Kitten's Contemplations

Collaring....

2012-02-15T10:52:00.000-06:00

I was collared. A ring of steel lay about my neck and I was bound to him beyond the confines of a wedding ring or marriage certificate.

Now that I am no longer under that collar, I find myself afraid to be under another. Its like playing with fire, far more edgy than the cutting and burning and bleeding that I delight in every weekend. So when Daddy brought it up.....

It started out as something someone mentioned to him and he was curious what it meant. We talked a little and read some about a Collar of Consideration.... Then yesterday, he mentioned getting one... Making one.. I panicked and could have possibly overreacted... a lot.... I'm terrified by the thought now... And my response was so intense, that he has no desire to bring the subject up again for a while.... Why am I afraid?

What a weekend!

2012-02-13T10:45:00.000-06:00

Doesn't my weekend look like it was fun? It was...

We attended our second play party at Xpressions. We scened twice. The first time was a nice little spanking over a bench. A nice little warm up, a nice little touch.... I wore this cute little grey and pink business skirt and a grey vest with a sheer black shirt underneath, perfect to show off the sexy red and black bra I bought for Daddy for V-day. Plus my pink and black 4 inch heels... We left the bra and little underskirt on for most of the scene...

After, we gave ourselves some time to cool down. We waited on a space to clear.. It didn't look like it was going too... but then... Daddy asked some people that were just hanging out to move so that we could.... Well you can see the picture.... It was fucking fantastic... Add to it the fact that it stings (like a BITCH) anytime I move my neck... And well.. You can imagine that I've been in subspace for a while now.... Everytime I start to drop I/we do something to make it hurt again and down down down I go.

Yesterday we spent some time working to help move Xpressions from the old location (oh the party on Saturday night was the last one in that space, what a way to say goodbye) to the new, much much bigger space. It felt really really good to be involved in my community. So my next post will be about just that... Submissive involvement in the community....

Big Changes for a Little Girl

2012-02-01T08:46:00.000-06:00

I took a vacation from my blog as I took a vacation from the lifestyle. I've been playing vanilla for the past month or so as I reorient my bearings in life. School has restarted, and while I planned on taking 6 classes this semester, I quickly realized that was not at all feasible. I dropped two, and i'm much happier, much less overwhelmed.

Devin and I have had a pretty normal relationship, and vanilla sex. With the natural ebb and flow of dominance and submission in personality that most couples experience. A mild spanking here and there. With the exception of our Daddy-little girl-ness. I flow into and out of that state with a easiness around him, as I am his trusting little girl, looking up to him for my needs and desires to be met. Sometimes he is wrapped around my little finger, sometimes I am wrapped around his. He spoils me, its true, yet i seem to manage to spoil him as well...

So I was avoiding submission, avoiding the lifestyle as a whole, for a number of reasons. I shut off my masochistic side (with great force and pain) believing that it clouded my thinking and that it was unsafe. Devin is new to that lifestyle being more than a fantasy, so I was scared of having to be the one to teach, unsure how to teach the mechanics of being dominant (as I am submissive), scared of being the one he learned on (because I might get hurt and because he might learn and then seek to grow further with another), and afraid that he would see what the lifestyle, as well as my submissive self, as to offer and decide that it was not what he wanted, or worst be disgusted by it and disgusted by my desire for it. I also have spent the last two years feeling overwhelmed, even conquered by, the lifestyle and my own submission. I have given up my own goals and desires because they did not match with those of my dominant (despite his protests), given up my personality to be something for someone else out of love and utter devotion. Devotion that I am still finding it hard to unwind from (thus being so internal enslaved).

Saturday night Devin and I attended a party. His first ever, my first in several months (maybe a year?). Everyone was really welcoming to him, and I found myself at home again. Kinda like when you move away from your parent's house as a young adult and then visit your old room and old bed and feel so comfy and all the old memories come flooding back. It was like that. Made me realize how much I missed my kink family, and more than that, how much I missed my kink self. That submission really does run through my soul and it is inescapable, and not dependent on the guy i'm with. Talk about self-confirmation.

Master of Reason was there, was actually the one that sent us the invitation to come. It wasn't nearly as awkward as it could have been, and as it probably sounds to everyone else.

So Devin and I hung out and watched a few scenes, then did a little spanking of our own. It was nice, a great warm up for more heavy play, a re-introduction to my friend sub-space and my friend-enemy sub-drop. We relaxed a bit and then something strange happened.

Devin like invited Master of Reason to scene with me.... I was like what the hell? And then had to step-in and go, okay, this is fine, but ONLY with like heavy negotiations first. I had conditions. I didn't want something so sexual, so heavy, so... humiliation based as I know is Master of Reason... forte? I also demanded that Devin was involved. And... well... I got my wish.

Which is how I found myself chained to a bench getting flogged, pinched and pleasantly tortured by my old Master and new not-so-vanilla boyfriend.

For you...

2012-01-02T15:13:00.000-06:00

You're asleep in my bed, curled around pillows, snuggled under blankets. I just couldn't nap. Too many things circling in my head. I envy your peacefullness, not just now as you sleep, but in your every day life. You never panic, never show worry. You center yourself and become an unshakable, unmovable object. I guess its the balance thing. You help calm my quakes of emotional turmoil that I always seem to be in. Even as I admire your ability to do it, I worry that it won't last. See? constant. You inspire me, heal me, give me the freedom to be everything and anything that I am. Its amazing. I've never ever ever been happier.

You are my hero, superhuman. Fighting for me, fighting for us, here to save me just in time.

'Cause without you I'm a disaster
(The moment you go)
And your my ever after
(Just thought you should know)
'Cause I need to know your answer
(Just say you'll stay with me)
I want you to say your gonna stay with me
(Just say you'll stay with me)
I die every day that you're away from me

If the world ceased to spin,
You could start it again
with just one smile
If the seas turn to sand,
With the wave of your hand it would rain for miles
But the thought of you gone
Makes everything wrong in my life
So stay right here, right now

New beginnings...

2011-12-29T13:30:00.000-06:00

Well, guys, I know that I haven't posted her recently. There have been a lot of big changes for this little kitten, changes that have overwhelmed my senses, left me breathless, and unwilling to put so many chaotic thoughts down to this electronic canvas.

I posted before that MoR and I have ended our d/s relationship, as well as any relationship in general. After living together for nearly 2 months in a situation that became more and more awkward and uncomfortable, I knew it was time to move out and move on. So that's what i've been doing.

First was a new boyfriend. We'll call him Devin. 36. Blonde hair, blue eyes, sweetest smile I have seen on the face of an adult in my life. Tall and strong, with a beautiful heart and a deep soul. Playful and young for his age, yet the dominant daddy type without trying. He just is. There's still a huge amount of ground to cover, but this time feels different than anytime ever before. I'm not going into this thinking that he is perfect. There is no idolatry. Just an amazing amount of love. I know that I can still function without him around, i'm not losing myself. Long time readers will understand that this is rare for me. Usually I am so lost in a relationship, I abandon myself completely. Seems I am finally learning a good balance. And he helps with that. He's an artist and a musician. Very energy focused and spiritual without the focus on religion. And He makes my body sing.

I'm all moved into my new place. Mostly unpacked, except for some books that need a shelf and clothes that need hangers. Spent my first night here last night. First night in a new place is always a little strange. New sounds in the house, knowing your way around. Devin spent the night with me, after helping me move all day. It was sweet, if slightly domesticated.

Work is going well, the semester ended well, raising my GPA up several points. Looking forwarded to graduating at the end of this one. It will be a bittersweet relief.

What am i looking for?

2011-12-14T04:49:00.000-06:00

I've been asked a lot recently what I am looking for in a relationship, in a man, in a Dominant. I suppose this happens when you become single and start looking for something new. I've been trying to give it some thought. And here's what i've come up with

My man will be a man of contradiction. Kind and caring but strong and strict.
My man will be romantic. The kind of guy to bring me a flower or surprise me with a kiss on my lunch break at work.
My Dominant will be able to take the upper hand with me. Take me, control me, discipline me. And care for me, cherish me. Love me

I want passion. I want to be devoured. I want to be seen and taken at my most vulnerable. To be swallowed whole and spit back out as something more...

Chivalry shouldn't be dead. Doors should be opened. Sweetness found. Its okay to pamper a girl, make love to her, bathe her. Celebrated.

I want a family. I want a home. It doesn't have to be traditional. It shouldn't be vanilla. But it should be the safest place in the world for me.

Foodie Blog

2011-11-30T13:35:00.001-06:00

So I started a new blog entitled Kitchen Conquests and you can find it here. Its my foodie blog, mostly recipes that I have tried and loved, as well as kitchen tips.

For the future

2011-11-27T21:00:00.001-06:00

Though I have posted some thoughts here, a conversation with another submissive, I have yet to post anything personal. I think I have been a little afraid to go down that path at the moment.

See, part of the reason why my relationship ended was negativity. He says that I am too negative, always depressed, never happy. There is some truth to that. It is not that I am never happy. I just have a hard time expressing that happiness. And with him, he was my safe space. I felt comfortable enough to release my frustrations, my fears.

So despite the end of that relationship, I am working on expressing my joy, my thankfulness, my inner smiles...
I also plan on using this blog as a way of getting to know myself better, so you can expect to see some personality profiles coming in the future, lists of goals (like my bucket list bellow). Exploring myself as a woman, as a submissive...

Bucket List

2011-11-25T20:56:00.001-06:00

1. Get a tattoo. COMPLETED

2. Have a piece of my writingpublished.

3. Laugh until i cry.

4. Ride a motorcycle. COMPLETED

5. Ride a gondola in Venice.

6. Sell something i created.

7. Travel to 3 new states (missouri,colorado, texas, kansas, and new mexico don't count)

8. Visit a national park.

9. Go to an amazing concert. COMPLETED

10. Make a true best friend.

11. Host a diner party.

12. Meet someone famous.

13. Visit another country.

14. Fly.

15. See an ocean.

16. Learn to ride a bike

17. Take a cooking class.

18. Find myself beautiful.

19. Go canoeing…

20. Make a difference in someone'slife.

21. Go tubing

22. Get my degree.

23. Stay up all night to watch thesunrise.

24. Make humus. COMPLETED

25. Stay at a bed and breakfast.

26. Take a single tail withoutfreaking out.

27. Go horseback riding along thebeach.

28. Forget to worry for one day.

29. Learn to ski.

30. Act in a play.

31. Learn how to bootblack. COMPLETED

32. Get involved with a charityorganization.

33. Become fluent in French.

34. Fight for something I believein.

35. Make OJ from scratch. COMPLETED

36. 1 semester of straight A's.

37. Win a game of Chess withoutcheating.

38. Learn to play the guitar

39. Go to a jazz club in NewOrleans’ French Quarter.

40. Learn to Salsa

41. Get copy of the Art of FrenchCooking.

42. Cook at least 15 recipes forAFC.

43. Vote for President. COMPLETED

44. Create a self Portrait.

45. Eat Sushi. COMPLETED

46. Scuba dive.

47. Go on a cruise.

48. Learn to speak another language.

49. Buy a Steel boned corset.

50. Visit the Wreckage of theTitanic.

51. Ride in a hot air balloon.

52. Swim with dolphins

53. Visit: the San Diego Zoo

54. The Grand Canyon, Az

55. The Northern Lights

56. Big Basin Redwoods State Park

57. Yosemite National Park

58. Stonehenge

59. Parthenon

60. Sistine Chapel

61. Art Institute of Chicago

D/s vs M/s

2011-11-17T23:25:00.001-06:00

this is part of a conversation I am having with another submissive... Just thought I would share it here..

D/s vs M/s

You are correct about D/s being a bit more open to the submissive's point of view. But more than that... I find that Masters (especially those that use Ms as an excuse to take advantage of someone or abuse them) are less concerned with their submissive's needs and well being. They might care for the basic needs of a slave the way that one would meet the basic needs of a tolerated pet or need vehicle. Food, shelter, etc. but they usually have very little consideration for a slaves emotional or mental desires. They may choose not to talk to a slave, or have sex with a slave, or allow the slave to come, ever, etc. They may limit the slaves ability to contact with others, even the Master himself via eye contact restricts, speech restrictions, what have you. Slaves are expected to offer up no argument, no sign of protest at this kind of treatment. Their dreams are not taken into consideration. They are property, typically no more cherished than anything else of use in the Master's world. And if they are no longer of use, they are no longer a slave. Not all M/s relationships are so cut an dry. Many Masters show affection or loyalty or love toward a slave. The motivation here, if you ask a Master who will answer honestly, is about the Master's happiness, or his pleasure. Some will say that a girl behaves better with affection, or is more loyal, or whatever. The Ms relationship is less about control, and more about consideration and motivation.

D/s.... B.always says that a true Dominant has the hardest job because He is always willing to put the needs of His submissive before His own. Yes, He holds the control in the relationship, and His submissive works to please Him. Her mind is always on Him. It is because of that that He must always keep her in mind. There is exchange of love and caring that goes both ways, instead all the focus being on one person. There are always varying degrees of control in D/s relationships, as different submissives have different needs. Dominants that are worth their salt (as He is), increase or decrease the amount of control they take in the submissive's life to allow the submissive to reach her true potential. It is the duty of a Dominant to seek out submissives that have great potential with in them to be the best submissive for that Dominant.

2011-11-15T01:10:00.000-06:00

I am no longer collared. No longer owned. No longer his submissive...

We split up last night. I took my collar off about 30 minutes ago. I feel naked.

I won't say this was a mutual decision. But, despite the fact that he called that final shot, and i'm the one in shock, but i think we both felt it coming, both knew neither of us were happy. I just didn't want to admit it, wanted to believe that it could be fixed.

This all being said. I'm shutting down this blog. It was, after all, "Sweet Submission in the House of Reason" and I am not longer a submissive in the House of Reason. I WILL be keeping the web address, kslaveconfessions.blogspot.com, I will just be revamping my blog page over the next couple of weeks, and probably removing several posts.

I need a fresh start.

Godfather Story

2011-10-24T12:10:00.000-05:00

So I was asked via formspring if there were more chapters of the Godfather story that I had been posting here.

Currently, I have not added another chapter to that story. Between school and work, I haven't been able to really just sit down and write. It is something I have been writing on for a couple of years now. As I write another chapter or section, I will be sure to post it here. Hearing that someone cares about it, makes me want to write more too!

xoxoxo
k

Untitled Story Part 5

2011-08-26T00:14:00.000-05:00

Bill’s house wasn’t far outside of the city, but it set far enough back from the main road to be considered secluded and the property was surrounded by trees. I had never been there before. It was beautiful.

We drove through the break in the trees down a long drive way. The property was well cared for, manicured lawns with beautiful spring flowers. The house itself was two stories but seemed to sprawl among the trees, like a god among followers. I counted three balconies, a wraparound porch, and a dozen windows at least before we pulled up to the front of the house.

I climbed out of the car as the driver started unloading my few bags from the trunk. My wardrobe was sparse, and I only owned four pairs of shoes. The boxes from my apartment, full of my art supplies and books, had been delivered yesterday. I had more bottles of paint and rolls of canvas than articles of clothing. It wasn’t that I didn’t care, but there had always been more important things to pay for.

The grand double doors swung open and a tall, thin, stern looking woman stepped between them. The dark, polished wood framed her, made her look more intimidating, as if that were necessary. She looked to be in her mid- to late-forties, though she was mostly free of wrinkles. She reminded me of my prep school headmistress in her tight black pencil skirt, white collared blouse, and tight bun. The only striking difference between the two was the shoes. Mistress Hepburn would never wear 4 inch heels.

My impression of her softened when she smiled warmly at me, and extended a hand. “Ah, Miss Bryanna Campbell, how are you? How was the drive?” She asked as I took her hand. Before I could answer she started speaking again “How silly of me! I didn’t introduce myself. I’m Julianna Hardgrove. I was Bill’s personal assistant, and I run most things here. I’ll be guiding you through the conditions of your godfather’s will, and making sure you are comfortable during your stay. Your things have already been taken to your rooms.”

“Rooms?” I managed to interject,

“Oh yes. You have a bedroom-where your boxes of books and pictures are- and an art studio- where your paint, canvas, and clay are. Your clothes and things-” she glanced disapprovingly at the two shaggy duffel bags on the floor “will be taken up to your room while I give you a tour of the estate.”

A young man stepped into my vision, taking my luggage away. Julianna stepped back from the doorway, giving me room to enter the large foyer. The floor was red hardwood and bare of any rug or carpet. The walls were a warm cream color. In the middle of the far wall was a grand stair way- made out of the same wood as the flooring- framed on either side by two hallways. A round, black iron chandelier hung low, heavy and looming, above the only furniture. The table was place in the center of the room, in front of the staircase. It was massive, carved wood, about waist height, and about 4 foot long. I studied it for a moment. It felt odd to have such a table in an entry way like this, with no chairs. Perhaps it was used as a buffet table for an event.

I realize that Julianna was waiting for me. My mouth had been hanging open for a few minutes as I studied my new home; the boy had long since gone up the stairs with my bags. I felt my face flush under her gaze.

She was still smiling at me. “Bill never showed you his home, I am guessing. Many of the guests have the same reaction the first time they attend an event. You will get used to it. This, of course, is the foyer.”

She lead me through a door on the right hand side of the foyer, into a plush living room. The carpet was black, and even through my shoes I could tell it was thick. The couch, loveseat, chairs, and ottomans were all deep chocolate leather. Again the walls were painted cream, but now they were dotted with dark wood shelves holding pictures and other objects. There was a large bay window with a bench made of the same leather as the furniture on the western wall. On the eastern wall, across from the loveseat next to the door we entered by, as a TV taller than I was, and at least as long. The northern wall was consumed by a fireplace built out of dark red brick.

“This is the living room, of course. There’s a half bath through that door.” She pointed before turning and leaving the room. I trailed behind her during the tour, feeling like I needed a map. She showed me where several guest rooms were located, the kitchens, servant quarters, two offices, a gigantic library, and past a door that lead downstairs to basement that contained still more rooms. Finally, we went back up the stairs and down the long hallway to the bedrooms.

“There are two rooms left to show you, your room and Bill’s room. This room,” she opened the door and walked in “will be yours.”

The room she showed me was a spacious yet sparsely decorate bedroom, bigger than my entire apartment. There were two sections to the room, with two doors leading off from the main space. The first section was meant to be a social area, with a dark red loveseat and matching round sitting chair, separated by a black and glass square coffee table. There was a tall lamp in one corner, shining on an overstuffed, red lounge chair. The carpet was once again black. The walls here were primer white, instead of the pretty cream color from downstairs. The other half of the room was the biggest surprise of the tour, and a comforting piece of my childhood home. The carpet was a plush deep red, with large flowers in light shades of pink, yellow, and blue.

I turned and stared and Julianna. “The carpet… It was in my room growing up… How…?”

“Your godfather, I think, always planned for you to be here someday. This room has been unoccupied with that carpet for many years. The walls are white so you can choose what color to paint them, add your… personal touches.”

The rest of the room contained a large canopied bed, coverings to match the carpet, and pillows matching the flowers. Bags and boxes of my belongings were stacked neatly in one corner of the empty space. Again the walls were primed white, ready for my paint.

“The door on the left is your closet. I took the liberty of providing some clothes for various events, but you can look at those later. The other door is to your personal bathroom. Bill’s room… I will give you the key to. You can explore it in your own personal time. Nothing has been touched since he left the last time. It is your decision what to do with the contents. For now, take time to unpack and relax. Dinner is 3 hours from now; someone will come escort you to the dining room. I suggest you take a moment to clean up and change into something… more suitable for dinner guests.” She looked at my clothes again with a sour look, before turning to leave and shutting me my room.

I collapsed on the bed, suddenly very tired. The trip and tour had exhausted me.

Untitled Story Part 4

2011-08-25T18:35:00.000-05:00

Lying in my bed that night, my usual fantasy was invaded by a familiar face. I could see myself clearly in my head, pinned to a bed by my wrists, legs opened wide to make room for the man in between them. He was fucking me so hard; the headboard was slamming into the wall. One of his hands twisted in my hair, pulling my head aside so that his teeth could sink into the tender flesh of my neck. The hand he freed dug into his back and I arched, my orgasm tearing a scream from my lips, triggering his own release. As his head tilted up, I saw the face of my godfather, staring back at me.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

A pretty young woman with soft, loose, red curls down to the middle of her back, green eyes the color of jade that seemed lost and glossed over stared back at me from the bathroom mirror. Her skin was pale with just a trace of freckles over the nose and cheeks. She curved at the bust and hips, not skinny, a little bit of a stomach, but it sat in the right places. Her breasts swelled noticeably in the tight black tank top as she took a deep breath.

I was knocked out of my stupor by the buzzing of my cell phone. I looked at the little screen and pressed the ignore button. Erik had been calling me 25 times a day since I broke up with him two days ago. He was swearing that I was just stressed because of Bill’s death. In truth, I had been wanting to break up with him for a week before the accident. The funeral simply postponed things a little. I had been bored. Erik was cute, but dumb, and there was something missing, other than intelligence.

My bags were packed. I was subletting my apartment for six-months. I was still going to work. I taught art lessons to twelve year olds every afternoon. The pay wasn’t great, but it gave me time to sculpt and paint and I got free use of the equipment. Sculpting was my favorite form of self-expression. I released a lot of tension beating the dough, rolling it. I could let myself go, finally relax as I sat at the pottery wheel, soft clay spinning under my hands.

I finished my nightly routine and crawled into my bed for the last time, snuggling between the soft sheets. I let my mind wander back through my memories of my godfather. I pictured his face, so vivid after my dreams. A strong jaw line and soft smile surrounded by dark blonde hair, falling in waves to his shoulders. Light blue eyes that were always touched by happiness. At 6’2”, he was over half a foot taller than me, and his broad frame had no trouble scooping me up and tossing me over his shoulder, even after I had grown up.

My parents were out on a date night. I was 14, curled up in his lap, in the middle of watching a scary movie. I shrieked and threw my arms around him, burying my face in his neck, as the scene climaxed. He chuckled, but ran his hands down my back, soothing me, as the woman on the TV screamed in her final moments. I breathed his scent in deep, no longer interested in the movie, instead trying to figure out why and how my body was reacting to this man who could have been my uncle. I clung like that to him for a while, and he didn’t bother to move me. He only shifted slightly as my chest pressed against him, my developing body in one of his big t-shirts and panties.

He was as old as my father, but never appeared like that to me. He rode motorcycles. We had the same taste in music. He snuck me out to go see my first concert when I was sixteen. He was in dark jeans, a Van Halen t-shirt and his black leather jacket. When I climbed out my window and on the back of his bike, he surprised me with my own jacket, a smaller one, matching his. We rode and I clung to him for dear life, but laughing, happy. Every male there, young and old, looked at us that night. My high heeled boots, short skirt, and low cut shirt attracted a lot of attention, I’m sure, but my eyes were for Bill.

During the concert, we were caught up in the crowd, and he was every bit the teenager that I was. We were dancing, cheering, like the rest of the world didn’t exist, as if the band was performing for us alone. I danced close to him, and he reacted to me as he would to any woman that he cared for. He pulled me close, running his hands down my back, eyes only for me. His fingers ran through my curls and gently gripped the back of my head. He kissed me softly then, on the lips. His eyes closed as I kissed him back, internally surprise, but not complaining in the least bit. My mouth opened to him and his tongue responded, sliding between my lips. The song ended and he pulled away, kissing me on the forehead. It never happened again, and we never spoke of it, but it was the conformation that I had always wanted.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Untitled Story Part 3

2011-08-24T16:04:00.000-05:00

Mr. Edward Grey was a handsome man. He was at least 6’4” with dark brown hair that had just started to go gray. His dark green eyes sparkled when he smiled at me as I entered his office. His suit was even tailored to fit him perfectly.

“Ah, Miss Rogers, it’s nice to finally meet you. Your godfather spoke of you often. And you are just as lovely as he said.” His hand gripped mine, firm and warm.

I smiled back at him. “I wasn’t aware that Bill even had a will, or planned to leave me anything. I know his sister has a couple of kids…” I shrugged as I trailed off.

“Yes, I met with Olivia a few days ago. Bill thought her children were spoiled, and I don’t think he got along with his sister very well. She was rather upset that Bill only left her a few of the stocks in his company. But down to our business.” He motioned me into the chair across from his at the huge oak desk.

“Other than the stocks that he left to Olivia,” he started as I took my seat, “Bill left you everything.”

My jaw dropped open. “Excuse me?”

“He never married, or had children, and said he looked at you as one of his own, for the most part. He left you his entire estate. House and property, his company, a fairly large trust, vehicles, stocks and investments. It’s quite a large sum of money. His company has a board that pretty much runs everything. He set that up a year or two ago, when he realized that you would rather be an artist than sell model airplanes and cars. There are a few conditions to your inheritance. If you fail to complete the conditions, the sum of the inheritance gets donated to charity, and the board gains full control of the company. Your inheritance in this case would be the same as Olivia’s.”

“Conditions?” I asked, somewhat shakily. I was still completely blown away. His entire estate?? “What kind of conditions?”

“You must live in his house for at least six months, without selling or disposing of the contents. There are a few houseguests already there, or planning on arriving soon. These guests must be allowed to stay. You are two host three functions in his place, one every other month of your stay. The instructions for these are with the staff at the house. There are also conditions on your behavior and attire for these events with the staff. While you are living in the house, the staff will treat you a certain way, teach you how things are run. I don’t have the details here. You are free to leave at anytime you wish. But if you stay, there are no negotiations on any part of the conditions. Do you understand?” He looked over the desk at me, a calm expression on his face, waiting.

I blinked a few times, trying to get my thoughts in order. Houseguests? What kind of functions? What the hell? “Why….?” My voice trails off…

“It is what he requested. My secretary has the address for you at her desk. She or I will check in on you, occasionally, and provide an allowance according to the will. You have two weeks to make arrangements and show up at the given address. You may continue at your job, and transportation will be provided should you choose to.”

He was obviously finished with me. He rose as I did, shook my hand at the door, and shut it firmly behind me. I was left, staring, mouth slightly agape, at his beautiful secretary. Her red lips smiled, and she handed me a bottle of water, and a card with an address printed in beautiful script on it.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Untitled Story Part 2

2011-08-24T14:06:00.001-05:00

I rushed to unlock my door to answer the ringing phone. “Hello?”

“May I speak with Miss Bryanna Campbell? This is the office of Mr. Edward Grey.” A woman’s voice asked.

“This is she,” I replied.

“Miss Campbell, Mr. Grey was the lawyer and the executor of Bill Preston’s estate. Bill left you an inheritance, and there is some paperwork you need to sign. When would you like to come down to our office?” Her voice was polite, but all business, lacking any real sympathy.

“Ummm…” I was taken by surprise. An inheritance hadn’t really occurred to me. Sure, I knew Bill had money, but I also knew that he had a sister and she had a few kids. I guess I just assumed that it would all go to them. “I can come in tomorrow, if that would work for you. At about two?”

“Tomorrow at two would be wonderful. We are on the south east corner of Thompson and 21^st, do you know where that is?”

“Yes, I can find it. I’ll see you at two.”

“See you then, Miss Campbell.” The phone clicked as she hung up.

I sat down heavily on my sofa. It had only been a week since Bill’s funeral. My train ride home today had given me too much time to think. I had stayed at mom’s helping her clean the house after the funeral for a few days, but had been anxious to return home and go back to work. I needed something to do with my time, needed to avoid the emptiness swirling in my head and heart.

Bill and I had always been close. And I admit I had a bit of a crush on him when I was a teenager, but he never said anything. I used to fantasize about the frequent nights when he would stay at my parent’s house, pretending that he slipped into my room and my bed to lay next to me and stroke the hot spot between my legs. He was the first one I talked to about boys and sex. When mom and I had the conversation later, it was all about birth control and protection, nothing about the realities. Mom was very ‘don’t do it till you’re married’ while Bill understood that it was going to happen before then and wanted my happiness.

“Don’t let whatever boy it is, make it all about him. And don’t let him push you into it; you make sure you’re ready. And I won’t tell you it has to be with someone older, but if whoever it is has some experience, it will make it better for you in the long run.” He smiled down at me then, and I wondered if by someone older, he meant himself, but never asked.

I stared over at the picture of the handsome man on my wall. Bill stood, grinning, showing off his new tattoo, me next to him, lifting my shirt, with my back to the camera, showing the butterfly on my back. My eighteenth birthday, Bill took me to get my first tattoo and his fifth. He held my hand when they started, and then sat in front of me to get his arm done. I stared into his eyes the whole time. Mom had been pissed, but dad was secretly pleased.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Untitled Story Part 1

2011-08-22T23:52:00.004-05:00

So i've been writing on this story off and on for a couple of years now, and decided to post up pieces of it over the next week, to get a little feed back. If you are that type of person, please feel free to let me know any grammatical or spelling errors that you find.

My godfather, Bill Preston, had been a strange guy. His funeral fit that. He was popular, well-liked, with a good heart. There were people everywhere.

Bill met my father their freshman year of college, at some party. They were instantly best friends. He was the best man at my parent’s wedding. Though he never married, he always had women around him. When my father died of a heart attack two years ago, Bill was there for mom and me. He helped her with the funeral, making arrangements, easing her burden. He helped me move into my first apartment when I turned 20, a few months after dad died.

A week ago, Bill was flying his Cessna Skyhawk west over the ocean. Something he had done a hundred times. He said it made him free, soaring like a bird, away from the stresses of daily life. Mechanical failure caused him to crash into a small island 20 miles off the coast. I was heartbroken.

I stood alone in a sea of people dressed in black. As I looked around, the faces in the crowd blurred together, until the only face I could see was that of my godfather. I started to sink to the ground. A pair of strong arms wrapped around my waist and supported my weight, guiding me into a soft couch. I looked up into an unfamiliar face.

He was handsome in an unconventional sort of way. Black hair hung softly to his ears, and his eyes were the deepest shade of blue I had ever seen. His bottom lip was pierced and his ears were gaged slightly. His black button up clung to his chest and upper arms, and was tucked into… wait.. were those pants leather?

“Bryanna? Bryanna Campbell, right? Are you okay?” I refocused my eyes on his face, concern for me obvious in the depths of those dark blue pools.

“Bry… Please call me Bry. I’m okay, I think. It’s just been a long week.” He sat down next to me on the couch, an arm still around my waist.

“I’m sure it has been. Bill was your godfather, right? He spoke affectionately about you. My name is Kyle by the way.” He flashed a sweet smile at me.

“How did you know Bill? There are a lot of faces here I don’t recognize at all.” I leaned back into the couch, conscious that his arm was still around me. I drank in his smell, and it was somewhat familiar, reminding me of my godfather.

“We belong to a sort of members only group. We don’t talk about it much to people who aren’t involved. Bill was kind of a leader among us and we are very sad to see him go. But I know he died doing what he loved and wouldn’t have been happy to go out old and wrinkly, laying in a bed somewhere with only half the memories of his life left.” Kyle chuckled.

I smiled at the thought. Bill always said that he wanted to be remembered as going out with a spark, something exciting. Bungee jumping and sky diving. Rock concerts and tattoos.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

TTWD: Internal Enslavement

2011-06-14T03:28:00.001-05:00

I was browsing through my blog statistics and saw that I had many many page views for the Internal Enslavement post that I did in june of 2009. IE is also the term that leads people to my page most often. Related searches are "how to develop internal enslavement" and "how tos of internal enslavement" (those last two were in the last month). When I googled it, I was the fourth listed site on the subject, right after the enslavement website that I have previously quoted. So first off, I will say thank you to those that come to my blog to get read the short post that I had up already.

That all being said, my first post wasn't all that... intimate. I basically defined what internal enslavement was, and left it at that. At the time (some what early in my submission) I didn't have a great concept of what IE was, what it could possibly mean to me, and I was seeking an answer as I am sure that most of the people that have been lead to my blog are doing now. but it isn't really enough to read a definition. When the average kinkster is seeking answers, they, i think, are looking to find real life examples, and not just positive ones. Those new to the concept or to the D/s lifestyle are seeking a how to guide, perhaps. They heard the term at a much, saw a post on fetlife, and became rather curious as to what it meant. It struck a very good nerve, and now they must scour the internet searching for some way to achieve such an deep form of submission.

For me, internal enslavement was something I found myself in, without a name for it. The name came by accident. I was reading everything about D/s I could find, and stumbled upon the term on a blog I read briefly, and then had the desire to learn what I could about the concept and what I was realizing I got myself into. The aforementioned website says something like this "detailed examination of a female slave's thoughts, emotions and past experiences to establish and maintain a solid and inescapable state of ownership."

This is exactly what my Master does. He uses my thoughts, my emotions, and my experiences in life to gain better control of me. When I first started to journal, Master told me (as a matter of fact, i think it is written in my first journal) that anything I wrote in it would be used to his advantage to understand me better as a submissive and a person, and to gain better control of me. I shrugged it off in the beginning, but that was exactly what he did. Today, I don't journal, but everything I say in any conversation could potentially be used to gain more control of me...

So the "How to develop internal enslavement" works something like this...

Ask questions.
LISTEN to answers.
Judge Reactions.
Observe... EVERYTHING.

Internal enslavement is not meant for those that keep their D/s play solely to the bedroom. It is not for the vanilla spicers or the unsure or weak. A dominant actively engaging in IE carries a lot more responsibility than that of the average dominant... Your submissive's physical, emotional, and mental well-being is dependent on YOU. I'm not saying that a submissive that has been involved in IE is incapable of thinking for herself, or would never survive if left on her own. I am saying that that the IE relationship marks a person for life.

There is very little in my life that my Master does not control. My clothing, hair color, eating habits, sexuality, recreational activities, hobbies, and financial security are things on the surface that are relatively easy to see and understand. My emotional health and mental stability are also very closely linked to him. That is what most people don't see. He grounds me when I fly too high or to wild. He is my balance. I feed off of his emotions, and crave to please him. There is not an action I take during the day that I do not consider his point of view, his thoughts, his approval. I make the majority of my decision based on the things that he has taught me and if he would approve or not. Because I trust his judgement. Because I know that he knows me well enough to make decisions for me, or to give me the best advice. He takes care of me, works to keep me happy, because I serve and obey him. In return, he is my world.

It was said recently to Master by a friend of his that he was "unsure if I was truly submissive or if I only submitted to Master because I would lose him otherwise". I stated later that evening (without being aware of the comment) that I didn't think I would submit to another dominant if I were to lose Master. I took some time to ponder both statements. At first, I didn't see a difference.

"I am choosing to submit, isn't that enough?" I asked Master. He told me that he wanted a willing submissive, not a slave that felt forced to submit because of love or blackmail.

I don't feel like a slave. I went into this relationship seeking a Master, a dominant. I sought the lifestyle, craved it, though I was never this far in. It has never been something Master has forced upon me, nor will it ever be. Yes, there are days that I struggle with my role, but I have never had the desire to turn my back on it. Mostly, I struggle because of some of the people around me. Largely, society has rebelled so far against the 1950s housewife, that it isn't normal to be a dependent, soft woman. We aren't supposed to want to be taken care of anymore.

Does it make me less of a submissive in general for never wanting another Master? No. I just don't think someone else could fill his shoes. I'm not sure I would want someone else to try. To me, he is irreplaceable.

TTWD: Domestic Servitude

2010-07-29T00:44:00.002-05:00

Master is very picky about the way the house is kept up. While i love to cook and bake, i have never been very neat. Oh, i play at being organized, and in my kitchen i have a place for everything, but i hate doing dishes and have a fear of cleaning bathtubs and toilets. I would rather sacrifice part of my monthly shoe budget (lol) to hirer a maid. However, this is not acceptable to Master (nor is it particularly financially responsible considering i'm a poor college student). so in moving in with my dear sweet nit picky Master, i have, like any good subbie, had to learn to adapt.

Master hates waking up to dirty dishes in the sink. Oh a cup or something is fine (because he usually gets up in the middle of the night for a drink of milk), but any more than that is a bad start to his day. So if i am so positively exhausted that i cant do the dishes before bed, i try to get up before Master in order to finish the dishes from the night before. We don't have a dishwasher, so every dish, pot, and pan gets washed by hand. The stove and counters must be wiped down as well, in order to prevent feeding the ants or mice (depending on the season) that are an inevitable part of living in the country as we do.

I try to vacuum every 3 or 4 days, to keep the carpets looking nice and the dust down so that Master's allergies are not upset. Dusting is done as frequently. The floors in the kitchen and hallway are another matter. They are tile and the only way to clean them properly (in Master's opinion) is down on hands and knees (naked or mostly so) with a brush or sponge. Once over with soap, then once with clean water, maybe dry with a towel as well. I would like to do them every other week, but in reality its about once a month.

Laundry, i think, is my favorite chore, probably because it is the easiest to multi task. It gets done about twice a week for the normal stuff. I do quite a few loads between the two of us, and sheets get washed once a week. Towels are only good for one use. Theres no good way to dry them in our tiny bathroom, and mold (even in the slightest bit) upsets Master's breathing.

Our office is, i am sad to say, always a mess. There's alot of stuff in here, and its not the biggest room. We seem to collect books and always forget that we are running out of shelf space. Board games are a bit piled in here too. One day soon, i really need to get in here and organize. I'm sure it will come.

Cooking... i'm still learning. i love to cook, but i'm not the best, and Master and i can't always eat the same stuff. He loves peppers and cheese, and i'm allergic to both. Sometimes it gets quite challenging to find a meal to suit both our tastes.

all and all, i'm still learning everything, and trying to figure out how to manage the many aspects of my life... Its a never ending process, subbies, as we all change as we grow older.

TTWD: What is submission?

2010-04-14T14:01:00.003-05:00

What is submission? It's a word i hear used a lot in the community. It sparks a lot of debate. Consent, whether than consent can be removed. If you can ever give yourself to someone so fully that you have no choices left, not even the choice to leave.

My six month training collar is up in June, and as the date approaches, as i think more about TTWD, i find myself questioning myself, my submission, submission as a whole. I am searching for answers any place i know to look. Myself, my Master, forums and boards, and you, my readers.

What is submission to you?

Does it come with restrictions on your dominant and the things that He/she can have you do?

Do you still have a level of consent, of choice (forget what the law says, i want to know how you feel)?

Is your submission 24/7?

BDSM Astrology: Cancer kink

2009-06-29T12:02:00.002-05:00

SUBMISSIVE CANCER

She is likely beautiful, well-proportioned, and easily upset. She does not respond well to her Master's chiding, because it cuts her much deeper than he realizes. She is happy being told what to do, yes, but must have variety in order to be comfortable. She is likely to be outrageously flirtatious with her Master, but quiet and shy in public.

Leather and lace, fringe and fetish…in this series, we’ll take a peek at the kinkier side of the zodiac. Each sign has its own distinct sexual flavor; by combining the various tastes you find in the natal chart, each person’s unique sexual recipe begins to emerge. Now it’s Cancer’s turn, and there’s more to this sign than homemade cookies and apron strings.

Yes, Cancer is a very nurturing, maternal sign, and “maternal” doesn’t always jibe with “hot sex” in our cultural imagination. Many Crabs do tend to wear a prudish-looking shell, especially in public — but for the most part it’s just an act, designed to protect sensitive sexual emotions. And yes, Cancerian sexuality is always tied to emotionality, and it takes a while for this sign to open up — but once they do, they can be very intense, not to mention kinky in a very unique way.

Since Cancer traditionally rules the breast, it’s said that Cancerians are boob men (or boob gals, as the case may be.) This is often true, but here’s another tidbit: Crabs like bums, too. They often love rear-entry positions and anal sex, as well as spanking. If spanking, paddling, or caning is one of your turn-ons, whether male or female, spanker or spankee, you can usually find a Cancer happy to oblige.

If this can be turned into a discipline game, so much the better. Cancer females can really get into a good game of “dirty teacher/naughty student,” and Cancer males can make great naughty students themselves. While Cancer may not seem like the best candidate for the Domination Top Ten, they can surprise the unsuspecting.

Leather and spikes are not to their taste, though. Cancerian domination is more emotional, and often results in situational scenarios that tease the sense of vulnerability and taboo rather than pain or physical submission. A Cancer with a strong dose of Mercury (particularly Virgo on the Ascendant or Mars in Virgo) can also enjoy medical play, ranging from NC-17-rated “dirty nurse” games, to fantasies that involve elaborate setup, special equipment, and at least an XX rating.

They don’t make good swingers. This is a very partnership-oriented sign, and they prefer to stay one-on-one. It’s hard for Cancer to open up sexually, and once they do, they usually feel deeply bonded. While one tends to find fewer Cancerian lesbians and gay men than average, those that are same-sex oriented are often completely same-sex oriented — there’s nothing bisexual about them.

Casual sex isn’t an option, either, for either single or coupled-up Crabs. They may try it every now and then, but they miss the emotional depth and nuance they find with a long-term partner. One Cancerian described one-night-stands thus: “It’s like eating cheese puffs for dinner, when what you really wanted was steak.”

Indeed. Substance is what Cancer craves. If you’re looking for a partner who naturally excels at the emotional aspects of sexuality, look for the Sun, Moon or Venus in Cancer, or Cancer on the Ascendant. Once you’re allowed behind the tough exterior shell, you’ll find a sexy, erotic creature who can fulfill the most intimate and specialized of desires: yours.

Internal Enslavement....

2009-06-04T12:08:00.003-05:00

Internal Enslavement aims to develop practical techniques which use detailed examination of a slave's thoughts, emotions and past experiences to establish and maintain a solid and inescapable state of ownership. This is achieved through control of the slave's psychological states, in contrast to External Enslavement, Slavery which is made inescapable by physical forces rather than the slave's internal psychological state. Legally or socially enforced slavery is an example of External Enslavement.

natural slave: A Natural Slave is a person for whom slavery can be better than freedom, since they have the capacity to experience less Reactance when living in that condition, without the depression normally associated with psychological Helplessness. Thus they are suited to slavery by their nature - by some inherent quality of their psychological makeup.

Reactance is basicly the theory that when someone is threatened with loss of freedom, they fight to retain that freedom.