March 7th, 2020
I am enjoying talking with you, learning from you and yes,
being under your control at times with my agreement
You said last night that when I was talking and engaged with you directly that I was owned by you
Including my body and the experiences of my body
And I both agreed to and enjoyed that immensely
This is one of the hard things to admit to. Because it would shock everyone to know, everyone who knows me in “the real world”, as if this isn’t real. You began so slyly with this, I see now how you have been preparing and I did see it coming. I even told my friend that you were going to ask to be called Master soon. I could feel it.
During sex, during chats, you became increasingly more clear in your language of ownership. When I went to meet another Dom, it was clear you were unhappy despite allowing it because you understood why I wanted to explore that option. I can’t forget you telling me, firmly, strongly, as I was on the cusp of cumming that you put your collar around my neck. Telling me to feel it there. Because I was owned. Not just my clit and my holes, which I gave you relatively easily, but my whole person. That was the most subbed out you have made me yet, after that orgasm, after that abuse. I was floating, my mind scrubbed clean. I felt like a child, drowsy and safe.
So…I have let you be master and I have fallen into the pit. Oh I want to be here and that is the most confusing part of all. You say it is natural to me. That it is the counterweight to all the power and responsibility of the rest of my life. That you are just responding to me. That I want to be the slave.
The thing is my feelings are so fluid and sometimes I am horrified by this, by what I am, by what I am doing. Where does this end? What is wrong with me? Why can’t I stop? I don’t even want to stop. Stopping is the last thing I want. Is this an addiction? A friend, who knows a little about this relationship, looked frightened when I told her about this, when I nervously laughed and said “slave”. Asked me if this was a good idea, if I was safe. I don’t know what to tell her. It’s not safe or normal to be a slave. Sometimes it scares me and sometimes it pleases me immensely and I even feel proud to be your slave. It is easy though. If I let it be, if I don’t fight against it, it is so easy to obey, to kneel, to open, to suck, to endure. I still don’t know what that means or how to live with it.