Lord Of Winter

The last few weeks have been a constant stream of fighting fire after fire, fallout from being unemployed for seven months. I’ve seen my slave about 3 days out of the past 2 months. The rest has been working, juggling paying off back rent, bills and keeping enough money to get to work and feed myself, whilst looking for - and finally finding - a really cheap place to live. There’s been precious little time for M/s, and in any case, it doesn’t really work long distance because you can’t truly control someone if you aren’t there physically to supervise them, at least on a regular basis.

We’ve been doing our best to keep some semblance of discipline going, without it becoming hackneyed, back-seat-driving, online d/s. Things like having her tie herself to the bed at night, eat without use of utensils, orgasm-denial… just trying to keep things running without backsliding, while I gear up to buying a car.

Then again, this is much of what ownership entails, being responsible; and I have to give myself a pat on the back for lining everything up and sticking to my plans, picking one thing off at a time. What isn’t so apparent to her is that I am laying the foundations for a secure future for us both. When you have a slave, you truly are responsible for everything they need, and money being tight has meant me being unable to provide her with some of the things she needs immediately - I’ve had to prioritize her needs in order of importance. It’s becoming apparent to me that I can’t wait any longer to get myself more anti-depression drugs… I need to be together for us both.

On the plus side, I no longer feel much, if any resistance to treating her as my property and sex slave. Which sucks, ‘cos she’s not well at all, and I have to be careful with her. Well, not uber careful. Heh heh…
She’s got some sort of auto-immune disease I think, so I am doing my best to fix that with reading and supplementation, as I don’t have medical insurance, and besides, the Medical Profession was unable to help her when she got sick with the same thing ten years ago. But there is much that can be done to reduce inflammation and muscle/joint pain, upregulate dopamine and serotonin, reduce blood pressure and so forth, without spending a great deal of money; and these things are workable long term strategies to becoming symptom free. It is very important to me to have my property in perfect working order, so that it can serve me best and be a source of recreational pleasure.

Anyhow, what it all adds up to is that within the next 3 months I fully expect her to be a lot more healthy, to have a car and a job upstate, and to have moved back in and begun the process of enslaving her properly.

It’s fortunate for me that I thrive on challenge. I just need a little less stress in my life. As J. Paul Getty says, “One needs only to remember that a groove may be safe — but, as one wears away at it, it becomes first a rut, and finally, a grave.”

The only real security comes from knowing that you have within you the creativity and resourcefulness to survive and thrive.

What does it mean, to be a master? To own another? Why do I want it so, to completely own my mate? What is M/s, and is it really a thing even?

It seems being a master, owning a slave, means a lot of different things to a lot of different people. To some, it means simply owning a piece of property, and is fulfilling in that aspect alone. Romantic love, fulfillment of a pair-bond, sexually intimate side of one’s nature doesn’t enter into it in that type of dynamic. Much can be read about what a slave is, and what a slave isn’t, what a master can and can’t do, and what M/s is. It doesn’t necessarily preclude intimacy, yet in some instances precludes it as a prerequisite. Some people like control, others service, some both. Some like only ritual. Some like captivity or restraint. Not everyone has fetishes. It doesn’t always involve S&M, it doesn’t always involve sex. No one in ‘the lifestyle’ seems to be able to agree on anything more than this: the master has the power and the rights and dominates all and the slave has none and must submit completely.

If I needed to relate my experience to those of others, or foster a sense of community and belonging, to exist inside a subset of a subset of a subculture (the link to BDSM subculture is looking ever more spurious to me), if I needed to create a paradigm within which to experience my own existence as real, I might be tempted to start a faction called “Heterosexual Intimate Monogamous M/s”. Hmm - HIMMs.

But I don’t (and oh God, I really shouldn’t).

I am not interested in setting up a framework of definitions and standards against which I may compare myself to other people, because all that’s really about is not really feeling OK. Am I OK? Oh, if I act this way you people who are like me will think I’m OK, and then I will be OK, so it won’t matter that almost everyone else in the world doesn’t think I’m OK. Who am I again? Yawn. Stretch… what was I saying?

Oh yeah… I’m already OK. I like being me, and I am really interested in doing it a lot more intensely. I am interested in being as happy and as fulfilled and as passionate and as alive as I can for as much of the time as I can. Having a slave is proving to be a really effective way to do that.

There are no real guidelines, one has to look to one’s nature, one’s intuition to make the rules. To me, that’s what M/s is about, blazing your own trail, rejecting the bullshit, one-size-fits-all independent, sexless persona mass-produced by the institution and worn like… like slave raiment. It about living closer to Nature by living according to your own nature, honoring the creative, intuitive side of your psyche as well as the regimented, logical side. It is about trust: trusting yourself. I see M/s as the honest, soul-searching pursuit of happiness and fulfillment within an intimate relationship between two people, one who by their nature has a deep need to lead, and the other, to follow.

What I am finding is that the more I exert control, the more I indulge my natural erotic sadism, the more I take charge of her well-being, then the more I care about my own. The further away I get from the egalitarian model of the intimate relationship into this mysterious, enticing midnight forest, this symbiotic quest into the deep, dark Orinoco of the soul, the happier I am, the more secure and connected to my own existence I feel, and the more the love I experience, and have to give. I am not an isolated, independent being, nor am I co-dependent. I am connected to the divinity in me, through the divinity in her. Life is in the process, not the result.

That’s what I mean when I say, “M/s”.

I was going to entitle this ‘homesick’, but ‘trust’ I think is more appropriate.

I’ve just spent the last 2 hours reading through M’s lj from 2005-6 … because I miss her. I can’t believe I hadn’t done this before. It’s funny how you can sometimes feel someone you know really well is a stranger. I guess she was, back then - a stranger. How different her life was. Frenetic, full of excitement and trials and O.T.O. and house buying, barely-noticed sexual partners, wild drinking. Not unlike my own a few years ago… A strange reminder that there is so much more to know, so much more to see and understand, of this deep and able and wonderfully complex girl who is my slave. And it is my responsibility, and my dear wish to know everything.

I am sick of being away from her. I am sick of this city. I never wanted to come back here. Yes, it is my responsibility to support us both and I’m doing what needs to be done; but I am beginning to wonder, to feel now, now that I haven’t been able to see her for 2 weeks, a very real sense that I am wasting precious life. How much more of this? I had a job interview lined up in Albany, a much better job than the temp assignment I had until Friday - then I couldn’t rent a car. How much longer is this struggling going to go on? I am trying to remind myself that I am doing this so that we can be together, I am just here because it’s more likely I can find work here, at least in the interim until I can get reliable transportation.

Living in the city and seeing her at weekends is not going to work for me. If this is about me, what I want is to live in the countryside with my slave, and work nearby, commute to Albany. So that’s what I am going to be doing…

I spent some of today reading ‘Control’ by Peter Masters. It’s a very boring book, but I thought I’d get some more out of it after having recently realized the difference between service and control, and realizing it’s the exercising of control that motivates me, makes me feel alive. I thought of a million things I wanted to do with M. today, and of course I can do none of them online. It’s made worse by the fact that I have no reliable source of income, so cannot afford to go out and socialize.

She’s changed quite a bit since those entries I think. Become wiser, a little calmer and more centered. Some of that I hope is to do with me. I read, and remember many conversations, about how she has no morality or regard for the feelings of others - but I don’t think that’s true. I think she’s locked away inside, hasn’t in the past made those connections because from a very early age she shut intimacy down in order to survive. I think what I am doing now, providing, as best I can, a stable environment for her - for us both in fact - is the first step in giving her a platform, some way of reaching out and connecting with me; a way for me to connect with her. To feel and to love. To trust and be invested.

The Depo the family planning clinic gave her gave her violent hormonal mood swings, and to be honest I was beginning to despair, after the recent fiasco with her splitting up with me and being courted by another dominant, that we would be able to reestablish trust. I felt like I was treading on eggshells the whole time, and getting hurt left right and center every time I tried to assert the dominance I know it is her nature to need. Fortunately she has rediscovered klonopin, and I have seen the old M. come back over the last few days, laughing and joking, receptive. I felt real love today. I felt a real connection and I saw our happiness together.

This, I have to keep reminding myself, is why I am here, in this shitty little room, in this shitty city, full of shitty people being shitty to each other because they live one on top of the other, scrabbling after scarce resources, with no time for politeness, no energy left to stop and say hello. All the things which make life tolerable to me are missing here.

Well, this has been a vent, and I do feel a little better. I am also happy that I feel confident I can be honest here without fear of damaging our relationship; that it will lead to communication and advancement in trust and a deeper connection. Something to return home to.

The things that give my life meaning, the things that makes me happy, none of them are here. I want to go home. I miss her. Not much longer I hope. Just a few more weeks and an eternity of iron-hard will, to force the world to conform to the way I want it to be. I am lucky to have both the power and the motivation to do that.

Everything worth achieving in life takes effort and sacrifice. And trust. This, I remind myself, is as much a journey into self-mastery, if not more, than into mastering another. I was reminded in Peter Masters’ book that a M/s relationship does not necessarily include love. Perhaps it would be easier if I did not love her. But I do. I am deeply in love with this girl, and if things were to fall apart, my life would essentially lose meaning. I don’t think I’ve ever been this deeply in love with anyone. But this is how I am built. I read that M/s is co-dependent though. I want both mastery - total control- and total intimacy, and I am going to have both. And I do not see that the one precludes the other: in fact to me they are one and the same thing. What use to achieve great things when there is no one to share them with, to give life meaning?

Write a post. Just. Write.

What?

Things have been very stressful recently. I was was without a job for 6 months - 5 of those because I didn’t really need one… I found one within 2 weeks of looking. It’s enough for now while I go on some interviews nearer home, for more money…  I needed to step up and take care of myself and my girl. I did; but for 3 weeks there was no time to do anything else except think, think, think, how am I going to get the money to pay two rents, pay off 3 months of back rent, pay for propane, pay for internet? Well, I’ve done it. It wasn’t easy.

How does this relate to M/s you may ask? It relates to real life, and our relationship is a real one. These things happen. Again I am reminded that I am capable of anything. I think we’ve done pretty well.

Now it’s time to relax and enjoy her for the weekend. I am thinking eating from a bowl. And lots of kink. And whatever I feel like really. I’ve earned it, and self-respect into the bargain.

It’s been a while since I have posted. Mostly because I was enjoying M. and didn’t want to waste time writing.

Now I am in NYC and have a little time free from job hunting and composing.

It’s been quite a month. We have reestablished trust and intimacy, and then some. I have made leaps and bounds, working on my defensiveness, and trampling my stupid hand-me-down inhibitions. Every time I feel an urge to touch her, use her, fuck her, kiss her, I do. Or at least I try. I am learning to use my property for my satisfaction, and it’s making both of us very, very happy. As much as my nature screams at me to possess her entirely, so her’s screams to be possessed.

We’ve made great strides in establishing a secure and permanently open line of communication. I feel this is the basis of trust, and trust and communication both must be present before intimacy can be established and deepened perpetually. If she speaks to me disrespectfully, I refuse her communication until she corrects it. If she still doesn’t respond, I send her away. Lately I’ve not needed to send her away, and she has been very respectful, which is very pleasing to me.

Regarding defensiveness, all I have had to do is remind myself that I am in charge. This is not an egalitarian relationship, and in the battle of wills, she loses; and she does. She submits, and we are both the happier for it. She cannot manipulate me. It’s not that she should stop trying, no. The onus is on me, my strength. When I get my way and she doesn’t get hers, that’s where the control takes place, and that little jolt of primeval electricity surges through us both. The more I do it, the easier it becomes. So I’ve decided to do it more and more until I am able to do it without any inhibition.

I see her on Thursday. I’ve told her on Friday I will be using her every time I feel like it. That might sound easy at first, but this is as much an exercise in removing my own inhibitions as it is in removing hers.

Next I want to let my sadism slowly out of the box. I am wary, but I need to hurt her. I am wary because I need to hurt her more than she is accustomed to (not more than she needs though I believe); to possess her soul, reach into the very core of her and lay her bare before me. I know that she needs it too, but she still has a scary protector part of her psyche. Time to shore up the bed, I joked yesterday with her; but I am serious. She fights like a banshee. Slowly, slowly though. When the screaming and the kicking and the murderous silence starts, I will carry on, just a little bit longer every time. I will take, little by little as I have promised, until she is forced open, raw and subjugated to my will, for my pleasure, as nature has decreed for us. I will have my satisfaction of my property, but in so doing, I will bring out in her that beautiful, adoring slave, bit by bit. It’s hard, because my conditioning tells me to stop when she is in distress; but that is not the road to the union of our souls. Only my strength can save us from this loneliness, break down the gates to the Garden of Eden. Afterwards will be the time to take her in my arms and envelop her - for us both to know an intimacy most only dream of.

You see, she wants to be used, possessed entirely because she is a slave; and I desire to possess her and use her - entirely. It’s hard to describe it. It’s savage and brutal and intimate, but it can only happen because it’s within the confines of deep trust and commitment. I am not a misogynist, quite the opposite. I love this woman: and I know what she’s for and how to use her. How to scratch that deep itch inside us both. So I objectify her, use her entirely; but it’s the way her body, her mind and her soul responds that unleashes the whirlwind inside me. It’s like I take my pleasure of her, which is a mind-blowing turn on for her, which is a mind-blowing turn on for me… and pretty soon it’s just… happening. Like a thunderstorm.

Over the millennia we have taken the divine qualities and power from the human heart, abstracted them, and made them the province of gods. We deny ourselves the power to create ourselves and the world in the image of our natures. I am destroying those gods one by one, and becoming one with my divine nature; and reuniting her with hers.

She calls me Master only when I have mastered her. That must be why it feels so good.

With a kiss on her beautiful face, I’ve left her sleeping upstairs, her body mending itself.

I am sitting, drinking coffee, and reading her blog. Next to me is my key to the lock for her collar. I am thinking I must find a keyring. But should I put this key with the keys to my city apartment, or with the keys to my BMW? It’s clear: this house, upstate is where I leave my car, and it is where I leave my girl. This house, in the middle of the trees is where she lives, and it is home. So I will leave the keys to my possessions where I use them.

I am thinking back to last night, softly rubbing her while we watch a movie. Perhaps for an hour. I know she’s not watching the movie, and neither am I. I don’t think she is thinking at all; but I am; and I am watching too, everything. I have transformed her into a writhing, sensual extension of my desire. I am rubbing, softly, slowly, making her body mine, making it respond just so to every caprice of my will.

I actually take off her collar, because it is just getting in the way of my next target, which is her neck. Now that she is aroused like this, her whole body is a sexual organ. I can make her cum just by pushing my thumb hard into the sole of her foot, ankle held tight in my other hand. In just the right place. But my body knows just the right place. It hurts her because of the operation she’s just had; but that isn’t stopping me, it’s just making it more arousing. Schaden freude.

I move her head over and down onto my lap and begin to lick her neck, kiss her, pull her hair, bite her. My lips quest over her skin, finding that nexus of sexual energy, feeling, like dousing rods looking for the wey lines to her sexual center. I soon find one of those places I am looking for, this one in that place where her neck meets her shoulder. I grasp her skin gently but firmly between my teeth, letting her feel their sharpness, feeling my connectedness to her nipples, her skin, her sex, right at the edges of that place, where the lines of energy cross, and I test; bite down with just the right pressure. Her body and her mind responds exactly, exactly as I want. Her nipples tighten and a soft moan escapes her lips. You are right where I want you, little one.

With her firmly clamped between my teeth, held, I reach down between her legs from behind, and feel the pleasing slick heat between her thighs.  Your collar is a symbol, nothing more, the true shackles my love, are around your heart and your soul.

Slowly, inexorably, I bite down, harder and harder, in perfect harmony with the rhythm of her desire, forcing the orgasm closer and closer. Your gift to me, under duress. You give me everything I want, everything I need. You can’t help yourself, you gorgeous little creature, can you? I don’t want to make her cum because I don’t want to damage her, but I bring her to the edge, over and over. I find more of these little places, and note them for further use. What joy you bring to me. How very, very pleasing you are. Just by being what you are. You, my slave. But it is because you are you, not because you are my slave. It is only right that you should belong to me. You were made for me, and I am making you in the perfect image of yourself that is so crystal clear, burning in the heat of desire in my soul. I am inside you now, you are opened, opened for me, by me. You belong to me. Their can be no question of safety or vulnerability. These are spurious concerns my dear. I bite down again, hard and sudden, to shake these encumbrances from your mind. You exist to please me, here, now. I will brook no interference. Nothing can hurt you here, in this world of my creation. I do not need words to hinder your realization, your understanding. Good. Good girl. It is so hard not to make her cum, again and again for me: but I remember, this is training, and the purpose is to create a healthy, glowing slave. I will not damage you.

I want to come now. I want to come inside you. Since I cannot do this between your legs, I put you on the floor, between my legs. You have some kind of hang up I know about pleasing me with your mouth. Something I said, some time in the past, when I talked to much in terms of mechanics. It was meant only as constructive criticism; but the fault was mine, and I must fix it. I know you are burning with desire now. I want you to beg to take me into your mouth, beg to taste me, take the center of my turgid divinity into your soft mouth and worship me with your lips and tongue. Physics gets in the way now, I cannot guide you with my mouth upon your neck… stupidly, I speak, and the spell is broken. I only want to make sure you are OK, but it doesn’t matter, I have broken the spell. How deeply you feel it, your disappointment that you cannot please me how I will - but the fault is mine, little one, the fault is mine.

And it does not matter. It does not matter at all, because this is two minutes in two hours, where your body, your mind and your soul have been mine, under my control, drinking in every drop of lust, of cruelty, of love that comes gushing out of me, at the sight, the touch, the smell of you. I wrap my arms around you and reassure you. I love you. I do. You are safe, and you haven’t disappointed me. Quite the opposite.

As soon as she is calm, and it takes just a few moments, I bite down on her neck, in that wondrous place again, and her body responds again, never stopped responding. I have made love to your mind and your body for two hours and an eternity.

I take her to bed, and as she drifts off, every movement I make, the tiniest touch and caress brings shudders of lust unbidden from her.

How can you think you have disappointed me? ARE YOU CRAZY? You have given yourself to me - and I own you. I can make love to you, to your body and your soul even while your mind sleeps. I am doing it right now. You will soon ache to take me in your mouth, taste me, receive my seed - when you are looking at me, not at some abstruse idea of how you might be displeasing - but at the reality that you belong to me, and that I am your master, and that your body cannot help but do what I demand of it. You must accept that you are pleasing to me, and that there really is nothing you can do about it, because it’s who you are.

There’s really nothing you can do about it.

Things are going very, very well! M. has 4 hours of free time, until 9.30pm, so I am using this time to write here and take care of some affairs relating to everyday life.

We really are reconnecting, and in fact connecting on a deeper level than we have ever done. This is because I have worked through all my stuff, and I am ready to be who I am. Ready to be happy - and indeed, am!

She’s just had a very minor medical procedure, so we cannot begin with the orgasm on command training, nor can we session so I can try out all the yummy new pain-inducing devices I have bought, such as a new, thicker rattan cane, and the flogger. However, this is perfect timing really, because what we need to be doing right now is communicating. Heh, and she knows what is coming, and this only makes the anticipation all the more delicious.

Communicating is exactly what we’ve been doing! I am slowly and surely climbing further inside her head. Actually, I am letting her into mine as far as she wants to go too. I have no problem with sharing, and I want her to understand the motivation and thought behind my actions (as much as she is curious, or when I think it’s necessary to deepen her enslavement). All in all I feel we have both made huge strides these past few days, both in defining what we want (and I think she is pleasantly surprised to find out just how similar those things are) from each other, and also in her path to enslavement.

If I am to be honest, I had expected that we would. She calls me Master now, and I can only hope it feels as wonderful to her to say it as it feels to me to hear her say it. There are many things to be talked about of course. She is such a quick learner, and so very pleasing to me, that I almost feel the need for any kind of physical punishment is going to be unnecessary. She is so sensitive, empathic and eager to please that reward is the only thing needed to reinforce all the good behavior.

We are both happy to be taking it slow. She knows that every inch of control she gives is not going to be given back; and with each new surrender my control and her enslavement deepens. There is a difference, I think, between the ideal, the yearning and the longing for enslavement; and the actuality of it. The latter is going to be scary at times. She will need my reassurance. There will be times, probably quite soon, when she will begin to realize just how she is changed and changing; that her time, her body, her spirit and her volition are genuinely being stripped from her and taken by by me. There is no doubt in my mind or hers of course that this is what we both want, what is best for our happiness and the fulfillment of our natures: I am just remarking that I am prepared, in fact even joyfully anticipating these petite mortes that will mark her as mine, and enrich us both; just as I am looking forward to holding her, reassuring her, talking her through them, and making her see just how my love really is all around her, protecting her and keeping her safe from everything.

I have never been happier in my life than I am now, nor ever looked forward so much to the future.

I was trying to think of a phrase that adequately describes what my girl has just given me. The enormity of it, the sacredness. Of course, there isn’t one. The phrase I came up with was “All that I am, I give to you.” So I googled it, and found this religious site, where was written the following. It puts the notion of God in a new light doesn’t it? Right back where the holy belongs - in us. And that is what this is all about.

Lord, I’m Yours. Whatever the cost may be, may Your will be done in my life. I realize I’m not here on earth to do my own thing, or to seek my own fulfillment or my own glory. I’m not here to indulge my desires, to increase my possessions, to impress people, to be popular, to prove I’m somebody important, or to promote myself. I’m not here even to be relevant or successful. I’m here to please You.

I offer myself to You, for You are worthy. All that I am or hope to be, I owe to You. I’m Yours by creation, and every day I receive from You life and breath and all things. You alone are worthy to be my Lord and Master. I yield to You.

All that I am and all that I have I give to You.

I give You any rebellion in me, that resists doing Your will. I give you my pride and self-dependence, that tell me I can do Your will under my own power if I try hard enough… I give You my fears, that tell me I’ll never be able to do Your will in some areas of my life. I consent to let You energize me…to create within me, moment by moment, both the desire and the power to do Your will.

I give You my body and each of its members…my entire inner being, my mind, my emotional life, my will…my hopes for marriage…my abilities and gifts…my strengths and weaknesses…my health…my status…my possessions…my past, my present, and my future..when and how I’ll go Home.

I’m here to love You, to obey You, to glorify You. O my Beloved, may I be a joy to You!

You are. You are a joy to me, with every breath you take, waking and sleeping. You always have been. I will always watch over you, and protect you, enfolded in my love, infinitely patient.

And with that, I bid you adieu dear reader, happy in the knowledge that tomorrow I will hold her in my arms and breathe in her skin once more.

All the months of heartache, of not knowing, living in darkness and clinging to the memory and the dream of light it seems, have paid off. Today you told me you wanted to try again. Not only this, but you accepted my mastery, right off the bat.

Well, I am still feeling rather shell-shocked. Reeling with relief. Not really able to write anything deep or poignant. But this is a very important day, so I wanted to mark it here.

I love you. So much. Thank you for not making me be half a person again. Thank you for giving me the chance to be truly happy, for the first time in my life. I mean that.

Oh, and I need to be inside your skin. I will never let you be half dead again.

I do not remember how I found her or this place, but I was drawn here, somehow, one day.

It is in the middle of the forest, quiet and old, where roots suck moisture deep from beneath the permafrost. It is deathly quiet, and my breath hangs in the air in wreaths. At the back of this little clearing, over the bluff, a waterfall is frozen, layer upon layer of ice. Perhaps thousands of years old.

She is white and blue behind the ice, black eyes; all the colors of the north.

Every day, when I am done with the things that sustain life, I return here.

Piece by piece, patiently, gently, always making progress, moment by moment I chip away. It has become my obsession, to free her, make her mine. My queen. My wife. My… I do not have the words. To make her mine.

Eventually I reveal her cold form and, tired, I lay her down, naked in furs before the fire. She is cold and lifeless, but not dead. Never dead. I knew. Wrapped, thus, with my arms wrapped tightly around her, I fall asleep.

In the morning, when the fire has died and frost blankets the earth, I wonder at how warm I am. How warm she has become, so filled with life. She smiles at me, eyes as deep as the sky, as loving as the earth.

There, on the forest floor,  I make her mine.