All of me.

Traffic jam in my neurological highway. »« Learning to ask.

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I have known for a very long time that I am a person who is often seen by many. I exude a sense of confidence that attracts people to me and I, more often than not, am comfortable with the audience that embraces me. I possess a gift for conversation and entertaining others with my sense of humour, intellect and genuine interest. Without much, if any effort, I frequently become a focal point of conversation, commanding with acceptance, the attention of those I share a room with.

I am a leader, described by many as an alpha female. Regularly I guide, motivate, coach and encourage others to take the initiative, to risk big and to appreciate all lessons which come from ones mistakes. I am viewed as powerful, direct, patient and strong by the outside world: an independent woman who jumps at all opportunities for experience.

The image I project is not a farce. When I am engaging with colleagues, family members, friends, acquaintances, even complete strangers I illuminate with a sense of peace and welcoming. I feel comfortable in my body, with my words and I enjoy sharing who I am. This sense of reality begins to slip though when I become quiet, slowly embracing the inner me: the girl, the slave, the dolly. I am no longer ashamed of these aspects of who I am, however, I am still learning their voices.

Each characteristic of who I am has a distinct voice. The girl is feminine and soft, agreeable and pleasing in a romantic whimsical manner; often times timid and in need of reassurance. The slave, the entirety of who I am, is a conundrum exhibiting both fear and strength; learning to feel absolution in all sexual pleasures. And the dolly, whose voice is growing exponentially, is malleable, easily lead into deviance without guilt, without inhibitions.

I use to keep those three powerful voices secret from the world. I sheltered myself from raised eyebrows, gasping mouths and disapproving looks, not wanting to deviate from the persona I had born. I manipulated the truest part of my being into thinking I would not be accepted should I be seen soft, controlled, decorated in barbie fashion. I spent far too much effort silently mocking girls who I witnessed participating in such mannerisms. (In truth, I was mocking myself.)

The reality is there will always be critics in this world, but what I desire, who I am, is not wrong and I am finding I want to show more of my voices to the world, to myself. I became very aware of my new found desires while in Toronto with Master. During our stay I was instructed to wear my lovely pink leather collar at all times. At first I felt grossly uncomfortable, feeling numerous eyes gazing upon my neck. Eventually the gazes turned into comments and then finally lengthy conversations. The initiation of our interactions stemmed from the collar; however, after a few awkward sentences, I found I was my usual captivating persona and eventually I forgot about my collar, (to the point where I became surprised when someone would make a comment as I just felt completely at ease wearing it.)

I learned a valuable lesson during my exposure; that I am the sum of all my parts and giving all voices a platform ensures my growth. And so, here now, I will show some of my parts, (a little burned from the sun mind you.)

I am powerful in my slaveness, in my girlhood, in the dolly that is me.

Always,
~His grace

Slave musings

All of me.

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Slave musings

All of me.

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