Words from a slave.

A beautiful christmas to you all. »« Thank you.

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I use to consider journaling to be an outlet to express hidden desires, such as crushes on boys that captivated my girlish heart or vent frustrations and emotional injustices without causing any person harm. When the ink flooded the pages before me there was little if any hesitation and I would often find myself left to massage the indentation left embedded into my finger. Most people have a library of favourite novels on his or her shelves, I on the other hand, anchored each wooden plank with (mostly) leather bound autobiographies; stories which started at the age of five. Each book contained secrets, hidden expressions which, had I not recorded via pen and paper, would never have had an outlet. There was never a moment I did not wish to disclose and I embraced each extraction from my mind, often times finding it difficult to write as quickly as each thought was developing.

The written word came so easily to me during those years. I would simply engage in a silent conversation with myself and eventually discover something new; feel something new; have a better understanding of a situation. I wrote with a sense of urgency, raw in emotions and responses; I wrote in a manner I find difficult to write like now.

When I write now I am cautious. I write in fragments, pausing often to ensure what I type makes sense, is grammatically correct, punctuated accordingly. I disclose in secret code, often revealing too little of what is behind the emotions barely expressed. If one could hear my writing process there would be a gratuitous amount of 'hums and haws' between sentences as I struggle to find the perfect adjective to describe my behaviour. The truth is, when I write now, it is without the same uninhibited passion that use to flow from my fingertips.

There have been numerous times I have sat before my laptop, staring blankly at my computer screen, desiring to tell a story, any story but alas, nothing. I can not count the times I have started an entry only to delete it, unhappy with the contents, of the poorly told tale. Each day I am filled with voices, voices which desire to be heard and yet I silence them. Why? Fear of saying something that will offend? Fear of stating a truth that is too intense even for me to accept? Fear of not wanting to disappoint? Fear of having someone think less of me? Each of those questions are possible and I am not disputing them but one can not stand behind fear alone. Fear is an easy blame - it is strong enough to withstand the accusation and it is an excuse many relate to. Still, I do not wish to rely on fear being the reason for my lack of entries. I have allowed fear to dictate much of my choices but I will not permit it to strangle something that has filled me with passion, that has given me such release.

And so I, here and now, rebuke any further hesitation, any quandary that might surface to my thoughts and instead fill my entire being with permission; acceptance to write. Simply write. I need not flow, ideas do not have to meld into each other, thoughts needn't be expressed in a harmonious manner. What matters is that I open myself to this wonderful world of typed dialogue remembering just how much joy I received from it, just how much energy it ignited deep within. Writing is not about being perfect it is about being honest and that is a trait I crave.

I believe at one point honesty was an innate trait; however, with time, I have someone wondered if it is a behaviour that we have to re-learn. Especially when it comes to emotions. Or shall I say, comes to my emotions. Recently I have been rather combative with Master. I am finding reasons to argue, to conjure anger and this sensation has been swelling inside me. Today was no exception to my ridiculous behaviour and I found myself becoming frustrated during one of our conversations. This particular exchange was by far one of the most absurd and at the end of it all I even stated to Master that I was not certain why I was so upset because what I was upset about was absolutely preposterous. Having an exceptionally patient Master though he never once told me I was silly or irrational, instead he tried to work through my emotions with me and listen to my plight. I felt silly by the end of the dialogue and as we said good bye for the afternoon I apologized for my obscene behaviour.

The unsettling feeling from what had just transpired remained with me though and after my acupuncture and chiropractic appointments I spoke with a friend of mine who is a therapist. I wanted an unbiased and professional opinion to my irrational outbursts. After listening to me rant for half and hour my friend took a deep breath and told me she believed she knew where my new found combative mannerisms were coming from. Interestingly I was already aware of the why behind my choices but I just needed to have confirmation.

Master and I have been a couple for three years now but we have never lived with one another. We have visited each other for weeks on end, we have taken vacations together, we even have a joint bank account but we have never shared a lease, we have never permanently lived under the same roof and truth be told I have never lived with any partner. I am 35 years young and have never shared living quarters with a mate and I am slightly nervous about what this move will bring. Master and I have been in a power exchange relationship since the very beginning and although I am dedicated, loyal and obedient to Master I am very aware that living together is very different from being in each others space 24/7. (Of course I know we will not actually be in each others space 24/7 as we will have jobs and friends and activities but it will be far greater more time together than we have ever had before.)

This move is something I have desired for a very long time and the excitement of going to bed with Master far exceeds the slight nervousness of the unknown but it still has been the catalyst to my erratic eruptions. I treasure what I have with Mater and I do not want to spoil the exchange we share and a part of me worries that I will not embrace the complete power exchange when we are face to face all the time. I am a very hot tempered girl who has strong opinions and a feisty tongue and I do not wish my willfulness to create conflict with Master and myself. With that said, after speaking with my friend I have to learn that this is a very common ailment when a couple's relationship is progressing, especially when it is a first for one of the partners - me. Master has lived with a girlfriend before but I have never with a boyfriend and I am not moving in with my boyfriend, I am moving in with my Master and that title, our relationship carries with it greater weight and expectations than that of most. Thankfully I am a relatively realistic slave and I have always known things would be different once Master and I shared a bed and thankfully I have a patient Master who allows me to work through my conflict so that I can finally come to a conclusion.

After my visit with my friend I shared with Master what I had learned and he actually was surprised that I felt I had been combative. He stated he had not noticed I was argumentative although he did state that he has observed my defensive behaviour whenever we speak of animals and or me being compared to an animal. This topic is what had transpired much of my reflection for the duration of that entire afternoon for our conversation prior to my doctors appointments involved an erratic conversation regarding cats and Master and I having two as pets in our new home. Such a simple topic brought grave anger from me and my behaviour was appalling.

Master has always appreciated cats as pets. I had three cats growing up and I loved them very much but when they passed I vowed never to have a pet again. I like not having hair on furniture and or clothing, I appreciative not having to worry about an animal should I go away on a holiday. I like the freedom of not having to take care of another creature and to focus all my energy on the people in my life. Master and I have 'debated' about the cat situation since we first met and although he has always been insistent on having a pet I for some reason thought I could work my way around it. Little did I know this is a topic not up for debate but rather a true hard fact. And the truth is having a cat is not the end of the world and so while speaking with Master I stated that 'okay we would have a cat but it would not be permitted in the bedroom'. Master of course laughed and stated that the cat could go anywhere it pleased. This comment infuriated me and I was unable to verbalize why but it did. In fact so many comments Master has made with regards to animals, even when he compares me to one or speaks of one I become flustered.

Many girls enjoy being compared to a kitten or even a puppy, I on the other hand feel awkward about it all. Obviously women are feline - esque but for myself I like to be thought of as a human and being a human means certain rights, rights Master controls, which I want but which sometimes are difficult to deal with. For instance Master has stated time and time again that all pets would have the right to go wherever they want but me, Masters slave, would need permission. The idea that the house pet has more freedom than me creates an unsettling sensation inside me. There is something competitive inside me that wants to be equal, no wants to be higher than the house pet and although I know I am the most important person in Masters life (I know because he tells me and because I feel it) I just, well I want to have the same freedoms as the cat. I want that! This thought process is absolutely absurd as I know I am the slave, Masters slave and I am what he wishes me to be but there is something deeply rooted inside me that fights against this 'second class' place.

In the end I am Masters pet, his girl, his toy, his bitch, his fuck meat, his slave. I am whatever he desires and I want that, ache for it and treasure it but like all parts of life there is a yin to the yang, a balance for everything and best yet I also know that 'this too shall pass' and I will find harmony in serving, in being Masters slave, in residing under one roof whether I be in Masters bed or tucked away in a cage of Masters liking.

Change is a constant, something everyone can rely on and with time I am learning to embrace it rather than fight its insurmountable strength. Thankfully I have a Master who helps guide me through it all and permits, nay encourages me to share the change that transpires within. This tiny little journal which so often brings about uncertainty has offered me a portal of freedom, a freedom I was fearful of but now rejoice in.

Not all journals withstand a move. When I left my little town and traveled to Vancouver I re-read all those stories and as I packed up my belongings I slowly burned each page, no longer the girl transcribed upon those white tattered sheets. As this new move slowly comes upon me though I will continue to write for the girl here, projected upon the screen is still developing, being created, being expressed, learning, growing and accepting.

~His

Slave musings