#subby thoughts

I just got off the phone with Reaction Junkie. As the conversation ended, he told me that he was going to put a craigslist ad up for no strings attached sex and post my address. Then he paused and said, “Actually, I’m going to put up a no strings rape fantasy ad.” He continued, saying that he would post the ad with a photoshopped picture of me holding a sign that said “I’m [LFB] and I fully consent to this.” and that the ad would tell men to just climb up to my third floor apartment, come in, and fuck me no matter what I said. Then he added, “Leave your balcony door unlocked the next few nights.”

As he talked, I got more and more turned on. My cunt twitched and my head went fuzzy with arousal and subby feelings as I thought about someone coming into my apartment to fuck me even as I fought back, screamed, and tried to get away. And it would all be at Reaction Junkie’s behest. The uncertainty about how serious he was only made everything that much more intense.

I asked in a little voice, “You wouldn’t really do that, would you?” His response was to laugh in amusement and say, “Just try me.” I let out a sound halfway between a moan and a whimper and felt my cunt clench in response. My mind was buzzing softly. I was incredibly turned on and half in subspace. Reaction Junkie chuckled and said, “That was a great noise,” and I breathlessly  told him that his response was the correct one. It was perfect.

He wasn’t done, yet. He told me, “When they come in, you have to lope up to them on your hands and knees.” He told me I was to wag my tail and to do so while “panting and smiling.” Then he mused, “I wonder if they’ll be into petplay or if they’ll just fuck your face for showing your mouth to them?” By now, my hand was in my panties and I was rubbing my clit, gasping and moaning as he spoke.

I could all but hear his grin when he said, “You better hope it’s me who comes through that door.” He told me I could get off  after I do some work. I told him that I would definitely do that while fantasizing about the things he’d just said to me. When he said, “I’ll look forward to reading your tumblr post,” I laughed and told him, “I was just composing it in my mind.” We said goodbye and got off the phone.

Just writing about this has me turned on and subby again. I’m hot and wet and horny. I love how wonderfully he pushes my buttons. Rape fantasies, uncertainty, degrading petplay, ordering me around, fucking with my mind. Leaving me not knowing what or if he’ll post online, but enjoying the back and forth in my mind about it. I don’t want to know. He’ll do what he wants and I’ll accept it. He owns me.  I’m his property, his pet, his toy. I’m whatever he wants me to be. Anything he chooses to do to me is a thing I want done to me. I’ll be home the next three nights, alone and with the balcony door unlocked.

Last night on Skype, Reaction Junkie asked me how hard it is for me to carry on conversation when I have something in my holes. Thinking that he wanted me to fuck myself with a dildo while we talked, I thought back to all the times I’d Skyped with The Super Sadist and Marxman while fucking myself. I told him that having something in me wasn’t very distracting.

“Good,” he said. Then he asked, “How long can you wear a plug for? Can you wear a buttplug for eight hours?” I hemmed and hawed until he finally said, “Can. You. Wear. A. Plug. For. Eight. Hours?” “Yes, dear,” I responded, looking down. He smiled at me and informed me, “You’ll be wearing your plug for eight hours at work tomorrow.”

I was happy to do so, and said that it might even be helpful, since I’m seeing Legolas today and plan to be prepared for anal. Reaction Junkie thought for a moment and said, “Well, maybe you should have something in your cunt, too.” I wasn’t sure and said, “I don’t know if I have anything that will stay in.” “That depends how tight your underwear is, doesn’t it?” he responded. I agreed, and he informed me that I would keep my small dildo in my pussy during work, and when I leave for happy hour tonight, I’m to switch it to a larger one.

I smiled, despite knowing it could get uncomfortable. He hasn’t given me many, if any orders like this, that last for an extended time and provide a constant reminder of my place, and I really enjoy them. I lovelovelove our switchy dynamic, and wouldn’t change it. However, it does lend itself to a reduction in the time I spend feeling properly subby, since I feel as though I could take control at any moment. Of course, realistically I know that he owns me, that he’s in charge, that he enjoys bottoming and the feel of submitting so he allows me to play at that role, but I don’t always feel that truth on a deeper level. Sometimes I miss falling into submission like I used to, that heady feeling of being controlled, the fuzzy warmth of being owned.

With this instruction, to have two of my holes filled all day, I can feel a bit of that old subby headspace coming back, especially as I write this. It’s intoxicating and makes me want to think more subby thoughts. I want to be obedient and fulfill the orders given to me. The large dildo may be uncomfortable, but I’m not going to ask for him to change his orders. I risk public humiliation if someone notices or if the dildo slips out. That doesn’t matter. I’m going to do what he told me to do. Because I don’t have a choice. When he says to do something, I do it. Property doesn’t get to refuse, doesn’t get to haggle or negotiate.

So, I’m going to sit all day at my desk, my cunt soaked from being filled. Not only from that, of course, I’m also wet from the knowledge that two of my holes are stuffed at the direction of my owner and that I’m willing to obey him at all times, even at work. And I’m happy to do it. I’m grateful that he is willing to spend the time and attention on me to give an order like this. I’m glad for the reminder of my real place as owned property.

I can pretend to be an independent person. Can say that I have my own job, my own apartment, my own life. But coming to work with a dildo in my cunt and a plug in my ass proves that in actuality, I’m an obedient, eager to please, desperate girl who craves giving up that independence in order to submit and be controlled. To give up ownership of myself to be owned by someone else.

When I Skyped with MLAM a week or so ago, we were discussing what exactly the rules will be when I start up using the dildos to train my ass again. I gave heartfelt plea about the large dildo and the fact that it would take lots of time and effort, which got me mostly silence and “What did you think would come from this?” I’d hoped he might not make me use it, but I’d thought he’d at least change up something. He did, thankfully. I’ll get a week with the smaller one to start preparing myself. I then asked for clarification on when the timer starts and stops. He told me “It starts when you start trying to put it in, and it stops half an hour later.” I asked, “What if I take it out?” and he said “Well, if you stop to get mac n’ cheese and watch an episode of the wire….” and told me to “use [my] judgment.” I agreed that I could handle that, and he said “And you have very good judgment” in my decision making regarding my submission, which made me blush and look away. MLAM told me to write a post on my judgment and decision-making as part of my submission. This is that post.

As his toy, I don’t actually decide -if- I’m going to follow his instructions. However, I do have to make some decisions and use good judgment. There are four kinds of judgment- and decision-making I engage in as part of my submission to him. The first kind I use when I’m trying to determine what to do. The second comes into play as I attempt to comply with the orders I’ve been given. The third is needed when determining if it is appropriate or intelligent to ask for an exception or change in the orders I’ve been given. And the fourth I use when I decide to offer him something of my own volition, without explicit instructions.

Type I

I engage the first type when I have an order (or assignment or punishment), and run into a situation that wasn’t clearly covered in the initial wording, or that could change the overall impact of the order in a way he didn’t intend. Of course, my first instinct is always to ask him for clarification. I used to feel bad about asking for clarification too much, but now I know that it’s good for me to ask. He likes me to ask. And sometimes asking alleviates unnecessary guilt I have. For instance, when I was writing the first four hundred words of this post, which was the amount he told me to write every day until I finished, I got home late that night and then frittered away time masturbating and talking to friends. I realized it was almost midnight, and I hadn’t written any of this, aside from a few notes here and there. I considered whether or not he meant “per day” as in before midnight, or before sleep. I decided that he probably meant before sleep, since midnight doesn’t really set a good dividing line for a day, especially when you’re a night person. But I also decided that I wanted to finish before midnight. I thought, “If I finish before midnight, I know for sure I’m doing what he wanted, even if there is actually more flexibility than that.” Well, long story short, I got distracted doing another thing for him, and by midnight, I was two words short. Even though that was a deadline I’d set myself, and I was only two words away from what he wanted, I felt guilty. (Thanks, Catholic guilt. You’ve been bizarrely useful in this relationship.) The next day, I did ask for my clarification on what “day” meant. He confirmed my assumption, that it meant before I go to bed, which alleviated my guilt, although I still feel bad that I didn’t stick to what I’d decided to do for him.

When I ask for clarifications, I often can guess what the answer will be, because (I like to think) I have a good understanding of the way his mind works, especially in relation to the dynamic we’ve developed. Of course, I’m not always going to like his answer. When I’m deciding if I should ask for a clarification, I often consider how I will react if the answer is something I don’t like. For instance, when discussing the thirty minutes a day with a dildo anal training, I wondered if I would just have to sit there in silence and focus only on fucking my ass with the toy, or if I could watch Netflix while I worked on making myself a better anal slut. I hesitated, and then asked. I dreaded his answer. If I hadn’t asked, it would have been open-ended, and I could have watched something while doing it. By asking, I nearly guaranteed that I wouldn’t be allowed to watch something or listen to music while working on my ass. He may not have thought of that as part of the original assignment, but when I present an opportunity for him to make my life more difficult, or to focus me on my submission, expecting him not to take that opportunity would be stupid.

Of course I asked anyway. I consider how I would react to an undesirable clarification, and then I ask anyway. Even if the answer turns out to be what I’m dreading (and really, it usually is. Clarifications usually are neutral or make my life more difficult.), I should still ask. If there is a way to submit further by taking on an increasingly unpleasant assignment, I should be eager to do so, to prove my level of commitment and the depth of my submission to my owner. Having thought of a way to do those things, if I don’t ask for a clarification and give him a chance to make my life harder, I’m denying some level of control over me by taking advantage of him not having accounted for something, or not having thought of a given way I should be submitting.

Although asking for clarification is always acceptable, there are wrong ways and right ways to do that. One of the most regrettable instances of poor judgment I’ve had was while discussing the anal training with the dildo. I asked if I would be allowed to use lube, which would be a perfectly reasonable question. But I didn’t just ask. For some reason, I was sassy, and I said “You’re going to let me use lube, right? Because I’m going to use lube.” One of the dumbest things I’ve said in a long while. Because he’s wonderful and kind and generous, MLAM did allow me to use lube, but only sputum. I learned my lesson about how to ask things that day, and I think more carefully about how and what I ask now.

Of course, it isn’t always possible or reasonable for me to ask him for a clarification. Sometimes it’s late or he’s busy and there’s some sort of time component. In these instances, I have to use my judgment and make good choices. The first thing I consider is if there is something clear and obvious that will ensure I’m definitely following instructions. For example, when I was instructed to write 400 words of this post each day until I was done with it, that could mean that so long as I write 400 words that are supposed to be for this post, I’m complying with instructions, even if it’s rewriting things. However, it could also mean that I needed to write 400 new words, not just rewrite old ones. Instead of asking for a clarification here, I decided to take the second interpretation. Not all of the words may be used in this final product (especially not without some editing), as I intend to make sure it all flows together as much as possible, but I wanted to interpret the instructions in a way that would ensure that I definitely followed what he wanted.

If there isn’t something immediately obvious, I next consider if there is something I could do that would address the issue, while also making my life more difficult. One instance of this occurred when I was being punished and had to sleep naked on the floor and I got my period. I’m not a fan of tampons over night, and even if I were, tampons alone sometimes leak. My carpet is not a colour period blood stains would blend in with. The last time I’d been punished that way and had my period, MLAM had allowed me to wear panties. However, that was a couple weeks prior, and our dynamic had shifted even in that short amount of time, and I felt like I should ask him if I could wear them. However, by the time I realized I had my period, it was 4am. I didn’t expect to get a response. I wanted to avoid blood stains on the carpet, but also didn’t want to fuck up, both out of fear of punishment, and because every action I take related to MLAM has the singular goal of pleasing him. I decided that putting the panties on would not be a good way to go, even if the goal was avoiding bloodstains, not increasing my comfort. Instead, I chose to sleep on the kitchen floor, even though it is not as comfortable as my carpeted floor. I thought that would please him. Not only did I not put on clothes, I slept on the kitchen floor, and wore a tampon to bed, which I don’t like doing. I’m finally beginning to learn that, when in doubt, go with the option that makes my life more difficult.

I don’t always have good judgment of this type, however. The worst example I can think of occurred while I was using the new silver shoes to masturbate so that I could earn wearing them as part of my first date outfit. I initially told MLAM that I didn’t think I’d be able to get off with them, so I might not end up masturbating every day. He told me that I had to try at least three times a day to get off. Well, the first time I tried with the shoe, I managed to get of fairly easily. I texted MLAM and asked him if I still had to try to get off with the shoe at least three times a day, since I knew I could. He never got back to me, but I thought I’d understood his thought process that led to the instruction, so I made an independent decision. Big mistake. I shouldn’t have imagined I understood what he wanted, when he’d given an exact order. There was no need for me to try to figure out the right thing to do, since he’d already told me. But I thought I knew better. Of course, that got me a punishment. As he said, not responding to the text was an oversight on his part. And I would be punished for it.

I believe that I’ve improved in this kind of judgment and decision-making from earlier in our relationship. I still do ask for clarifications if something is unclear, of course. But if the vagueness is around a small aspect of an instruction, I do my best to figure out if there is a clear solution without bothering him. I like to think that I’ve gotten somewhat of a handle on the way he thinks about the dynamic we have within our relationship, plus, the dynamic has evolved and expanded into ever increasing aspects of my life, which gives me additional context to figure out what to do. Submission and being owned and doing my best to please him and do what he wants have gone from something fun that I do occasionally to something that I’ve accepted as my proper role in life. He’s my owner, and I belong to him. Being able to sink into that mindset allows me to think better about what to do, and encourages me to make decisions that will make my life harder while ensuring I’m living up to what he wants me to do.

Type II

I use the second kind of judgment while I’m trying to follow orders I’ve been given, whether rules on how to live day to day, a particular assignment, or the rules of a punishment. First of all, I have to make good life choices that will make it possible for me to follow his instructions. And then, when I’m following those instructions, I have to do the best I can to do exactly what he meant by them, and not play the rules lawyer. I’m not very good at the “making good life choices” part, yet. I tend to do what I was planning to do, and then fit assignments and punishments around that, which usually means I cut into my sleep. Cutting into my sleep means I’m not taking good care of his property. I should be more willing to cancel any plans I’ve made if I have something to accomplish for him. Like writing this, for example. There were a number of nights I intended to finish writing this once and for all, but then going out and doing other things, instead of prioritizing what he wanted from me. Writing this helped me realize that is a problem I have that I need to fix if I’m going to become the best little feminist toy for him that I possibly can be.

I can’t actually think of an illustrative example of a time I was good about making plans to incorporate his instructions, although I know I have done so a handful of times. If that’s not clear evidence that I need to work on that, I don’t know what is.

I’m somewhat better at the other aspect of this, which is doing what he wants me to do. I should be following the spirit of the instructions, not just the letter of the law. I have previously displayed horrible judgment for when trying to comply with punishments, on several occasions. The first that springs to mind was during the punishment I received where I had to sleep on the floor, naked, no pillow, no blanket. I did this one night and woke up in the middle of the night, cold and shivering. I made a poor decision and climbed into bed. I just wanted to be warm for a little while. I had every intention of getting up again and going back to the floor. Then I fell asleep, probably. It wasn’t for long, and I honestly I’m not 100% certain I did fell asleep. But I’d put myself into a situation where it was easy, entirely possible, and likely, that I fell asleep in bed with a blanket and pillow. My judgment was not at all sound in that case. Of course I felt guilty and texted him as soon as I woke up. I felt really awful, and couldn’t believe that I’d managed to fuck up so easily. The next night, I stayed at Legal Lolita’s place. She offered me a blanket to sleep on, and noted a couple ways I could rules lawyer myself into being warmer. Being a brat isn’t my bag, though. I took the blanket to sleep on, per her request to not sleep directly on her floor. Before going to sleep, I realized that sleeping on top of the blanket would be too tempting, so I decided not to use it. Legal Lolita’s apartment was super cold that night, and I woke up in the middle of the night, shivering. I took the blanket she’d intended me to sleep on top of and wrapped it around myself. Now, here I showed some evidence of the ability to make good judgments, because I stood up with the blanket around my body. I wasn’t going to repeat the same mistake two nights in a row. I swayed back and forth, unsteady on my feet, wanting to be asleep, but also wanting to be warm. I got tired of standing, but it was still too cold to take the blanket off, so I made a poor choice and sat down on a chair. I was just going to be “just a minute” again, and then I was shaking myself. Again, I can’t be sure if I just stopped myself from falling asleep with a blanket around me, or if I was waking up from being more asleep. Either way, I felt another wave of guilt and shame. I’d managed to fuck up again. I did manage to do the right thing for the last opportunity to do so, and texted MLAM as soon as I realized I could have fucked up. I was, of course, punished for failing to follow instructions for the second night in a row.
One example of me doing a good job with complying occurred when I was under instructions to masturbate only with the silver shoes for a week in order to earn the right to wear them on first dates. I wanted to comply with the spirit of that, so I tried not to just rub my clit through the shoes. I even initially started out not putting my fingers in the shoe, and instead simply gripped the outside and ground it into my cunt. By the end, I was close to not finishing an assignment Boy Genius had given me, so I did adjust and put my fingers in the shoe. I still didn’t simply rub my clit through the fabric, though. I used my fingers to move the toe back and forth. When I found it getting too easy, I’d curl my fingers up to make sure I wasn’t rubbing my clit with them. I didn’t want to make my life too easy, because I was getting a special privilege in getting to change the shoes I wear with my first date outfit.
Another instance in which I exhibited what I think is very good judgment while fulfilling a punishment was during a different “sleep on the floor” punishment. MLAM kindly allowed me to earn the right to a blanket so that I would have a chance to complete the punishment without fucking up, since we’d learned that when I’m cold, my judgment goes right out the window. My read on the situation was that he had given me this blanket for warmth, and that’s it. My carpet isn’t awful, but it’s slightly scratchy. If I’d wrapped the blanket around myself, I would have been very comfortable. Nothing he had said made me think there was a clear rule about if I could do this, but I chose to err on the side of over-complying with the rule. I did not wrap myself in the blanket, or sleep on top of it. I even went so far as to always move it out from under me if I found myself on top of it. Perhaps I was over-thinking it and being on top of the blanket would have been fine, but I’d much rather go to silly lengths to comply with what MLAM intended with a given instruction or rule, as opposed to doing things and then finding out that I’d violated what he’d meant for me to do. My aim is to follow his orders, always.

Type III

The third type of judgment- and decision-making involves me asking for exceptions or changes to instructions. Obviously, any time I am asking for an exception or change, I’d better hope he thinks I have a good reason, because objects don’t generally get a say in what happens to them. My personal discomfort does not normally count as a good reason, of course. Negatively impacting other people might be a legitimate reason to ask for an exception or change, as might impossible or very complicated logistics. For instance, when I had the instruction to train my ass with a dildo for 30 minutes every day, originally he told me that if I was sleeping at someone else’s place, I should just go do it in their bathroom. After thinking about this, I told him that I didn’t feel okay with disappearing for half an hour while hanging out with people, or staying up late to do it in their bathroom. He was nice enough to say that I didn’t have to do it while staying with other people, which I really appreciated. Not all of my friends are kinky (well, kinky in similar ways to me), and it seems inappropriate somehow to abandon them while spending time together, or to use their bathroom for my sex life, especially if I’d be taking it up for so long. I also got an exception for difficult logistics when I was driving from one friend’s place to another’s, an hour or so away. I might possibly have been able to go home in between and do it, but it would have made logistics very difficult and stressful. I asked for an exception in instances where it would be very difficult to get home and do the training, noting that I wouldn’t abuse that exception to make my life easier in situations where it wasn’t necessary, and that if I did, I’d feel guilty and confess. He agreed to this change, as well.

I like to think I’m improving in this area in that I’m asking for fewer changes or exceptions. I used to engage this more often, before I was as well trained as I am now. MLAM started out granting exceptions or changes not super frequently, exactly, but also not rarely. Then he started refusing more often, and now I ask much less often. For instance, when MLAM told me that I wouldn’t be having any more orgasms until he sees me, I noted to him that I had a playdate set up with someone. In the past, I might have asked for an exception, thinking that it could be seen as part of being useful to other men. This time, however, I made sure to be clear that I was just letting him know because I thought he would be interested/like knowing that he was messing with a play relationship. I did not ask for a change in the instruction, even when Crayola cancelled because of the orgasm restriction. I shouldn’t be needing to ask for exceptions, because I should plan to follow his orders. And if I do violate the orders, I know and accept that I deserve whatever punishment he decides on.

Type IV

Finally, there’s a fourth kind of decision making that I employ when I decide to do things for MLAM that he has only suggested, or maybe even hasn’t mentioned. I make the decision to behave in ways I think would please him, whether he will ever know that I did it or not. My primary goal in life is to please my owner. He may loan me out to any man he wants, but at the end of the day, everything I do with other men, I do because I know it pleases him to see me live as the little slut I am. Sometimes he’ll mention something he likes, but not give a command, sometimes he has preferences that aren’t orders, and sometimes I know there’s some little thing I could do that would make him happy. And I that’s the thing I should choose to do, even if he wont ever know.

The main instance of this in my life has been the change in the way I dress. Originally, MLAM had said he didn’t want to change my personal style, but not only was that earlier in the development of our relationship, before I understood that I’m just a toy for him to play with, but also, I’m eager to please and I want to do things that make me attractive to the most men as possible, since that’s the primary way I have value. I used to be a girl whose primary footwear was Birkenstocks and chucks with my tight miniskirts with pockets. MLAM chose more feminine attire for me when we were together. Flats and heels instead of chucks and Birkenstocks, and floofly skirts that can be blown up by a bit of wind. These days, whenever I’m making a decision about an outfit, I think “I should be more feminine” and “Would MLAM like this if I wore it for him?” Since that began, I’ve only worn my chucks a handful of times, and even fewer times to an actual outing. I want to dress in feminine clothes that he would like to see on me. Not because he dislikes my old personal style, which was a bit more andro, and much less feminine, but because he wants to feminize me, to control me, to change me.

Another example involves something a bit more difficult and a lot less socially acceptable. When MLAM had me give myself some bruises with a pen with a cap, I asked him if I could keep them until he gave me some himself. He seemed quite pleased with that request, and I’ve kept them up diligently. It’s not exactly easy to maintain bruises on oneself for more than a month, but I’ve been doing it. The past week or two, whenever I go to the bathroom at work, I take a pen with me and grind the cap into the three different bruises I’ve left on my upper right thigh. It makes me happy to have something I have to pay such attention to, and that is so visible and can be used by other men to hurt me.

I think the thing I’m most happy with in terms of this kind of judgment is that I decided to offer MLAM something to add to the fact that I’m not allowed to orgasm until he sees me. I was thinking about the restriction, and reading some posts about edging on tumblr, and got to thinking. Not masturbating isn’t a super difficult thing for me. I didn’t masturbate for a large chunk of my life, and even now, when I was super stressed during grad school, I could go weeks without getting off. It won’t leave me panting and desperate to not masturbate for a week, or even longer. I started thinking about edging, and decided that I would offer to him that I would edge for a while every day, which would actually leave me desperate by the time we’re together. I’d hoped this would be an offer he liked. It was. In fact, offering that, in combination with how well I’d reacted to him having an effect on a play relationship, led to him asking “Would you like something in particular for doing so well?” I don’t know that I’ve been offered a reward before. Of course I appreciated the offer, and did have a request, but really, the only reward I need is the knowledge that I’ve pleased him, and a “good girl” from him.

I want to improve my judgement and decision-making in all of these areas so that I can be better for MLAM. Pleasing him is my primary motivation, and my main purpose. I know that I need a lot of work in some of these areas, and I intend to put in the time and effort required to continue being entertaining for him, to continue being of use so that he keeps me around.

As I was getting ready to Skype with MLAM today, I was looking at what I was wearing. It was a shirt from Sexual Assault Prevention Week at my undergrad, and on the front it says “If you see something, say something.” It’s just a unisex tshirt I was wearing to put together a couch. Not attractive. Normally I would have taken it off and been naked, or put on something cute. But that shirt reminded me of another one I have, from a different Sexual Assault Prevention Week.

That one says “Consent is Sexy” and I thought “Oh. I’ll put that on. I bet he’ll like it and/or make a comment about it and that will be fun.” Again I underestimate him. He knew I’d worn it for a reason. He informed me that I’m going to cut it up and make it into a sexier cut, a croptop, a shirt with a racerback, something much more attractive than a blah unisex cut. In addition to that, I’m going to cut fabric above the word “Consent” into the letters “NON,” so that the shirt will read “Nonconsent is sexy." 

I told him that I wanted to say no (but of course wouldn’t and lol who cares if I do, I have to do it anyway), because the shirt is a memento of my time in undergrad. He smiled and said "I know. I like fucking with your past, too.” Excellent point, sir. He owns me. That means he owns my past, he owns my present, and he owns my future.

When I was on the train home yesterday, I saw a guy wearing a shirt with writing on it, but the writing was vertical. I was tired, so I turned my head a bit to read it. It said “If you turn your head to read this you owe me a blowjob”. My first thought was “I hope he doesn’t see that I’ve turned my head, because if he asks for a blowjob, I’ll have to agree.” My second thought, when I realized he wasn’t even looking in my direction, was “I should go offer him a blowjob, since obviously I owe him.”

I didn’t, and even though that’s acceptable because I’m supposed to keep myself physically safe, so I can continue to be of use to MLAM, I feel like I should be punished. I should be punished for not offering myself when I clearly owed him the use of me, even beyond the simple fact that he’s a man and I’m just a fuckhole.

Here’s the thing about my owner’s no pissing on first dates rule for me: I could avoid violating that rule by not going on first dates or by not spreading my legs so easily almost anytime a man shows interest.

But my owner wouldn’t want me to do either of those things to avoid breaking the rule. Both because, hello, I’m here in this world to get used by men, and because he gets pleasure from seeing me thriving in my new life.

And, not that it matters because my preferences and desires aren’t worth shit, but I want to meet new people and have sex with people I like.

So, I’ve gotten myself into a situation where I’m practically guaranteed to fail at following my owner’s rule about pissing because I also am trying to follow his instructions to get used by any man who wants me, and as many men as possible. There’s no way for me to be the perfect fucktoy here. And isn’t that just a perfect microcosm of my larger place in life? No matter what I do, I can’t be the perfect toy. All I can do is keep improving in the hopes that I’ll remain useful to the men in my life.

So, when men on kik hear that I need to ask a man for permission to cum they occasionally ask if I’m submissive, or if I like to be told what to do. Now, the latter question I can appropriately and comfortably answer with something like “Not by random people, but by certain people, yes.” It’s the truth, and although I do say that to communicate that they shouldn’t necessarily expect to be able to command me to do things, it isn’t entirely writing off the idea.*

However, when they ask if I’m submissive, answering with the truth “I switch” feels dishonest. It isn’t untrue, because I do switch, although I haven’t had much opportunity to do that lately. But telling them that is a defensive tactic I use to try to make myself seem more like a strong, independent woman who won’t just bow to their whims. Ha. Of course I’d try to come off that way, silly little feminist bitch that I am. Obviously it’s all a facade. To them, I am submissive (unless they really want someone to dom them, which is a whole ‘nother set of things for me to think and write about), and saying that I’m a switch to make myself seem less easy or more powerful is stupid and dishonest and I should stop. I will stop.

*As I wrote this post, I realized that maybe I should start answering “Yes.” Because really, I should be ready, willing, and eager to follow commands from any man, even a total stranger over kik. I’ll stop pretending to have any choice over whose orders I follow. I’m going to start answering in the affirmative, that yes, I like to be told what to do. Not only is that true (and if it isn’t for that individual person, that doesn’t really matter since my preferences are irrelevant), it’s what I should be doing if I’m going to become a good fucktoy.

Note: Below the break there is a lot of discussion of piss play. 
It’s fairly gross.

As I said in my earlier post, I was not able to follow MLAM’s instructions for my first date with Former President.  I was told that I was not to piss until I got home from my date, and I pissed well before that.

When I left Former President’s apartment, I texted MLAM and told him that I hadn’t kept to his instructions. I’d tried very hard, but failed.  I told him that I felt terrible for disappointing him and that I understood I’d need to be punished. To be honest, the instruction to drink water and then not piss until I got back from my date was pretty emotionally taxing within the context of the play.  I wanted so badly to do what he said and to not be a disappointment, but I also wanted to be able to enjoy my time with Former President and not to have to cut it short. 

MLAM did tell me that I was a good girl and had the perfect response, which made me feel slightly better.  I tried to accurately express how I felt, and to do so the best way possible, since I had already failed once. 

When we had a Skype date the Monday after my date, MLAM told me that he had been thinking of a punishment for me. (While he was giving a presentation. Because obviously. I envy that boy’s brain, I swear) He told me that I needed to find a shot glass, and asked if I had any double-sized ones. I said I might not and asked if I could just use a paper bathroom cup.  He said no, since he wanted there to be more violation than that. He didn’t give any more information than that. I said I’d get a shot glass from where they were packed away and let him know when I had one. 

MLAM also informed me that I am now to do the same thing on all future first dates, drink a bottle of water before I go, and to not piss until I get home.

I told Legal Lolita and Breastie about what he had said and guessed with them that this punishment was that it was going to be having to drink a shot of piss, or something like that.  I was ready and willing to do so.  Boy, did I underestimate MLAM.

On Wednesday, I found my shot glasses and brought them up to my room.  I texted MLAM to tell him, but noted that I was going to be staying in a hotel with my parents from Thursday through Sunday.  He responded, “I don’t mind where you are, pisswhore.” and told me that I needed to keep the shot glass with me and drink at least 5 bottles of water a day.  Each time I peed for two days, starting the next day, I was to drink a shot glass full of it.  He said, “This is to remind you that I have control over what goes in AND out of your body, cunt.”

I said “Yes, sir.  Of course.” and told him that I did not have a double shot glass. I asked if I should use an espresso cup or if a normal shot glass was acceptable. And I told him that I assumed I should pick a shot glass with emotional significance.

He told me that I could use a normal shot glass, but that I’d need to do two shots each time, and that yes, he wanted me to feel as violated as possible while doing the punishment.

I picked this shot glass:

It’s one of my first shot glasses, I’m pretty sure I bought it while with close friends from undergrad, I used it throughout undergrad, and it’s definitely my favorite.  And of course, the idea of using a glass that praises vaginas while being punished and treated like a filthy pisswhore.

I woke up groggy the next morning and completely fucked up my very first chance to follow the punishment.  I texted MLAM and told him, apologizing and saying that I intended to do four shots the next time, unless he had something else he wanted me to do.  He did.  Now the punishment would be four days, not just two. That’s the whole time I was going to be in New York with family, which is always stressful.  I felt bad for being a dumb bitch and forgetting, but also was happy to have the punishment extended, as a distraction.  I thanked him for extending it and told him I both deserved it and appreciated the distraction. MLAM noted that the point was to have me drinking piss while with my parents, since “if we’re going to make you into a little fuck toy, might as well take away the sanctity of everything.”

The first time I actually abided by the punishment was when my dad and I stopped to get food on the way to New York. Luckily the bathroom was an individual one, because it was supa gross. I did the first shot quickly, without thinking, because I was worried about doing all four before I was done pissing.  The temperature and the taste threw me, but I did the second one without too much difficulty.  The third and the fourth ones were hard, though. I felt nauseated and spit up after the fourth one. Unsurprisingly, hot, bad tasting, salty liquids aren’t pleasant to do shots of. I noticed afterwards that I had spilled piss on myself and on my clothes, which made me feel even more disgusting. After that, I made sure to take off at least my shirt, or my entire dress. Doing four shots instead of two was definitely a good punishment for fucking up the first time I pissed, because it was almost too much.

I started drinking even more water after that, since it had been so disgusting that I was worried about vomiting. I talked with Legal Lolita and Breastie about how gross it was, and Legal Lolita suggested I think of it as broth. That actually did help, in a way, since I put it in a different mental category, which made the temperature less disconcerting. I don’t think I’ll ever be able to eat/drink broth again, though. Breastie thought I’d adjust to it, and actually, I did.  Fun fact: When you drink water almost constantly, your urine gets super dilute and almost tasteless. I don’t think I’ve ever been as hydrated as I was the four days of the punishment.

At the end of the first day of punishment, MLAM and I Skyped for a little while, which turned incredibly hot when I said that I wouldn’t be so slutty on first dates anymore, because of the punishment for pissing on them. He responded by doing this mean/derisive/dismissive laugh and saying this really fucking sexy thing about me being a slut with giving up all three holes to Former President and how I pretend to think that I have value, that women are equal, that I use the word heteronormativity without giggling, etc. but just get me near a guy and I spread my legs and undo everything other bitches have tried to accomplish. I was sitting in a public area in the hotel and I was so incredibly turned on and hot and hoooo does he know how to turn on this little feminist bitch. Skyping was also nice and reassuring, because I was feeling a bit uncomfortable and unsettled after a day of the punishment.

I didn’t fuck up again during the four days, and ended up drinking my own piss in my aunt’s bathroom, the hotel bathroom I shared with my parents, a bathroom at the DMV, at a restaurant I was at with my Aunt, a couple other restaurants, and once in a crowded rest stop bathroom. I did the best I could to make sure the shots were large enough, and if I noticed that the first one hadn’t been, I’d do an additional half a shot or more to make up for it.

At one point during the four days, MLAM asked me how I was enjoying drinking my own piss. I told him that that was a strong word for how I felt about drinking it. What I did enjoy, however, was the extreme invasiveness of the punishment.  I was worried about pissing long enough to do both shots and about the taste, so I stayed ultra hydrated the entire time. That meant that I carried my water bottle everywhere, and pissed every few hours (or even more often than that). I even woke up once or twice per night. I wasn’t able to forget for even a moment that I’m a disgusting pisswhore, or that I brought the punishment on myself because I didn’t follow simple instructions and pissed on my date.

Now that it’s basically over, I’m glad I didn’t balk and that I accepted a fitting and well-deserved punishment. This isn’t something I’d do with most partners, or maybe even any other partners, but pushing myself that far for MLAM makes me feel like a good little bitch. I’ve learned my lesson, and I will be changing my behavior on first dates/first-date-like situations. They might be shorter, and they will definitely be less sexual. Although I don’t know if he originally had that result in mind when he gave me that order, this kind of behavior change is a pretty major instance of me altering my life for and giving up control to MLAM. I’m willing to have my interactions with other potential partners be different than they otherwise would be. In deference to an instruction he’s given me. Because of the control that I’ve given up to him. Out of respect for the power he has over me. In order to please him. To be good for him.

It makes me feel owned and possessed. It’s a wonderful feeling.

Note: I wrote the beginning of this in the middle of trying to decide if I needed to safeword, and I only changed a couple of words afterwards. It’s a pretty good picture of my thought processes and patterns at the time. I was at work and my mind was a fucking mess, so I decided I needed to write something to figure things out. It’s not a super fun piece of writing in large part. 

SPOILER: A few hours after I wrote this, although I was still in a fucked up mental state, I did eventually ask, “I’ll still do the rubber bands and I guess the dildo tonight if you want, but is it okay if I say "Red. Pause until I’ve slept.?” Of course, he responded “It’s always OK to use your safewords.”

So, last night I was trying to finish the rest of the 30 minutes of fucking my ass with the dildo. I was dumb, and after my Skyping with MLAM ended, I was dumb and ate (I had barely eaten anything all day) and wrote my assigned post first. It was 5am before I started trying to fulfill my assignment. I was walking from my bedroom to grab the dildo from the kitchen, thinking about what I was going to be doing, when everything just hit me. The last week, the start of my new job, the bad shit from Monday, and most of all, the pure exhaustion from only sleeping 2 hours the night before, and the knowledge that I would be getting that little sleep yet again. I stopped mid-step and collapsed, choked out “I can’t do it.” and started sobbing hard. I eventually got up, still crying, got the dildo and went back to my room. I brushed my teeth and washed my face and kind of laughed at myself for being so silly and crying.

I went back to my room and when I got down on the floor, I was about to stick the dildo down my throat when I started sobbing again. I let loose this time and just lay there, sobbing, curling in on myself like a fetus, and shaking. I thought I couldn’t control it, but then I tried and I did manage to push it down. I stuck the dildo in my mouth and the sobbing started again. Granted, that made everything all mucousy and I did get a fairly slippery dildo out of it. I kept crying, sometimes sobbing, sometimes not, and I started pushing the thing into my hole. The sobbing started up again, along with the fetus curling, so I let go and the dildo popped out. I started a text to MLAM, saying I couldn’t do it, wanting to make it clear that I’d tried hard. I stopped halfway through, not wanting to be a fucking disappointment. I decided to keep trying. I couldn’t put it in my mouth again to lubricate it more, because of fecal contamination. Not entirely sure what to do, I used my clean butt plug to get more, smeared it on, and pushed a couple fingers in and out of my ass a couple times. I pushed the dildo in and started fucking my ass with it. There wasn’t enough lubrication. I kept at it, but eventually stopped in less than a minute. The sobbing started again, this time exhaustion was mixed with fear and shame. Fear of the punishment for being a fuck up. Shame about failing so quickly. Fear that I’d never be able to get it right. Shame for not being able to do something so fucking simple. Fear of becoming unwanted and being tossed aside.

I tried a bit more, but just couldn’t. I’d start sobbing each time, push it down, try again, sob again. I finally finished the text I’d started. I said “I couldn’t do the other fifteen minutes. I got two hours of sleep last night and I’m going to get that tonight because I was doing things and all of a sudden it was 5am (that’s on me, but still) and I thought about doing the other fifteen and I just sort of started sobbing. I did get sputum and get it in my ass but I keep sobbing, mostly because I’m so tired, and it just is way past the point where it’s enjoyable at all. I tried really hard to push past that, but it’s not working. I even feel shitty because I’m not doing it, but I just can’t right now. I’m sorry, sir.” I thought maybe he’d be understanding. I didn’t put it in parentheses, say OOC or “Real talk” or safeword. I was tired, but I’m not sure if that’s the reason I didn’t do any of that. It was a large part of it, though. I cried myself to sleep, worried and scared, but thinking maybe it would be okay.

In the morning, I sent him another text, “So, now that I’m not quite as exhausted as I was last night, I think a big part of why I got overwhelmed last night, besides exhaustion, was a mental block about the sputum. I want to just use that, like you said to, but I also get upset/agitated thinking about using only that. Is there any way that I could please be allowed to do my best with the sputum and use lube as backup? Maybe just until I get the hang of it, like the first week? Please, sir? I so want to please you and do as I’m told, but I’m a disappointing little bitch and I have to work up to it.”

I headed to work, exhausted but not upset. Then his response came. I went to the bathroom to read it. I could tell from the part I could see that it was not the understanding text I’d hoped for. I got to the stall and read it.

He said, “Why is the lube such a sticking point for you? You’re clearly not even concerned about lubrication because sputum provides that, it’s the physical object of lube itself that you covet. Why? Also, I cannot believe, you little bitch, have once again failed to follow an order so quickly. You should have done the fucking before the post, as the length of the fucking was a known quantity, whereas writing could have been modified” and gave me a punishment involving snapping rubber bands on my tits and the soles of my feet.

I started to cry. Other people were in the stalls nearby, so I kept it quiet. I sat down and pissed, masturbated and cried. At work. I stole three rubber bands on my way back to my desk.

[Note: It was at this point that I started writing, so the rest is in present tense.]
I feel empty. To be honest, I’m not sure if I want to step out and safeword. Part of me knows that I can. Part of me feels like I can’t, not without consequences. Like if I safeworded, he’d decide I was boring and get rid of me, or at least play with me less. Phase me out. Maybe for a better model. Part of me just wants to say “No.” in response. Or
“Mental block. Like I said. And k.” Another part wants to do the thing he said, but just not respond. As I wrote this, the other part, the little feminist bitch part, got larger, and I fell back into that headspace somewhat. Still not sure what I’m going to do. For now, finish the workday.

————-

I wrote this next bit after I was feeling better/right before I posted this on the tumblr.

Part of the reason I did safeword was that I kept crying at work. Enough for my office mate to ask if I was getting the sniffles and offer tissues. After he left for the day, the tears and snot just started flowing (I do not cry cute.)

About an hour after MLAM told me that of course I could safeword, and I responded “Red. Pause until I’ve slept,” I followed up with a request for reassurance, since he hadn’t really given me any, and part of the reason I safeworded was because of the fact that I felt like I couldn’t safeword without consequences. I hesitated for a while before saying that, and even talked to Legal Lolita about it briefly. I didn’t want to be needy, or demanding, or annoying, which pairs nicely with those feelings of being tossed aside for being boring. Even the message I sent asking for reassurance was all hedging and “kind of” and “if that’s okay with you.”

I must have still been in a bit of a state, because of course he wasn’t going to be mad at me for being clear about my needs. He said “Sure, what’s up, gorgeous?” That made me start to cry again, this time from relief. I explained my feelings about being afraid he’d think I was boring if I safeworded, and he said “Nope. Everyone safe words. And if they don’t, then you’re not finding the edge. And if you don’t find it, how can you push boundaries? :)” Which is just so perfectly true and so him to say.

I read that a couple times and thought about it. I realized that the limit I hit here wasn’t about the dildo or anal or lube. It was about playing while sleep deprived. I lost much of my ability to separate roles from reality.

Having gone through that and out the other side, I’m really fascinated. I definitely want to push that boundary again with MLAM, just not while I have to be at work, and I’d much rather do it in person. I really like the fact that I truly felt like he was mad at me, disappointed in me, and that he might just drop me for not doing what he wanted, no matter what. That could be hella fun in person, and also I think being able to hug and cuddle and talk afterwards would be very important.

I think that my fear about being abandoned for being boring if I safeword is the much clearer articulation of a nagging feeling I’ve had in the back of my head. Like I couldn’t tell where my boundaries were or if I could have limits. It’s absolutely not the result of anything MLAM did. It’s just me up in my head with my insecurities. Now that I do believe that I’m attractive, they jumped to another quality for me to worry about. It’s probably why I kept apologizing for safewording for a while. I already talked about that one with MLAM and had him reiterate what I already know, which is that safewording doesn’t mean I’ve fucked up at all. It means we’ve found a boundary, and now we can play with it, which I really enjoy.

I still need to talk about all of this with MLAM, and talk theory and practice with some other people, as well, but now that it’s all over, I’m glad I had this experience. Also, I’m going to work on my sleep schedule. Good night.

This past week I fucked up quite a few times with orders and punishments from MLAM. When we talked yesterday (which made me feel better because he drove home his ownership of me in several ways), he said it was because I wasn’t sufficiently motivated because of the distance. Thinking about it more, I don’t know how true that is. The punishments are worse long-distance, and I do follow through on them and do report any mistakes or violations I make. Of course, then I need an alternate explanation for not being good. I think part of it may be that I was so busy and distracted and super exhausted last week that I lost that sense of belonging to him as an object and forgot my place as a fucktoy. Three holes and a heartbeat. That’s no real excuse, of course. It means I need to do a better job of internalizing what I am and what my purpose is so that I don’t forget even when I’m completely drained, physically and mentally. He gave me an assignment a little while ago that will help with that.

During our conversation, when I discussed that I felt bad that I’d fucked up so much (I at first said that I felt like I’d fucked up a lot that week, and he said “Do you feel that way or have you?” and I had to repeat it properly and mmmph. So hot.), one of the explanations/excuses I had was that I just do not do well with cold. I shut down, physically and mentally. I think that’s why I did such a bad job with the two days of sleeping naked with no pillow or blanket. Each time, I woke up in the middle of the night and got into bed, or sat with a blanket, intending to just be a moment. The first time, I swear to the metaphorical excuse for a goddess that I must have dreamt getting up and going back to the floor, because I really thought I did that. I didn’t, though, and I immediately felt very guilty and shameful when I woke up, and texted MLAM right away. The second night, I was at Legal Lolita’s apartment after the happy hour and it was so very cold and I sat up with the blanket for a minute and promptly did the same thing. I’d even tried to just stand there for a minute instead so it wouldn’t happen, but I fucked up. I woke up, again filled with guilt and shame, and I texted him immediately and told him that I’d fucked up again. I was pretty upset and actually didn’t go back to sleep again, even though I was super tired from the happy hour.

During our conversation, MLAM was very, very generous and told me that I could earn a blanket for the next punishment (a punishment for pissing while I was with Legolas) by coming up with three things to offer him. I have a hard time with things like that, and told him so. It’s partially because I don’t feel very creative, and also, with him, it’s because I’d give him anything he asked for. My body and mind belong to him, after all. He told me that the point of this was basically to see what I would offer, getting at where my mind is at with all of this. I did immediately offer him unprotected anal, but acknowledged the risks, and he appreciated the offer, but turned it down, since I’m not on hormonal BC and that’s just not worth it.

After our conversation, I called Legal Lolita, and during our conversation, I asked for her help brainstorming things to offer. We came up with several things, and when I got off the phone, I thought of more because I realized that collaborating with her may have missed the point of the exercise.

I offered him these three things and explained that the second two were the result of brainstorming with Legal Lolita.

1. A piece of writing of at least 1000 words, to be completed within a week. (He love love loves reading things I write, and is extraordinarily flattering about them. Made me giddy and blushing and sososo happy by saying that it makes me valuable and I have no competition in that area.)

2. I will ask C4 and Legolas to cum on my face together (Obviously I’ll tell them the reason I’m asking, besides, of course, that it would be degrading and that’s how I ought to be treated. If they aren’t comfortable being involved with my play with MLAM like that, I’ll find something else to offer him.)

3. He will pick a toy or impact tool from Amazon, and I will purchase it for him alone to use on me or to order me to use. That includes things with leather. (This is one that I was hesitant about and still have some uneasy feelings, now I think of it. Not about the first part, but about the leather. We’ve talked about messing with my veganism, and I think I’m going to have to put a hard limit on eating non-vegan things, but I’m willing to offer this. It’s very edgy, and if he picks something with leather, I’m not 100% sure how I’ll react.)

Then I said that I understood that it may have violated the reason for having me think of three things to have collaborated with Legal Lolita, and offered these two additional things:

4. When I visit A2, I will be naked whenever he and I are in my apartment, and I won’t wear panties the entire time. (This is something I like the idea of a lot, but also is something uncomfortable in a number of ways. He could make life -very- difficult for me with fans and inviting people over and short, short skirts and flippy skirts on windy days and going out to bars. Not to give him any ideas, or anything.)

5. I will shave or trim my pubic hair in any way he wants. (This may seem like an obvious and simple thing for a submissive little bitch to offer their owner, but for me, it’s not so much. I haven’t done anything to my pubic hair [except some minor side shrubbery trimming once or twice] in about a year, and I’m quite attached to it on several levels. MLAM and I have talked about him making me shave it, and my other hair, but he didn’t want me to do that before I moved so that I could present myself the way I wanted when I started meeting new people. I somewhat hesitated when I thought of this. I wasn’t sure if I should offer to shave all my hair or just this. I landed on just this because it’s not such a huuuuuge step in feminization/fucking with my feminism as the legs or armpit hair, which I haven’t shaved in something like three or four years. I think that makes it a better thing to offer, rather than for him to command. Of course, if he wants me to shave the legs and armpits, too, I will.)

I added that I understood if now that I offered all five, he’d want all five in trade for the blanket. I was fairly certain that he’d want them all, and I wanted to give them. I want to be good and properly submissive, to do things he tells me to do, to give him pleasure, to be degraded and used by men.

He texted back earlier. He said “You seem like such an eager cunt I’ll allow you to do all five to show the depth of your depravity and submission.” I’m very appreciative of that. I fucked up quite a bit lately, and I’m happy for a chance to try to make up for that. I know I’m still a disappointing cunt, but I can do my best to improve for the future.

In addition to having to sleep naked on the floor with no pillow (but with a blanket, thanks to his kindness), he told me “to try to drill into your mind how absolutely base you are, when at home, you’ll now be squatting and peeing in the tub. And no matter where you are, you are to be masturbating fast and hard while you pee. We’ll see if behaving like an animal will help you learn at least as easily as one, you dumb cunt.” He later added that “masturbating while peeing is to mix the basic urges of your body to remind you you’re only three holes and a heartbeat.”

He’s so deliciously creative and thoughtful, which makes him an especially fun and dangerous person to have as a dom/owner. I love every moment.

I’m really quite glad to have something to do frequently (every time I piss, in fact) because it will help me remember my place and that I’m here to be used by and to please men. I so want to become the perfect fucktoy for MLAM, and I want to be able to be that, even when I’m exhausted. As I wrote earlier, at the moment, when I’m super tired, or cold, or otherwise impaired, I misbehave and fuck up because I lose sight of the fact that really, I’m three holes and a heartbeat, and anything else is superfluous. Having a frequent task to perform that will remind me of that and will help me internalize it the way I need to in order to become a good little “”“”feminist”“”” bitch.

daddy please rape me and tell me it’s for my own good