Anxious.

This is how I am feel­ing right now as I sit before my laptop at 9:04am on Monday morn­ing. I can feel the ball at my throat, that icky choked up sen­sa­tion where I am bor­der­ing on tears and try­ing with great dif­fi­culty to keep them hid­den behind my eyes. I was not going to share my feel­ings nor the activ­it­ies that Master and I engaged in over this past week­end so quickly. I was cer­tain I wanted to hold them inside longer, to cocoon them with activ­it­ies and ran­dom thoughts so that I did not think about everything that tran­spired. But the more I forced it all down into the pit of stom­ach, the more the verbal vomit began to rise and so here I sit, fin­ger­tips shak­ing, lip trem­bling and heart feel­ing scared. And it is so weird because I do not fear shar­ing what we did I fear expos­ing my feel­ings about myself.

Master and I have been look­ing for a poten­tial toy for over a year. We both have been dili­gent in our quest; how­ever, we simply were not find­ing many who wanted that exper­i­ence and part of that we believe was my hard rule of no one under the age of 26 years. I did not wish to bring what I con­sidered a “child” into the pic­ture and Master will­ingly accep­ted my terms. Recently I lowered my age require­ment to any­one 22 years and older and still we struggled. Last week, and after many many con­ver­sa­tions with younger indi­vidu­als and much thought, I decided that any­one of legal con­sent­ing age was someone we could approach for con­ver­sa­tion and poten­tially see where that might lead us.

Amazingly, Master was well received in the 18+ gen­er­a­tion and after spend­ing a few days speak­ing with one in par­tic­u­lar, he had made plans for us to share some tea with her on Saturday. I was not appre­hens­ive but I did feel a slight unsettled sen­sa­tion when I saw her smile and felt sud­denly old. During the drive to meet her I asked Master her age and when he stated she was 18 I imme­di­ately sighed, “half my age”. I was uncer­tain as to what I could pos­sibly have in com­mon with her but I wanted to be open because, well, because I did. I just did. As I sat there, learn­ing a little more about this young woman, I became more com­fort­able and yet, at the same time feel­ing some­thing pecu­liar, some­thing not overly pleas­ant: jeal­ousy. I was not jeal­ous of her youth, but rather of her self aware­ness of what she wanted with regards to her edu­ca­tion, her career and her sexu­al­ity. This young woman held an air of con­fid­ence I still do not pos­sess. The more I delved, the more aston­ished I was at the research she has done with regards to her life goals and her sexual exper­i­ment­a­tion. She mys­ti­fied me.

Eventually we par­ted from our drinks and went for a short walk which turned into din­ner and even­tu­ally arriv­ing back at her home. We all sat in the car, con­tinu­ing to con­verse and before I real­ised what was hap­pen­ing Master was in the back seat tug­ging on her hair and spank­ing her bot­tom. Hard. His swats vibrated through­out the car and I was in awe at the pain this young woman was want­ing, beg­ging for. I could feel Masters hun­ger — hun­ger to explore to con­tinue using her bot­tom and tak­ing pleas­ure in ways he had wanted to for so long. I believe I was shocked by the entire scene. I was not upset or angry or jeal­ous that Master was tak­ing delight from her but I did not feel con­nec­ted to the moment. This delight­ful young woman was still a stranger to me but Master felt a con­nec­tion and I could sense that.

With bravery and risk, this young woman made the choice to accom­pany Master and I back to our home. I remem­ber sit­ting in the car as this decision was made and it did feel weird that I truly had not been involved in the mak­ing of that decision. Master was the leader and of course the young woman held the power but I, I just sat there nod­ding my head. I knew in my heart that if I had spoken up and said I was not com­fort­able, Master would have taken that in to con­sid­er­a­tion and most likely would have said no to her com­ing back with us. But I did not. I think I was still shocked by the entire pro­cess. This had not been the way I had pic­tured our day with her. I thought tea, con­ver­sa­tion and shar­ing and now she was com­ing home and it was not to converse.

The drive home was quiet. Very quiet. I was not even pro­cessing, think­ing. I was exhausted, my eyes heavy but I knew Master was wide awake, his body full of excited energy and even though she was quietly pon­der­ing in the back seat, she too was full of excite­ment. I could feel the energy between them. We arrived home, I gave a tour of the house, ensured she felt com­fort­able and retired to bed. Master had come to say good­night to me and grab a few toys and when I saw that he was hold­ing the Hitachi wand and the black dia­mond shaped paddle I felt that ball at the back of my throat. I had already made the request that he not fuck her, I did not wish to make any more demands and the smile in his eyes only wanted me to give him everything he desired. My words were quiet as I asked him to ensure the wand did not touch her flesh, I just did not want it to actu­ally touch another per­sons flesh, not yet. I had also wanted to ask Master to not use that paddle, just not that one. That one was spe­cial to me — it was the one instru­ment of pain that I had found some level of free­dom in and I just wanted it to be mine but I felt that I had already asked too much and that I was being silly because they are just toys. I can clean them and she would really like that paddle. I did not use my voice and that was wrong. I cheated Master of being able to make a choice. Still I said noth­ing, even when he asked me again if I was sure I did not wish to come down­stairs to join them. I shook my head, said I was sleepy and than crawled into bed.

But I did not sleep. Not right away. I tried though, god I tried. I begged for the sleep that I had been aching for. Instead I heard their voices, her moans and giggles as he paddled her. I knew that he was smack­ing her hard, I could hear it through the walls, echo­ing up the stairs. I could hear Masters chuckle. This laugh was new, or per­haps not new but the first time I heard such a pleas­ure filled laugh when I was not on the receiv­ing end. At one point I was going to rise and join them but I simply could not force myself to and it is not because I felt uncom­fort­able with Master explor­ing someone, although that was a new feel­ing. No it was because I was mad. I was so filled with rage — rage of her pleas­ure, of her abil­ity to accept the pain that I earlier that day had struggled with.

Before Master and I left for our visit with the young woman, Master had used the new wooden paddle on my ass. The exper­i­ence was sur­real to me and I have a dif­fi­cult time remem­ber­ing it all but I was over his lap and he was pad­dling me and it was the most pain I had endured and it hurt but I was so proud that I could share his desire with him. I know that his smacks pale in com­par­ison to what oth­ers have felt, to what the young woman had exper­i­enced when she was being paddled by Master but for me it was huge. I had made myself let go and embrace it rather than fight it and when my bot­tom was sting­ing and I knew it was pink I felt such pride that I had given him this and then when he ass cunt fucked me after the spank­ing, after wor­ship­ing his cock, I worked so hard to have a relaxed hole for him so that he could just use me and even though it did hurt and I was not as relaxed I believe I was the most will­ing to buck back and endure the pain because I knew it would not last and I just needed to get over that hurdle. And when Master finally came, in my mouth, all over my breasts and stom­ach I felt so con­nec­ted to him and so con­nec­ted with me and it was amazing.

However, when I heard all that this young woman was exper­i­en­cing and it soun­ded as though it was not work for her but raw pleas­ure I felt rage! I screamed inside my head. I was so mad. So unbe­liev­ably mad. My anger con­sumed me and I felt sick to my stom­ach and than when I heard her moans and Masters voice and I knew she was accept­ing the thick, hard glass plug into her ass I vibrated with ter­ror. Here was this young woman who took extreme pleas­ure from every thing that I have to work at and I was so mad. But not at her. I was not mad at her I was mad at me!

I think I actu­ally passed out from my rage but when I woke in the morn­ing it still lived. And when I learned that this young woman came from the Hitachi wand I felt a gross amount of sad­ness about myself. I have tried and tried and tried to cum with that ridicu­lous toy. That toy which every woman I have ever met has declared as the best toy in the world, the toy that pleas­ure wise could replace men (so I have heard, in jest), the toy of all toys and yet I can not even man­age to use it right; some­thing as simple as the wand and I can not even get that right.

As angry as I felt inside about myself, when I saw her smile and when I heard her speak of how much fun she had and that she did not regret it and it was all worth­while and when I saw Masters smile as she spoke I only felt hap­pi­ness for them. For Master. He glowed. And his beam stayed with him through­out the day. The three of us spent Sunday together, going for a drive in Muskoka, roar­ing through the back roads. It was the first time Master truly could enjoy the car he worked so hard for and the energy from him was astound­ing and I felt such joy that he was so happy. The day finally ended late when we dropped off our new friend at 9:43pm. I gave her a hug and when I felt her give me a squeeze and thank me for a won­der­ful day, I smiled once more.

I had no inten­tion of shar­ing with Master any of my thoughts, not on that day. I wanted Master to have a memory of an amaz­ing week­end without a tear­ful slave but in true Master fash­ion he touched me with his words, with his sen­ti­ments, with his love and as we drove home I shared with him my feel­ings and it hurt me so much to both say to him my thoughts to say to myself, out loud, my thoughts. No one wants to admit they feel bad about them­selves. And I most cer­tainly did not want to take away from his sleepy smile. But I do not lie to Master and he can read me so well. I was sur­prised and touched and sad when Master shared with me his thoughts about the black dia­mond paddle and how they mirrored my own. He said he felt bad for using that paddle because I did asso­ci­ate with it with such a fond­ness and achieve­ment. It was as though he had read my mind. What I felt at that moment though was sad­ness because I had cheated Master of remov­ing the sad­ness by not speak­ing up. I did not even speak up in the car when he said those words, in fact, Master will only learn of them when he reads this.

There were two moments when I dis­closed with Master that broke my heart and that was when I sat in the car, facing the pas­sen­ger win­dow, and whispered, “Master, I feel like a use­less woman”. To con­fess that to the one you love feels like a dag­ger in your heart. No one wants the per­son they love to know that, no one. And later, after return­ing home, we sat on the sofa, Masters arms wrapped around me, my lips close to his ears and I whispered, “I love you Master”. His voice was calm and I felt a blanket of warmth cover me when he said, “I know. I love you too”. And with a big breath and all the strength I could muster I tear­fully replied, “I just do not love myself right now”. What awful words to share with the per­son you love.

Master kept me close all night and I felt so safe as his arm wrapped around me. I slept deep. I stayed close to his frame and in the morn­ing when I real­ised it was not all a dream I felt that naus­eous sen­sa­tion rise up through my stom­ach and I knew, I just knew I would have to rid myself of this verbal vomit before I could start mov­ing for­ward. I did not, I do not want to fester with this because fes­ter­ing leads to rot and that can only lead to dam­aging my rela­tion­ship with Master and I never want that. Never. Just like I no longer want to feel like a use­less woman because that is not good for any­one; for Master, for me. But god how I do. In the car, with tears slip­ping from my eyes I explained to Master what it means to feel like a use­less woman and even now as I think about what I said, it hurts.

The sexual parts of a females body which iden­ti­fies her as female just do not work the way they are meant to. I know I have spoken of this before but it is so tire­some that it never gets bet­ter. Fine that I can not have babies. Fine. But I want the pleas­ure. I want to fuck. I want to be fucked. I want to feel good when I am fucked. I want to get some­thing out of it that feels good and I want to give some­thing that feels good. I want. God I want that. And I have done everything. I have seen psy­cho­lo­gists, psy­chi­at­rists, gyneco­lo­gists and more gyneco­lo­gists and more gen­eral practitioner’s. I have been snipped. I have used vaginal dilator kits. I have forced large objects into me and made myself fuck my flesh in hopes that if I just do it over and over and over and over and over and over again it will some how get bet­ter. But it has not. Ten long hard years of try­ing and I am so tired of it. I just want to feel nor­mal. I just want to feel like a woman. I was given this body and the body is female so why the fuck does it not work? It becomes so tir­ing to not work prop­erly that I have often thought of just bring­ing home woman after woman after woman for Master to enjoy and I, I will be his slave to feed him, clean his house, tend to his duties and get to sleep with him. If I bring woman after woman in to please him in every other way at least I will be giv­ing him pleas­ure through a sur­rog­ate. This is not ideal and not my first wish but I am just tired of myself and not being that woman I deserve, the woman my Master deserves. And what kills me, what pierces my heart is Masters ten­der­ness with me, know­ing that I am so utterly dis­ap­poin­ted in myself and yet he still loves me.

As I rambled on about my thoughts Master stayed beside me and asked me what he could do to help. He said we will do any­thing. He said we will pause and be the cud­dling Master/slave and let the sex/play part rest for a little. He said he will help me to find a doc­tor and that we will work together and when he said those words I felt, I felt caught. As though he threw out the safety net and caught me before I hit rock bot­tom, before I crashed and in that moment I fell in love with him all over again. It is a truly great gift when someone can love you when you do not love your­self. And I do not want to be that per­son who does not love her­self. I do not. Oh how I do not. And I do not want a pity party. I do not want to be that per­son who com­plains and never does any­thing. Who wines but takes no action but per­haps I do need to take a little breather and just not try so hard, just for a tiny little bit because I am exhausted.

I think what is the hard­est about all of these emo­tions is that I am not alone with my pain, Master exper­i­ences it as well. I do not want to be a bur­den and Master reas­sures me I am not and I believe him but just as I have been strug­gling he too has been fight­ing this fight for four years and that seems so unfair that he has had to. I know he would not be here if he did not want to be but I still feel what I feel.

When I woke this morn­ing I remembered I had one more envel­ope to open. I had thought of ask­ing Master for a repreve but I do want to fol­low through, I want to com­plete my envel­opes because they truly bring me emo­tional pleas­ure and if any­thing they have helped me to not feel so use­less. So I will open it and I will share the exper­i­ence and I will move past this. I feel weak, tre­mend­ously so, but I know I am strong. And I know I have Master.

I would not take back any part of this week­end. I have no regrets but I will be damned if I do not learn from it and grow and be a hap­pier per­son and even­tu­ally love myself again. I owe myself that. I owe my Master that.

I love you so much Master. So incred­ibly much.

Thank you Master.

~His

No related posts.