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Monday, November 20, 2017

Use me Any Time You Want

It's time in time with your time

The meditating seems to help. In fact, it helps in many aspects of mouse's life. There's been this mindfulness that previously could really only be achieved at the lake, due to being forced to unplug from everything. Now more often that not, while mouse carries her cellphone with her at all times, she's not so connected to anything else. No more spending hours answering emails or making notes on blog ideas. If an idea does strike her and seems to stick in that meandering way, where it flits in and out of her consciousness then, it will be written about.

This morning, feeling quite contemplative, mouse considered the idea of time and almost surprisingly how important it is to her. An example, if mouse isn't in the kitchen making coffee at precisely six, she feels the whole rhythm of the morning is thrown off. The coffee she poured for Master might too warm or sat for too long and cooled. Breakfast too, is meticulously timed out, if mouse begins it too early it'll be cold by the time the children come down, and if she's running behind, they'll be forced to scarf it down before they have to leave. Master calls it "organized chaos".

Driving too, if mouse isn't on the main road by a specific time, she'll hit every red light on the way to school and those lights are all long. If you miss one, then you'll miss each of them (although mouse will try to speed up to break that chain) and it never fails there is more waiting in the drop-off line at the school. The same was true even at the lake. The clock ticks and tocks in a rhythm of its own and mouse follows that.

The meditation is where everything stops, the thoughts might drift in and when mouse realizes that moment that she has drifted, she lets it go. The shopping list, the ironing, or whatever is rambling through at the moment, are embraced and released. Existing in the peripherals of life, waiting often patiently to be useful. Busyness or holiday madness has overtaken our normally peaceful home and Master has been more harried than usual for the time of year with work.

One evening, Master sent mouse to bed at very reasonable time, and continued to work in his study during a storm. Upstairs inside the third floor space, mouse felt the house shake like a small quake with each gust of wind. Trees bowed and stretched, scraping their branches without mercy against the wall behind where we sleep. Downstairs in the foyer, the clock chimed eleven times. Then again an hour later with twelve. Under the blankets mouse tried to listen to for the familiar sounds of letting the dog out, bolting the door after the dog returns, switching off of lights and the gentle footfalls of Master coming up the stairs. Another hour passed before she heard any of those sounds as though she was finally letting go of the stress, mouse immediately fell asleep before Master reached the bedroom threshold.

Aside from holding mouse accountable for her failings during our weekly meetings, and Master's morning oral service there hasn't been a lot of us coming together. It is different than last year, which just felt endless. It will cease be so busy and yet time will continue to march on. As a child mouse often regarded time differently with a year passing felt like forever. If someone said to her, "maybe next year," you may as well say a hundred years. As she grew older, the years didn't feel so incredibly long and eventually felt like year. There were the occasional "long" years, where time felt stretched out -- but really it still felt like a year. Now, as she gets older, the years seem far shorter. The hope of the new year fades quickly where mouse feels like she blinks and months have already passed. The seasons change and mouse will sometimes dwell on the numbers. How many articles of clothing were laundered and ironed or how many bottles of furniture polish, toilet bowl cleaner, bottles of hand soap used in the kitchen. How many of things?

Is that what a year is? Or is it measured in laughter and tears? Swats on the bottom? How many times in a year do the words, "forgive me Master," fall from her lips? How would they compare to the number of times she professes her love in an equally serious way? Of course she would hope that if there was an accounting of those times, the expressions of love, would come out way ahead. If she's painfully honest with herself she'd look at that with some great skepticism. The only thing mouse is certain about is that the number of times she's said "thank you" to him, outweighs all of the other things she might say.

If she had a word cloud for every word uttered by her, what would be the biggest word or phrase be?

Who is she kidding, it wouldn't be thank you, or proclamation of love, or begging mercy and forgiveness...Nope, it would probably FUCK (in all flavors, you, off, it), Shit, Dammit, bitch, , with all those other words and common phrases surrounding those far larger words.

Maybe that is what really need to change? 

Monday, November 6, 2017

England Swings like a Pendulum Do

Inside our home, in the main foyer stands a clock, the old fashioned type with a pendulum. Every so often it requires winding, a task that whoever notices generally performs. The clock is quite forgiving that way, even our youngest can do it. However, when the time changes it must be adjusted. Master is a stickler for clocks always displaying the correct time. This weekend on Saturday night we found ourselves alone in the house. A rare occurrence to be sure and one not to be wasted by Master who spent several hours for his amusement and delight keeping his slave quiet and bound. 

Just before drifting off to sleep, Master remarked that in the morning mouse would need to adjust the clock time (since the time change would be occurring as we slept). The clock, while having ease in how its wound, is rather finicky when it comes to adjusting the time. It chimes every 15 minutes and you cannot adjust it just before or after it chimes. 

In the morning, we woke, mouse performed her oral service to Master, and then began the shower. downstairs mouse heard the clock chime 8 times and made the mental note that it needed to be changed since the actual time was seven am. At fifteen to eight, we came downstairs and passed the clock, as it had just chimed the time wasn't right to change it. Then mouse entered the kitchen and began her morning tasks of cooking Master some breakfast, making coffee and changing the table linens, beginning the weekly preparations for lunches and dinner. 

Master was seated at the kitchen table, watching casually mouse go about her cooking routine, when he heard the clock chime nine times, and had a thought. 

"I thought I instructed you to change the clock?" 

In an awkward way mouse reminded him that she can't just be changed just before after it chimes. Of course he knows this, since he instructed mouse on the clock care, by this time she was serving him his omelette and handed him the hot sauce.  

Several minutes later, the clock chimed again as mouse was busy and secretly cursed under her breath. The longer half-hour chime, and again, mouse missed it. Short of standing there and staring at the clock mouse kept missing the time. His meal finished, and he complemented mouse on the quality of his eggs and noted that just the right amount of cream was in his coffee. It was at that moment, however the clock chimed again the incorrect time, loudly almost bellowing that it was 11am when it was only 10.

"Over my knee mouse." Master tapped his lap with his hand.

Looking at him like he was a bit nuts, mouse hesitated for a moment. and then lifted her dress. Maybe this was why he had laid out panties earlier for her to wear, because he seemed to enjoy pulling them down. Then he struck her bottom a right then left cheek alternating eight times, then paused, and gave one slap in the middle, then a few more slaps in the middle and another single one. It didn't take long for mouse to realize that he was punishing her for each incorrect chime. Then continued with the right and left, again 9 more times, followed by the pause.

By the time he reached the ten o'clock mouse was in tears and then again with the final eleven mouse was whimpering. When he told her to get up, he stood and held her for a minute as she rubbed her flaming bottom.  Feeling rather disgruntled mouse pointed out that is was unfair to be punished for the fifteen, half and three-quarter hour chimes since the clock will do those anyway regardless of the time of day.

Master arched his eyebrow at his slave, "Those were for each opportunity missed." Then he slapped her face, not terribly hard for displaying insolence toward him. "Perhaps you could simply stop the clock for an hour and set a timer, perhaps on your cellphone to remind you to restart it and just perhaps you will avoid further abuse to your already smarting bottom?"

Standing before him, mouse opened her mouth, as if to say 'oh,' but without sound as the thought sunk in. He was offering a rare solution to her pendulum dilemma and without much haste, mouse went to the grand clock, saw the timing was perfect, and stopped the swinging pendulum. Then found her phone and set the timer to remind her when to restart the clock.

As she was sliding the left-over challah turned bread pudding for dessert into the oven, the timer went off and mouse rushed to restart the clock. By this time Master was in his study working, as she could hear the click-clack of his fingers flying against the keyboard of his computer; mouse nearly unconsciously, rubbed her bottom before returning to the kitchen. An hour later the clock chimed the correct number of times  

Monday, October 30, 2017

With Doubt the Vicious Cycle

There's been a significant shift in mouse's thinking of late. In many ways she worries about these thoughts, and what others might think if she dares to say them out loud. While we exist nicely in our Master slave existence it has occurred to mouse some time ago that she's not really His slave, she's more like His property.  Master owns mouse. There's nothing wrong with saying it. 

Too many people today have their own ideas about what "slavery" is or isn't. TV and movies haven't helped with that perception, in fact it's probably coming more from them than the people actually living in it. Master will refer to mouse as his slave. That's how it should be. There are people who insist that type of dynamic is impossible to maintain 24/7 and almost seem gleeful when they hear of failures. Yet, when you consider the vanilla divorce rate is around 50% after 5-7 years of marriage, it doesn't seem to be outlandish that many Owner/property or Master/slave dynamics would also fail. It's just the reasons might be slightly different and mouse will not speculate on the whys.

There's this romantic idea too, like maybe saying the word, "slave" sounds sexier? Calling a man Master doesn't make him Dominant. Maybe the term slave shouldn't be thrown around so haphazardly? Does mouse really believe she's chattel? Yes, she does. Never before did she understand that though. Even on these pages mouse was guilty of saying that "being a slave doesn't mean a doormat." Yet, even then as she wrote that, she knew deep down that it wasn't true and that she wasn't being honest with herself. Instead she was trying to validate the confusion she was feeling about her role (summing it up wrong in the end) and the way other people usually, resulting to hyperbolic speech, imply that to mean.

We've all seen this shaming that goes on,"You can't be a slave! What if your "master" wants to sell you? What if he wants to cut off your arm? Or do you harm? What if something happens to him and you incapable of taking care of yourself anymore? You're just fine with that?" Said with a sarcastic tone, usually by a submissive woman, who cannot fathom why another woman would demean herself by being 'owned' by another person. Or of course, the other type of slave, who will assert with some authority that "my Master wants me to be highly opinionated because he values an assertive slave," What they're really saying is that their Master's idea of slavery completely aligns always with their own idea of what slavery is. May the gods have mercy on anyone who challenges her on that highly regarded opinion.

Owners don't have to make their property feel better about being property.

Yet, what mouse did mean with the "slavery doesn't mean doormat" remark, was that she still has her own ideas, her own voice and her own way of seeing things that is different from Master's way. It doesn't mean she doesn't get to bring ideas to the table or have a vote or say in what happens, but it does mean that He gets to decide if her vote or say counts. Master always gets the final decision and honestly mouse likes it that way. While mouse is completely dependent on Master, she's not going to forget how to pick out her own clothing if something should happen to him. If he does wish to wipe his shoes on her back as he would on the doormat so be it.

Even with the unpopular decisions he's made, like having a "pet" that he sees -- it took mouse forever to understand that this what His idea of slavery is and it doesn't mean that she's failed Him in any way or that she's not enough for Him. Now mouse understands it and accepts it and had she been humble enough to see that simple truth decades ago, she might have made a different choice, since a huge excuse mouse had before was that Omega always had lots of women in his life and mouse didn't want that.

Almost two decades ago, mouse was owned before and yes long-time readers know that dynamic was wrought with problems. In the end though, it was decided by the Owner (who was dying), that mouse would go to Omega as his slave/property. At the time, for a myriad of reasons and excuses that mouse doesn't exactly regret, she made the decision to not be his slave anymore -- although at the time she didn't understand that was what she did. Never once has mouse paused to consider the enormity of that choice. That was really huge. Certainly she could have gone to Omega and became His property. That was an option, since she couldn't remain her Owner's slave for obvious reasons. Yet, at that time after all the things mouse had been through she decided to leave it all behind her and mentally she was actually ready to do that. There was no or rather little blame. At that point, mouse stopped being a slave.

Eventually after many years she did return to Omega and for the most part she doesn't regret that either, save for the fact that she does wish she hadn't waited so long after we reconnected.

Marriage does slightly alter our Owner/property dynamic but it doesn't lessen the value of his ownership of mouse and it also doesn't place us on equal footing. 

Monday, October 23, 2017

Feel the Night

Sometimes it happens quickly, the seasons change but they seem slow to get the memo from mother nature, then one morning you venture outdoors and are surprised that seemingly overnight everything has changed. The final gasp before the long winter sleep. It's also that time of the year that while everything is about pumpkin, scarecrows and witches. In fact to prove the point, for a pot luck mouse baked a pumpkin pie even. 

It's also the time of year that moue finds it easiest to cook, lots of soups, stews full of fresh vegetables. It's also the time of year where the heater is on, the sweaters come out of storage, and especially at night, the fireplace has a warm glow. This is also the time of year when snuggling next to Master is the very best it can get. Lately, mouse cannot get enough of Master. Not that he minds it at all. At night mouse has taken to sleeping with her mouth close to his cock, and when she wakes instinctively she will seek it out and suck it. Sometimes he wakes, but other times he actually remains sleeping as though he's having a wonderful dream and this increases mouse's own need to pleasure him into having wonderful sexy dreams.  

Thursday, October 12, 2017

Keep this World from Dragging Me Down

Well, Good Morning!

It has been a long time since mouse last posted. Finally, some things to write about. Life is good and filled with everything life should be filled with. There's this contentment that mouse feels now each day. To say it's a nice feeling is an understatement. It's incredible.

Recently Master treated mouse to an evening out. We got dressed in our nice clothes and went out without kids and distractions. Master told mouse, while in the car, to keep her eyes on him throughout the evening and if she was good girl she would get a surprise. Over dinner mouse clearly heard the rattle of chains playing musically in her head as he guided mouse to our table. He took her menu and handed it back to the person seating us, "The lady will not require this."

After Master ordered dinner for us, we talked a little about the expectations and pleased he's been with mouse in taking extra care to follow them.  Inside mouse just shined with feelings of joy.

Our food arrived and Master offered permission for mouse to begin eating, during that time the conversation more or less stopped, aside from asking about the food. Master likes to know that mouse  is enjoying the meal, but he wants to know if it's not very good. Actually the meal was wonderful.

It was still early so we walked around a little after the meal, stopping into a book store and then popping into a dessert place to pick up some sweets for the kids on our way home. Inside the bookstore Master looked through some biographies that he would find of interest while mouse more or less milled around but never once took her eyes off him for more than a second.

After, buying the book Master wanted and stopping at the sweet shop, we decided to take a detour through a small park on our way to the garage. After making sure no one was around (it was quite late by that time) Master had mouse kneel on the cool grass in front of him.  He remarked how lovely she looked with just the light of the moon. A picture of submission.  Then he helped mouse up and we walked back to the car.

"Tell me, how did you feel displaying your submission to me in a public setting?" Master asked as he drove out of the parking area and onto the street.

After a moment mouse admitted that she hadn't thought of it as a public display, we were alone, sure it was a public area but there wasn't lots of people around.

"If I asked in the bookstore?"

With a voice just above a whisper, it might have been embarrassing.

"Even if you were just looking at me?" Master asked softly.

This is the new challenge to not worry about what others might be thinking and just let mouse be who she is, regardless of the setting. If kneeling is appropriate, mouse should feel no shame in doing so. Of course, there are few places where kneeling is appropriate, but it's the overall mindset he wishes to alter.

Going along with these thoughts instead of beginning a new post that is unclear that mouse will or not actually post; things have been really good of late. It seems at long last mouse has finally understood what her slavery is about and what it's not about. It's only about Master and His wishes and not what others do or don't as part of their dynamic. Coming to terms with this has led to far more introspective mouse on many topics. It's not that she doesn't have her thoughts but it's more that she doesn't feel the need or desire to share them.

One of her more controversial "expectations" reads as follows: mouse will admit she does not watch the news or keep up with current events. This doesn't mean that she doesn't "hear" about news, because she does but it means that most news stories are filtered through Master. He doesn't offer a slant to it. An example might be the news recently about what occurred in Las Vegas which mouse learned about through Twitter and heard about while running errands. A simple text to Master, which he replied, "there was a shooting from high up in Mandalay Bay hotel on Sunday evening on a music festival that left 58 people dead and injured more than 500. The shooter is dead but not counted."

So from his text reply mouse got the who, what, where, when and how, but no why. When she asked about why, his reply was "It is unknown at this time." When she asked again, a few days later his response was the same.  He doesn't speculate (as mouse has seen others do), but repeats things he knows to be true based on evidence. If a reason for the bloodshed is uncovered he will let mouse know. The other bit of news of that day was just as sad to mouse. Master came home and said, "Tom Petty has died, or is dying. He suffered a heart attack and is on life support. There was some confusion earlier with news outlets reporting his passing prematurely but there is little hope for a recovery."

Music has always been very important to mouse, it's always on in our home, in the car, and it keeps mouse feeling centered when the world is going mad. Tom Petty (and The Heartbreakers) were part of mouse's soundtrack. He never lost his relevant edge, when others were doing their greatest hits tours, Tom Petty was still making fresh music that went along with the time.

For right now, before mouse closes, she would like send some loving thoughts to the people of Northern California (her home state and especially her former hometown). Stay strong, be smart and stay safe. The only thing you can't really replace is yourself. Everything else, while it might take work, can be replaced.

Goodnight friends,

Saturday, September 2, 2017

I'll Stand Before the God of Song

We had been traveling a lot this summer and seen a lot of amazing things. We ended up at the lake for the eclipse, where it wouldn't be as dramatic as it was elsewhere but still a respectable percent. Coming home, which we absolutely had to do, we didn't consider one thing, traffic. The traffic was just awful as many people were trying to get to where they too needed to be. Our favorite animal friendly motel had a no vacancy sign. Then the AC in the SUV decided to just stop working and it was hot. Master made the decision to pull into a shady rest stop where we could stretch our legs. The kids were miserable, and everyone was just cranky. He napped on a bench for a time, just relaxing for the monster drive he knew was in the future. We again hit the road, by Master's calculations, we might be home by four am, but he was unsure about the traffic. Several accidents slowed us down. The sun was beating down on us and everyone was just pissed. Kids were whining the dog was panting, Master was grouchy and so was mouse. Just as the sun began to thankfully go down mouse turned on the radio, searching at this point for anything.

Leonard Cohen was a writer, songwriter, poet and somewhat of a singer. Honestly, mouse wasn't a huge fan of his music but when a radio station actually came in, mouse wasn't going to fussy about the music played. At worse, it might be background noise.  At first, mouse didn't recognize the song played on that oppressively hot night, then the first words were heard..."Well, i heard there was a secret chord. That David played and it pleased the lord, but you don't really care for music, do you?"

For the next seven minutes or so, the car fell quiet, maybe it was the raspy voice or the tone, or lack of singer quality that kept us hanging on the every word sang? Whatever the reason when the song finished Master turned the volume down. With each passing mile we silently reminded ourselves that it was a mile closer to home. We stopped a few times at a fast food place or rest stop that looked patrolled. At 11pm the temperatures finally dipped below 80 and we felt like rejoicing.

The kids finally fell asleep and mouse struggled to stay awake for Master. If he was going to suffer through this drive from hell, she might as well suffer along with him. Like a sign of solidarity.

The accidents slowed us down and it was long after sunrise before we arrived home. Master said to leave the bags until later and we went into the sweltering hot house. Before we left, we turned the AC off.  Good grief.  At least that started up nicely and after a hour the house was noticeably cooler. We were too tired to move but mouse managed to make some toast and a cup of weak tea for Master, who did need to eat something. Since we drove at night, we missed all our favorite road fruit stands so we had nothing in the house to eat.

After an hour or so, Master went to bed, where he remained for several hours and completely undisturbed. Because the kids had slept mouse felt she should not leave them completely unsupervised so she stayed awake. Eventually she grabbed her set of keys and took the kids to grocery shop (yes, they balked because no one wanted to see a car ever again). At the market mouse struggled to keep her focus. What did we need? Some eggs, wheat bread, coffee, some lunch meat, salad...

Just enough to keep us going for one more day.

Wednesday, June 14, 2017

Sleepless Night

Late one evening recently before mouse had her latest in a long line of revelations, and felt the need, although she hadn't made the connection yet, to be extra pleasing. After removing his shoes, mouse kissed his feet. Now, no one was around at that moment, and it largely went unnoticed even by Master. Still thre was this strong feeling that she needed to atone for something she didn't understand.

Master and mouse went through the rest of the evening in relative silence, which to be honest isn't unusual since we have an exceptionally noisy household. Later, Master called mouse to him and made use of he mouth, and told her she was a good girl. After a bit of rough use, mouse settled, anchored at Master's feet.

There's been a huge shift in mouse's thinking lately, seeing so clearly the flaws in previous lines of thought. Mistakes that cannot be undone.

Another step taken in the journey.