong and be wholly known.
When I was quiet with myself, dwelling in my own thoughts, I would always think about how amazing it would be to be owned. Of course I, just like everyone else romanticized what that would mean. It would mean to be cherished, to be used sexually, to be given orders and not have to make my mind up for myself. And it is all of those things, but it is also jumping up in the middle of a thought to get Daddy a drink. It is also being beaten until you are ready to scream, and do scream. It is also being told what to think about something even when you wish to argue, and holding in that argument until the proper time to discuss it. It is also finding out just how wrong you are about things at times, because your perceptions and knowledge do not always apply to the reality of how you will react to a situation.
So in the beginning there was light, and the light beckoned with it's beautiful brilliance.
In the middle there were gray clouds, and storms, and the beauty was often subdued and showered on.
In the end (but of course there is no real end) there was the light again. And it's beauty and brilliance dazzled. Its reality far outshone the promises of the beginning.
This life is not easy. It is not simple. Just because I am a slave, and yes I am a slave not a submissive or a switch, and I do well at it does not mean that I will always understand why I am required to do what I do. It does not mean that I will always fully understand why I react to things the way I do. It means that I am on a journey, and have been blessed to have my Owner as my guide. I worship him, and devote myself to his well being. Any improvement I make in myself is done so that he will reap the rewards. And because of this I have found who I am, and who I want to be.

I attempt not to rant or throw temper tantrums in this space, but tonight I will toss my voice in on a common theme. Why is it that when you speak with someone, respectfully, they behave like a spoiled child? Nothing gets that old aggression in me going quite as much as a person who behaves like a child. I am not talking the good, fun, misbehave because you are playing a game to get some fun. I am talking the whiny, snotty nosed, hang you up and forget about you for 2 or 3 days child.

Do not think that behaving badly is going to elicit some sort of attention from me. As I have mentioned previously, I spent a great many years as a dominant and I have learned a thing or two about attention seekers. You will be ignored, treated as if you do not exist.

On a lighter subject, yummy is all I have to say about Daddy today. His delightfully twisted sense of humor led him to play mind games that left me trying to decide if I wanted to strangle him or jump him. He allowed me a chance to express my feral nature today, and the beast wells up again.

It is nearly bedtime and I finally feel I am able to discuss the events of last night.
Daddy and I met a new friend last night. We met in a public place, a local bar. Daddy had me dress the way he wished, and I have to admit that I looked nice. But I also looked quite slutty. My blouse did not so much cover my breasts as it did display them. I wore a simple black skirt, very nice and floaty fabric, thigh highs, heels, my long hair down swishing at the small of my back. I do not normally wear anything as revealing as the blouse I wore in public, so that had me a little nervous.
We arrived at the bar and Daddy wandered around a bit until he settled on a table, which had the side effect of every person in the bar seeing how I was dressed. The friend arrived about 15 mins later. He was a pleasant looking person, and we had spoken on the telephone a few times and chatted via emails as well. Daddy had sent him some pictures of me in various states of dishabille.
I do not drink often, and I must admit that I did drink my first shot rather quickly. (when I do drink I love a shot of Maker's Mark with a coke on the side). This did relax me a little, and Daddy and the gentleman talked for a while. I was careful to contribute to the conversation, but not monopolize it. Daddy made me go to the bar for refills a few times, and I had to stand there waiting while I felt on display. This was very mild though, and the drink had relaxed me enough that I didn't feel to obvious. A few of the women in the bar were kind and smiled at me, murmured polite greetings. A few other women did not smile! Wonder why? (fake naive moment)
Towards the end of the evening Daddy made me go around a secluded corner. He had me bend over and spread my legs very wide. I had to stretch a little on my toes and lift up my skirt to just above the top of my ass to show that I had the stockings (which I love) and no panties on. All of this with others only a few feet away. Surprisingly I was not truly embarrassed at this. I had gotten to the place in my mind where I was no longer concerned with exposure, but only concerned with being pleasing.
Daddy then had me turn around, I kept my head down because I was just a tiny bit embarrassed when I was facing the gentleman again. Daddy ordered me to pull my breasts out into the open, and when facing the bar (still no one able to see) it was a little more difficult. He walked up behind me and twisted my nipples sharply while talking with our friend. I struggled to be quiet. I wanted to remain silent but he bit in sharply with his nails and I couldn't keep entirely silent. I believe the words "mother fucker" slipped out of my lips. I pulled away for a second, but quickly moved back into place so that Daddy could continue. I was furious, with myself for moving and making any noise, and with Daddy for nearly causing us to be exposed. But let me be completely clear. I was still not concerned that I would be embarrassed, but more that we would be asked to leave if someone discovered us and Daddy would be upset. I know, stupid. But I was kind of not in my right mind at the moment. Daddy then ordered me to my knees and I dropped immediately, and he had me do something so humiliating for me. He made me bark like a dog. Of course, I was still not embarrassed, but seriously pissed off! And there was no way I was not going to do as he said. Even angry I still wanted to obey. But gosh was I struggling with it. But I did it! And surprisingly I now feel pretty good about it.
Ok, so call me crazy, but I did exactly as my owner instructed without any physical hesitation. Even though my mind was screaming out "what if you get caught" my body obeyed without question. And I am proud of that fact. It felt good to cross a line that I would never have crossed if I had been prepared for it. So tell me something, what is a woman like me doing behaving like this? Because I truly don't have an explanation that makes any kind of "normal" sense. My only explanation is that I am devoted to my Daddy and want nothing more than to please him, to the point of denying everything that common sense and social mores dictate and behaving as he says. And something else I learned, I trusted him subconciously even when my concious mind wondered "what the fuck?"
Good night all!

Tonight the beast lies quiet in her cage, content and sated of all urges.

The moon is high and the skies are clouding over. It is to quiet. I do not trust the quiet. When things are calm the storm is always just over the horizon and I can feel it coming. But for tonight it is peace.

Just a brief journal note tonight. You would think the full moon would be inspiring but tonight it doesn't feel like it is. My only real topic for tonight is about my ability to spot weakness and exploit it.

As I have stated previously, I do not always do this conciously. Often I realize after the fact that I have done it. Well, I did it with Daddy this week and did not realize it until tonight. I was not pushing him or anything like that, but I was seeing him not enforcing the rules and I was getting away with everythign I possibly could. He has not punished me for this, but made just a brief comment about my not being as obedient as normal and it made me see what I was doing. So now I must check myself and watch to see if I am getting away with things and pushing the boundaries. It is as if I am doing what child would do, stepping a toe over the line to test. Boy was that a yucky thing to see in myself.

Good night folks.

I normally avoid writing about this sort of thing because I do not want my journal to turn into one of those "hearts and flowers" sort of journals. You know the kind I mean, where everyone talks about how beautiful their gift is, and how lucky they are to have the Daddy of their dreams. But I felt compelled, in the tradition of keeping this an honest accounting of my journey, to write tonight about what follows.
It has been a difficult week. Emotionally and physically it has been stressful. We all have those times in our lives when the day to day gets to us, and things pile up. That has happened in mine and Daddy's lives this week.
A few weeks ago Daddy went through something very personal that has caused him to feel vulnerable. As the submissive in this relationship it is normally me who looks to him for comfort and guidance. But I find myself in the position now of being the one to offer my gentleness and devotion in a totally different way. Daddy is needy. A few years ago this would have made me wonder if he needed to change roles for a while. But I don't think that this time. I see now that what he is looking for is a chance to take a break. As a 24/7 loving married couple we sometimes need to focus on wife/husband more than Dominant/submissive.
Instead of seeing him in his emotionally shaky mood causing me to wonder if he will become submissive again instead it only deepens my desire to belong to him. His opening up to me about the fears and stresses that are going on in our lives has awakened a deeper level of devotion. He needs me.
I think in my analytical mind I always knew that. I am a great believer in the power exchange. Daddy feeds off my surrender and grows stronger. But he also draws strength from me when I am strong and he is weak. His weakness has in no way lessened his hold over me. And he is not using it as any kind of ploy. He is genuinely in need of comfort and care and I am fully capable of giving it to him. His strength and control have given me the confidence and strength to shoulder his burden and carry him when he needs me most.
This lifestyle is not just about the physical. I am the first to know that only living in the physical word is completely unsatisfying. But this new level of understanding transcends the knowledge that is merely cerebral. It has become a part of who I am, rather than knowledge seperate from me. Knowledge is only truth if it is lived. I feel that words cannot properly convey this. But I am left with no other way to express it. I am grateful to have been given the opportunity to understand this on more than a cognitive level.
Blessings

Descriptive writing

Today I write about two different things that have come up recently. The first is my Daddys new "program" for me. Each morning when I wake up I shower, and then before I get dressed I must present this midsized slapper that we have. It is a leather equestrian slapper that has a midlevel impact. I must then crawl up on the bed, present my ass to Daddy and he administers a morning beating to start off my day. I must ask for it, and must submit as quietly as possible so that I don't wake the children.
Daddy decides how long and how intense the beating will be depending on his mood or my attitude. I like this slapper because of its mid level impact. It has a nice thud that resonates through my flesh and into the muscle without stinging to greatly, unless it hits sensitive parts! It warms up my ass, makes me all tingly, and usually results in Daddy being very aroused which leads to a morning f*ck. My face must be buried in the bed so that the sound is a low as possible. It also means that I cannot anticipate any blow. So what happens as a result of this? Aside from the morning sex? My attitude is brought into proper perspective for the day. If I were concerned, stressed, aggressive, those feelings all dissipate. I become centered and focused. Teh pain is a pleasurable one. It increases the blood flow to my pelvis and each stroke awakens me. I come out of my morning fog and feel so owned and cared for. I just want to crawl onto Daddy and nibble him everywhere. I want to rub up against him like a cat in heat. Right at this very moment I can feel liquid silk melting between my thighs.

Which brings me to the second thing I wanted to talk about. Breast play. I love to have my breasts bitten. The nipples, if they are taken into your mouth and kind of chewed on between your molars, just enough pressure to cause discomfort and mild pain. That is like a shock right through my middle. But to really melt me into a puddle bite on the sides of my breasts. My breasts are very full, and you can take a mouthful in and not even come close to having all of my breast in your mouth. I love to be bitten to the point of bruising. Not suckled on so that I have a hickey, but actually breaking the below surface blood vessels and bruising them. Ok, time to finish this up because I am getting way to aroused and Daddy is currently napping.

Now on to the more interesting things. I have had time to examine this week why I do what I do. Why do I subject myself to beatings, why to I allow myself to be humiliated, why do I crave the things I crave?
I am not sure of the complete answer but I have found a little more direction.
Of course I want the deep intimacy that comes with being owned. To belong to another human being, to be thier chosen thing, to fulfill thier desires and needs makes me feel content. I feel useful, safe, and satisfied. If I am a source of pride to my owner then I feel I have acheived my purpose.
I do not yet understand why humiliating someone is what you would do with a thing you value, but I am learning a few things about it. When I submit to something that Daddy knows makes me feel stupid, and embarrassed, if I do it with the correct attitude he is so pleased. He tells me that I have made him very happy when I am willing to strip away the things that make me feel powerful and attractive and make me proud of myself and surrender to his wishes. I am a person who is very concious of what others think of me. I make sure that I look well when I leave the house. I am always thoughtful about how I speak and what I say in the presence of others. I do not want to give a bad impression, and actively "read" other people to see what they will react positively to. When Daddy forces me to act against this ingrained behavior I am uncomfortable and question how I am going to possibly comply. I am learning to shut off my emotions and just do it. When I can stop thinking about what everyone else is thinking and just be unconcerned I am fine. I find that if I do the things that embarrass me with grace I feel it is easier. For now Daddy is allowing me this. My training is not complete and probably never will be. But this makes it a little easier for me.
I still feel I am a long way from understanding what motivates me, and what motivates Daddy, but part of the turn on is digging deep to find out. So that is the draw for me. That is what keeps me going forward. I will expose myself, I will open up, I will not break.

A little bit of a change of topic to explain my absence this week. Surprise surprise, I am a normal woman and have vanilla committments.
I know, boring. But this is the reality of life, which is what I am always sstriving to acheive here anyhow so I am going to give a little detail so that the truthfulness of my journal is maintained. I am a mother of three young teens, and we have the normal things that all families have. Band, track, jobs, and all of the other little details that make my life a real life. So for anyone that missed me this week, I am sorry to have been disappointing by not writing, but it was one of those weeks when vanilla reality imposes upon my alternate reality!

But hopefully I will now get into a better patter and be able to maintain this journal a little better.

This week was not without its alternate moments though. Daddy was busy too, but he did find time for pleasure. He even allowed me my pleasure. Of course sometimes when I orgasm it brings on an incredibly fierce reaction. I am filled with a sense of power and crave that physical aggression. But my wonderfully smart Daddy shocked the hell out of me. Just as he could see that bitch begin to emerge, he suddenly slapped me sharply across the face. I instantly and iwthout warning burst into tears. I was suddenly the good little girl again.

I did have a bit of surpressed anger as a result, which I think added to the emotional tumult that was going through me.

And on a side note, my favorite Uncle will be going out of town for a while, so this slut will be missing him until he returns. It is uncertain how long he will be gone. Safe journey Uncle.

My Uncle says that all of my talk about the "beast" within could be giving the wrong impression to submissive males. He did not give this advice to me as a correction, but because I was laughing when I received a message from a submissive male who felt I could be his Goddess.
Me, his Goddess? Laughable. I have been there, and I don't desire to go there again. But I will admit to a childlike glee when watching others suffer. The giggles bubble up inside of me and burst out. My naughty little secret. but that is about as far as it goes. When accompanied by one of my willing Dominants I am more than happy to be the total bitch! I will revel in the torture of some lesser animal. And that is how I think of you (the you being those who I get to toy with, not everyone in general).
But I do not crave absolute power over another persons life. I do not wish to make all decisions on a day to day basis. I do not want to demand, demean, and deride every day. I have an aggressive side, but I am not wishing I could turn the tables and wrest control from those I serve.
I wish for those I serve to own, use, and abuse this slut. That they may enjoy watching me be the feral bitch in heat, ravishing and beating a beast is a bonus. I would like them to be proud to own me. I would like to be a whole person, strong, confident, an asset. I also want them to strip all of that away and get to the writhing, sniveling, desperate woman that lies underneath all of that.
Make me cry. Hurt me for your pleasure. Pull my hair, fill my holes, twist my breast, bite my throat. Please.
But every so often let me f*ck with someone too. That isn't to much to ask is it?

I can feel the beast welling up inside of me tonight. She sniffs the air for prey. Her eyes narrow, her nostrils flare, the pulse pounds in her ears. As she moves within me I feel my joints loosen, even my walk changes when I am inhabited by her. I can taste the arousal of others on my tongue. Each draw of breath pulls in the air deep into my lungs. I catch my bottom lip between my teeth and contemplate what she is looking for tonight. Oh if only the weather were not so nasty. All I want is to find an animal to mate with.
Daddy has been wonderful, he knows how I am when I am in this mood. But even his high sexual appetite cannot fully sate the beast. And to be honest I don't believe he wants to. He enjoys the wicked gleem that enters my eyes. He loves my total loss of inhibitions.
I am not very inhibited normally anyway, but in this mood I am almost drunk with the need to find and take. Adrenelin pulses through my veins and any physical stimulation is nearly painful as it intensifies my needs.
In this mood I wish I had fangs to sink into flesh, and nails that could rip and rend. I hope he is ready for me, because tonight I might just end up on top!

Daddy is playing softly on his guitar as we watch the snow falling outside our home. The wind is so fierce tonight. I have always loved wind. It steals into your mouth and fills you up with its presence. It isolates, even when you are in a crowd.
As a child I was often looking for connection, while still needing my solitude. Sitting outside behind the barn in the evening, with the wind whipping across the fields, I felt as if I were the only person in the world.
Today I am lucky enough to have my connection with others. I am gifted with amazing people that are my family. But the dark, and the scouring wind bring back that feeling from when I was small. Daddy's haunting picking of the strings adds to the mood.
There is utter silence in a snow covered world. All sound is deadened oustide. Tomorrow, in the late afternoon when the snow is to finally have stopped, I will crunch across the pure white land and feel small. But now when I am out in my solitude I no longer feel completely alone. As I have grown I now recognize my connection with everything around me. I am no more separate from the wind than I am separate from my own heartbeat.
Thank you for indulging my metaphysical side tonight.

Descriptive writing. Breath play.
It can be done in various ways. I will get to my personal favorite in a moment, but first I will describe the different ways that it has been tried with me.
The old standard is with a hand around your throat. If the person doing this is strong, and you feel helpless and unable to stop them it can be very effective. It is painful, because the tightening of the fingers as they dig into your soft throat puts pressure on points in your throat that have bundles of nerve endings. You feel very fragile when those fingers are digging in and your breath is coming shorter and shorter. The weight of the body holding you down, the pressure of the fingers on your throat, the thrust if you happen to be getting fu*ked, it isn't quite sensory overload but it can get close. You truly do start having the world go grey around the edges. You can feel your heart beating in your ears. You can feel the bruises forming on your neck. FOr me it is incredibly stimulating. I love that tingling feeling that spreads throughout my body. Your legs start to go all tingly and feel like they are not quite connected to your body. This can also be achieved with a belt around your neck, but you lose the intimacy of skin to skin contact.
Now to my personal favorite. I love saran wrap. It not only cuts off your air supply, but it also causes some sensory deprivation. You cannot hear as well, you cannot see hardly at all, just images in front of your face. You start to panic as the saran wrap conforms to your face, each breath draws it tighter to your skin. It is hot, and your hair sticks to your scalp. Then the blessed straw is pushed through and you draw in that precious breath. Only to have it cut off again by a thumb placed over it. You are totally reliant upon the one you trust with your life for every breath. Again you have that delicious tingly numbness that spreads through your limbs. You feel languid, and yet aroused, at least I do. It heightens the sensations in your pelvis, each jolt of pleasure seems to last longer. It is amazing. It is exhausting and totally yummy. I sleep like a baby afterwords. Goodnight folks!

Sometimes I just don't feel like journaling. But I have committed myself to developing who I am, and self discipline is part of what I need to learn. Forcing myself to write when I don't feel that I have anything interesting to say will help me to stay focused. This was not an order given by either of my Dominants, but a thing I am requiring of myself.
I feel a little distracted and disjointed tonight. It is as if I am only half here. So what to discuss with myself tonight.
I think I should clarify something that I hope has not been misunderstood about me. I do not believe that women in general should be subservient to men. I do believe in the strength of men, and appreciate and love the physical and emotional solidity of men. I like my men very masculine. Even when playing with submissive men I prefer them not to be sissy's. I don't have any problems with sissified men. I just am not physically and emotionally attracted to them.
I want to embrace and become what my Daddy wants of me, but I don't think that way because I am a woman and I don't feel that I can lead my own life. I believe it took me learning my own strength and power that has finally allowed me to give myself completely to someone. I give Daddy a whole person.
And just to tease anyone who may be reading for purely prurient reasons (kitty cat knowing smile) Daddy wrapped my head in saran wrap the other day out of the blue. I was standing at the sink washing dishes, and suddenly I was in that terrifyingly lovely space where my very breath relies upon his generosity. God that gets me wet!

I am a Scorpio sun sign. It means that I cannot live on the surface. I do not have all of the characteristics of a Scorpio, I am not much on the vengance thing, but I do seem to have quite a few of the traditional character traits of a Scorpio.
I am quick to anger, but on the other hand I don't hold my anger long, and you will not normally see or even realize that I am angry.
I am extremely sexual, which I think is evident in my postings.
I do not live life in the traditional box. In fact, I hate that box. I prefer to examine my motives, and am constantly looking at the motives of others.
I question and search and delve deep to find that essential truth. And I have secrets. Of course, just give me a shot of Makers Mark and those secrets are out there for the world to see! I am a very light drinker!
I tend to be very intense, and don't have a lot of use for small talk. In fact, one of my main faults is my lack of ability to make small talk. I am direct and to the point more often than not, unless I am uncomfortable, then I take a long time dragging myself around to the point I am trying to make.
Sometimes I wish that I could be satisfied with the surface of things. How easy would life be if I were not constantly searching? But then I realize that I have nothing but pity for those people who exist only to get through the day, never questioning, never digging for more.
I love alone time with myself. I like to sit with a good book and lose myself in another world. I never want to die, because that would mean that my chance to see the next great thing coming around the bend would be over. I do believe in living over and over again though. I just wish I could remember my pasts, and know what would happen in my futures. I love to be complicated, and enjoy very much confusing myself so that I have to untangle my own logic. Of course, I recognize that this can be extremely frustrating for those whose affection is important to me. Sorry!
But mostly I want someone to want to know every corner and curve and bend in my mind. I want someone to uncover all of my secrets, and help me to create new ones.
Just like the hand delving deep into my core, I want to wind my soul with anothers and be fully known. Is that possible?

What is vulgarity? What is vulgar to one person is a pleasure to another. Vulgar used to mean a behaviour or display that was low class, todays redneck (And I do not have a problem with rednecks) actions. Now it is used to describe sexual words, poor language, behaviours that are not within the realm of civilized behaviour.
Certain words are vulgar to some. I Happen to love a well placed fu*k. I also love the word cunt. And as is clearly visible from my profile, I do not feel that slut is a demeaning term. For me a vulgar sentence would more likely include religious references than anything sexual. I am pagan, so go on and try to shove your particular religion down my throat and I am more likely to be offended by that than to be offended by any use of "profane" language. In fact, I think that many in our community revel in the use of language that is considered "vulgar" by the vanilla world.
Call me a bad girl, tell me I am a whore, and I will cum like a faucet. All that we do can be considered distasteful by a large segment of the population. The marks that mar my large, full, creamy pale breasts would be considered abuse by some. But to me they are lovely, and I would gladly show them to the world if it wouldn't get me fired!
Show me a good genital piercing and I am going to get all hot and bothered. That little labret beneath the bottom lip really does it for me. But I could not wear that to work and keep my job.
But then again I think I enjoy that dichotomy in my person. I like suiting up, literally, for my work day, and then coming home and night and not being allowed to wear anything beneath my housecoat. I only cover what must be covered in front of our family. Othersiwe, I am accessible to my Daddy and my Uncle when he is over to visit. I like to look like the librarian, and then transform to go out for an evening. And even better, when I wear a "normal"business outfit and underneath I have no panties and stockings on.
I will leave you with one thought tonight. We are all vulgar to someone. I myself love my own vulgarities.

It is the simple things that reinforce submission. I feel most secure when allowed to express my devotion in little ways, such as cleaning the bathtubs and fetching drinks. THe little rituals make me feel most owned.
Spending my Sundays cleaning our home, cooking meals for my family, snuggling beneath the covers at night and stroking Daddy while he falls asleep. These are the things that remind me daily and weekly who I am.
I am a dominant control freak in my daily life. My job is one that requires me to focus, make decisions, educate and advocate for others. It is intense and deeply satisfying. Surrendering the outside persona when I return home each night is freeing. I am no less a person when I am home and in my natural role, in fact I am a more complete person.
I do sometimes struggle with the shift. I feel agressive and want to take cahrge at home. But my Daddy is learning just as I am, that it is best to instantly correct my behaviour so that it does not get out of hand.
Most men who meet me do not see the submissive right off the bat. I often have submissive men respond to me. I lived in a dominant role for many years, but did not find it as fulfilling as the role that I now inhabit. I would not say that I am a "switch" because that would imply that I can change back and forth. That is not the case. But I do have a natural response to weakness. When I see a weakness it is in my nature to play with it, and take the role of top. I do not always take pleasure in this, because I am always seeking others who see my real place. It is a shallow victory to twist someone who felt they could control me until the roles are reversed. I do not want a pet. I do take perverse pleasure though in tormenting those who are not strong enough to remain in control around me.
It is not that a person need be on guard though. I respond to the true nature of a person. It is not the arrogance or the behaviour that brings on my favored place. It is the true soul that lies beneath all of that that draws out my comfortable place.
This is not meant as a warning to others who approach me. I will always be respectful and submissive unless given leave by my Daddy and my Uncle to be otherwise. But don't think you can hide yourself from my gaze. I see you,k and I don't want you. But I do get off on forcing you to see yourself, and I will, when allowed by my owner and mentor take full advantage of your lack of selfdiscipline and self awareness. I will use your weakness against you and take pleasure in drowning you in your own cries.
But back to my original thought. Through the guidance of my Daddy and my Uncle I am comforted, aroused, and learning to be proud of my submission and where it is taking me.

If I scream and no one listens, then did I really scream? My vocal chords were fairly fried yesterday from screaming. I was still shaky even though it was 24 hours after being beaten. No, I had not done anything wrong to deserve punishment. I Was beaten because it pleased my Daddy and my Uncle.
I know that I am guilty of misunderstanding what it is to serve. In the beginning I was like every other submissive. I thought how wonderful it would be to be owned. To be cherished, loved, have a safe place. That is part of it. That is the nice and gentle part. But it is so much more than that if you are truly looking to be owned. It means surrendering your will even when you don't feel like it. It means giving beyond the point that you would cry stop, and not crying stop. It is not a gift that I give. It is who I am. It is so much more than capital letters on the page, and Sirs and Ma'ams. It is more than being the slut, the pain cow, the whore who loves a fist inside her. Those are all parts of it, but they are not what It really is.
It is just who I am. It is just who I am.
When I go to sleep at night I am my Daddys girl. When I wake up in the morning I am my Daddys girl. When I am lucky enough I am given to my Uncle and I am his girl to.
It is the wonderful moment when you face is buried in a pillow so that you can scream until you are hoarse, and the beating stops and you have taken it. Alcohol is soothed across your flesh and the coolness is stronger than the slight sting. Your face is covered in tears and other such fluids, your eyes are swollen, your throat is thick, and you are shaking and sweaty and tired. And you feel comforted, loved, content. Not because you deserved to be comforted, but because the person you adore wants to offer comfort.
The marks will linger for days, over a week in my case, and they are treasured. They are a symbol of the effort that was expended to put them there. They are a symbol of the fact that you took this without being restrained.
But the hunger for more, and the need to give even more returns with a fierceness that you did not know was inside of you.
It is just who I am.

Oh that sticky pain issue again. Today Daddy and my Uncle used me harder than I have been used in a long time. It was not without its pleasurable moments, so please don't misunderstand, but it had plenty of painful moments as well. Pictures will soon be available!
It isn't that they actually did anything spectacularly different, just a good old fashioned caning. I really hate stingy pain. But the effects of the pain had the desired result for both of them, and grudgingly I will admit for me as well. I felt as if I provided pleasure to both of them. Ok, so lets examine this a little more closely. I am a toy for their amusement. I am an intelligent woman, relatively attractive, honest and open, all of the things that you would see in your average (Ok, lets be honest I think slightly above average, on occassion I am humorous about myself) woman and yet I allow myself to be used in ways that can be demeaning, degrading, and dammit quite painful! And I do it willingly and with full knowledge that it would look insane to the outside world. But it fulfills me. It gets inside of me and allows me to free the chained beast. It opens up the little girl who wants to be good. It provides pleasure to those who matter to me, and makes me feel loved. So screw the outside world, because for me it is cathartic and uplifting. Not necessarily when I am going through it, but afterwords, when I am stroked and held it is. And, my body betrays itself by responding positively even when my mind is crying out NO! STOP!
So this kitty cat will sleep peacefully again tonight knowing that she has in some small way given pleasure to those who hold the strings to her heat, and control ever more constantly her screwed up mind! I love being screwed up! Thank you Daddy and Uncle.

I am probably writing these missives for myself more than anyone else. It helps me to organize my thoughts when I write them down. I am so blessed in so many ways. I feel guilty often for having what I have. I believe that I will continue to strive to be worthy.

Why is it so much more difficult to write when I am content? I think it is because I do not want to sound like everyone else, singing the praises of my "Master" and how amazing he is, or laying on thick, syrupy praise for my Uncle who has been so wonderful to me. I would rather always have it known that I am sincere in the words that I say.
But indulge me for a moment as I do just that. I am truly fortunate taht my Daddy is my Daddy. He balances me, and cares for me, and thinks I am beautiful.
I am also deeply greatful that my Uncle finds something in me that is worth nurturing, and teaching, and ripping from me.
So tonight, after having been used in a way that was uncomfortable but not painful, and having satisfied my Daddy so that he can sleep well I am feeling like the cat who just got to lap up the creme.
Good night my Daddy. And my Uncle, good night. I hope that I will be fortunate enough to see you again soon.

The feral cat in heat. One of my favorite descriptions of my favorite mood to be in. It is disconcerting, distracting, and powerful. When in that mood I am more likely to be impulsive, agressive, and very physical.
In trying to describe the tumult of emotions and physical sensations that are going on inside of me at that time I can only think of "giving in to my inner animal".
Then I could scrape the skin off another human being, it feels so intense. I want to fight, no with words but with my body. I want to be manhandled, and to manhandle back. I want to have my face pressed down into the floor and try to twist out of your grasp. Put that boot at the back of my neck, thrust my legs apart, grind your knee down into my back wind my long hair around your fist, jerk back my head and force me to hold still while you tie down my hands. I will attempt to gain control of the situation. I will want to straddle you and fulfill myself, leaving you unsatisfied and wanting, curled up in a ball on the floor with fresh scratches and bite marks marring your flesh. I LOVE to bite! If I cum before you do don't count on me taking pity on you. Because in that moment I only care about laughing at your frustration.
If you are able to maintain control and can keep me from taking my own pleasure I will still not let you win easily. You may still have to bloddy my lip, and hopefully you will bite me until you nearly draw blood. I will not want to give in to the release of an orgasm if you are the one controlling the fight. That would mean that you are winning and I will do everything that I can to make sure that doesn't happen. If you manage to force me to cum then I will turn into the meek little girl that I normally am. I will cry, great fat wet tears of release and abandon. I will be disconsolote. I will grovel for your attention and beg you to fill me with your cum, because then you will have keyed into the pleaser that is the real me.
When we are finished and I am cleaning off your cock hopefully I will have pleased enough that you will stroke my long dark hair and dry my swollen eyes. The taste of blood on my tongue, mixed with the salty tang of your cum will linger, and I will sleep rested and at peace.

I just had to say that I had a great evening. When the lights go out and we snuggle beneath our covers, having given pleasure to someone is my greatest accomplishment.

"Time refeather the wing,
ankle slip the ring,
the once confined thing
is never again free."
-Edna St Vincent Millay

The sweetest torture is the sorrow of the soul, for it is only in that depth of despair that we awaken to ourselves.
I am strong, and weak, angel and saint,
I am proud and humble, mother and daughter,
I crave the innocence of youth as I was when I suckled my mothers breast,
I crave the wickedness of depravity as I am opened from within,
When you see me at my darkest moments do not turn away.
Do not give me the comfort of hiding my basest desires from the light.
All that is given is never all there is to take.
All that is offered is less than what can be stolen.
I am not the innocent, the proud, and the strong,
I am not the evil, the humble, or the weak.
I am woman, and I long to feel you so deep within that my very core is exposed to you.
Pull from me what you crave from me, for I give you only crumbs of myself, but I wish to give you everything.

Just to clean up this mornings confusing journal entry because I was very emotional and rambling. I am compelled by my nature, and the intense desires of my heart to please those I care about. I am scared shitless taht in doing this I may lose myself completely. Not just the parts of myself that do not please those I care for, but also those intrinsic parts that I treasure about me. I am a strong and intelligent woman, who does not want to lose that part of me. I only wish to be better, and get closer to perfection. Because for me there is no other option. And as I said earlier, the limits taht I have today will not be the limits I have tomorrow. Thank you Daddy and Uncle for recognizing that this slut wishes to learn and please you both.

I hate cliches. More than anything I hate when I am the cliche. I hate identifying parts of myself that I don't like. I do not like to discover that I am not perfect and that I cannot do everything asked of me immediately when it is asked.
I find myself intensly confused at this moment. I want to be good, that is the deepest desire of my heart. I am afraid that in being as good as possible though that I will disappear. I do not expect the person controlling me to do as I say or to stop when I say stop, or to even desire to have me enjoy everything I do. But right now I am so confused as to where the line isbetween being the good girl and still haveing my (I really hate this word) limits known. I have a great deal of difficulty with asking someone to stop when I have gotten to the point where I cannot go any further. I want to seperately to be everything that the other person needs and to not disappoint that I feel like a failure when I need a break. I do not want to have limits. I want the person I am serving to know when I have reached that breaking point and to recognize it without me having to fail by letting them know. Yep, I want a psychic! Stupid, I know. So how does one who wishes to please and never wishes to disappoint find the balance between giving and being pushed to far at the moment? My Daddy can tell when I am getting there, but I worry that his love for me will not push me far enough to be pleasing to him. My Uncle is learning me, and he is incredibly wise in how to train. I am sure he recognizes my breaking point as well, but wants to push me past that so that I can grow. Because my limits now will not be my limits tomorrow. But when I fail because I have not been able to go as far as wished, what next? And isn't the blame entirely mine for not finding an honest way to communicate this to those who wish to use me? I do not wish sympathy, but I hope to find understanding.

I am not going to sing the praises of the lash, or try to convince anyone that I adore pain for pains sake. We have all read the entries by people who have obviously romanticized what it is to be beaten. The truth of the matter is much grittier and much more real than the flowery words of someone who has never felt the "kiss" of the whip or the "sting" of the cane.
It hurts! It makes you sweat and tremble and hate, even if only briefly. It leaves marks, that after the fact a submissive is proud to wear. But during the making of those marks you are cursing, however silently and only in your mind, the person giving them to you. It takes sheer determination and a desire to truly please to thrust your breasts out to have them whipped.
It is after, when you are sweaty and hurting and emotionally lost that the beating becomes beautiful. Then, when you are laid bare and wishing for comfort, when you are wondering if your efforts to take what you were given were successful, that is the moment of perfection for the submissive.
I love to serve, and want nothing more than to please the person I am serving. But it is not the pain that is the goal for me, the submissive. It is the emotional turmoil, the hatred that turns immediately to devotion, the total surrender of my will for anothers that is my goal.
That need to be stripped bare, emotionally, to have no one to turn to and to be taken beyond what you thought were your limits, and to be placed in a healing bath, or to be shoved onto the bed and roughly used, sobbing and twisted inside. All the while knowing that I have pleased, somewhere in the back of my screwed up mind. That is my goal.

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