Out of the way
It's a busy day
I've got things on my mind
Reading fiction, even within the lifestyle that we live is a dodgy prospect, the women always seem to require forceful control or to conquered, the Men are always perfect and they usually always contain platitudes about safe words. The collar the woman wears is usually reserved for play, or worn proudly all the time (depending on the book). Master doesn't care collars; those outward displays of slavery or Ownership.
Still sometimes it makes you wonder about what you might be missing out on? Staring at the flashing cursor, mouse feels a deep need to share something but also hesitant. To really put those thoughts out there. That feeling you get internally knowing that you're thoroughly owned by another. While running errands the thought humiliates you -- that just hours or even minutes before, you gladly debased yourself before the one you call Master. It is like a collar that you cannot take off, your body marked by Him. Walking through the place you dwell, you feel the heat of being an outsider in your own town. You are marked. Owned. Possessed.
Eyes that fall on you for even moment, you refuse to meet their glance for fear they will learn of your secret. We don't live in a world where subservience is accepted (unless it's a man bending the knee to a woman). A simple google search will reveal that female submission is often heavily tied to religious fervor. A few news articles, speak of the ritual of being a godly helpmeet, even branching out into Christian Domestic Discipline (CDD). What floats their boat is fine, well and good, but there was always that itch that seemed just out of reach, except from Master.
Public sojourns are often humiliating for mouse, scantily clothed beneath a flimsy dress or skirt, a cardigan sweater keeping her erect nipples barely visible (let alone the nipple rings). The raincoat provides more coverage, but more often that also means less clothing underneath. Still, this was precisely what was needed. The idea of choice slowly stripped away. Like sanding a piece of old wood until it's smooth and eventually useful. The desire to give up control completely and the fear of not having any personal control felt confusing most of the time. The internal hum that this need was wrong worried mouse -- yet in those moments of letting the need to control go, completely, felt so right. Master knew it straight from the beginning.
Over the past couple years slowly we've been moving toward something unseen. At first even though mouse had begged for Him to be Master, He offered "outs". Like a get out of slavery free card or several of them. When she deeply displeased Him, especially when she knew she could be better but chosen the wrong path. He reminded her of choice and asked if anything had changed, before getting on with the punishment. More recently He's stopped asking. It wasn't obvious at first. His wording changed during the last punishment, it went from "do you understand" or "have you changed your mind," with the former being a real question and the latter, dripping with sarcasm, morphed into "You are fully aware."
This shift didn't cause angst but felt more comforting and right.
Still sometimes it makes you wonder about what you might be missing out on? Staring at the flashing cursor, mouse feels a deep need to share something but also hesitant. To really put those thoughts out there. That feeling you get internally knowing that you're thoroughly owned by another. While running errands the thought humiliates you -- that just hours or even minutes before, you gladly debased yourself before the one you call Master. It is like a collar that you cannot take off, your body marked by Him. Walking through the place you dwell, you feel the heat of being an outsider in your own town. You are marked. Owned. Possessed.
Eyes that fall on you for even moment, you refuse to meet their glance for fear they will learn of your secret. We don't live in a world where subservience is accepted (unless it's a man bending the knee to a woman). A simple google search will reveal that female submission is often heavily tied to religious fervor. A few news articles, speak of the ritual of being a godly helpmeet, even branching out into Christian Domestic Discipline (CDD). What floats their boat is fine, well and good, but there was always that itch that seemed just out of reach, except from Master.
Public sojourns are often humiliating for mouse, scantily clothed beneath a flimsy dress or skirt, a cardigan sweater keeping her erect nipples barely visible (let alone the nipple rings). The raincoat provides more coverage, but more often that also means less clothing underneath. Still, this was precisely what was needed. The idea of choice slowly stripped away. Like sanding a piece of old wood until it's smooth and eventually useful. The desire to give up control completely and the fear of not having any personal control felt confusing most of the time. The internal hum that this need was wrong worried mouse -- yet in those moments of letting the need to control go, completely, felt so right. Master knew it straight from the beginning.
Over the past couple years slowly we've been moving toward something unseen. At first even though mouse had begged for Him to be Master, He offered "outs". Like a get out of slavery free card or several of them. When she deeply displeased Him, especially when she knew she could be better but chosen the wrong path. He reminded her of choice and asked if anything had changed, before getting on with the punishment. More recently He's stopped asking. It wasn't obvious at first. His wording changed during the last punishment, it went from "do you understand" or "have you changed your mind," with the former being a real question and the latter, dripping with sarcasm, morphed into "You are fully aware."
This shift didn't cause angst but felt more comforting and right.
2 comments:
Love this post Mouse, fiction does not always portray the reality and we all practice ttwd in our own unique way. I love what you said about the unseen collar. Sounds like positive changes are happening:)
Hugs
Roz
Writing the fiction I want to write is often in conflict with expectations of what the publisher wants. I'd love to write about flawed Doms who struggle, subs who know they are submissive without others dictating it to them, and scenes that don't go to plan. Self-publishing becomes necessary to fulfil some of my wishes as a writer. One thing I've never attempted to write is M/s relationships in a contemporary setting - historical genre has its uses!
When I'm not Jaye, I write Magical Realism, which at least means I counter the 'that's not real' comments by pointing out the magical part is the fantasy of fiction.
So much goes on behind the unseen collar!
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