Journals

I was cleaning out closets today and found my old journals. They were tucked away in a box and when I cracked them open I was surprised at just how much I had written down.

The journals date back to 2002 and my first steps in the lifestyle with a man I will always love, my first Dominant. We parted ways in 2004 and I will always regret the hurt I caused him. He certainly did not deserve the annoying, bitchy, willful "submissive" that I was. It was very unfair to him and reading my journals and the one comment he ever wrote in them reminds me how I really needed to grow up and actually become an independent woman. What gift could I offer him really? The gift of a little girl trapped and lonely and trying desperately to escape from the hell she found herself in.

No I had no real gift to give him, nothing to offer in return for the care he showered on me. So I took and took, feeling inadequate but somehow justified too. I look at the collar he once placed around my neck with fond memories, I even saved the ribbons and the box from it. The notes he tucked inside, the cards for holidays and birthdays. Endearments that he lavished on me.

My journals from those days are filled with fear and hate. The confident, sexy, independent woman I am today was well hidden. I thought being strong was unattractive and that if I was to strong that no one would ever want me.

The most basic human need is to belong, and so I hid away my strengths and flaunted my weaknesses in hopes of belonging.

I was so very wrong.

I am strong, smart, beautiful, alluring and powerful!

I love who I am inside and out, that frightened little girl inside me has found peace in the stability of knowing I am capable.

It is wonderful to know that I belong. Not so much to another person, which is very good. Or to a community that is supportive and upbeat, which I adore.

The best part is knowing, without any shadow of a doubt, that I belong to me. I carry my sense of well being and of belonging inside of myself.

The little girl has reconciled her past and become a woman. There are so many people to thank for it along the way, but mostly I thank myself.

I never gave up on me. I grabbed out for help when I was desperate and alone and used that help to regroup and regain my sense of self. I never quit trying to become free of the shame and shackles of my past. Now I give back in small ways, hoping to help others. Being trapped is not something I would wish on anyone.

I am free, and I am me.

The journals have been tucked away again, they are a poignant reminder of the struggle I came from and to be careful with myself and with those I love. The man that I wrote of communicates with me occasionally and I know he is well enough. I will never in a million apologies be able to atone for the mountains of grief I piled upon his dear heart. I will always remember the wonderful moments we shared, and cry alone in sadness at the pain I caused.

I can not regret any of it, all of it merely steps on the path I travel. I can not wish any of it was different, only hope the people whose lives I touched, regard me in the same way as I do each of them. A lesson to be studied and learned.

Precious self, keep on your journey, it is after all, not about the destination at all.

Thank you Goddess for being with me and in me through it all.

Risks

I do not think I am a complex person really, I have some very basic needs and desires. I am for the most part very capable of expressing my needs. I am also extremely capable of finding people to fulfill the needs and desires I express.

I am finding myself wanting something I have never wanted before. From someone I never expected to desire that way.

Surprises are abounding.

I am not sure what to do.

I have extended an offer I have never before offered and I am nervous about it. Not nervous that this person will accept.. nervous that they won't.

I am opening myself up to a new concept. I am attempting to be vulnerable.

I am terrified. Me. The girl who has the world by the tail, who is always competent and strong and who knows what she wants, is considering allowing someone else to lead a little.

Just a little. Now I await the response.. anxiously.

Risky business indeed.

Devoured

His tongue presses into my mouth as her hands tangle in my hair and pull my head back. My clothing has been torn off me and tossed aside.

Bared to thier hunger.

I am trapped firmly between them. While my neck is exposed he growls and bites me, hard. I squeak and struggle but am held firmly.

Human bondage.

She is holding me by my hair and biting my shoulder while her fingernails scrape my butt cheek. I squirm and gasp and plead. "Please! OHH Please! Help me!"

Their laughter mingles as he slips lower and bites my nipple and her tongue teases the nape of my neck. Shivering uncontrollably as she kicks my legs apart and he rubs his cock head on my slippery cunt. My body betrays my lust to them.

He is thrusting inside me and her nails are raking across my scalp as she tightens her grip. Her breasts squished against my back and the scent of our mixed desire spurns my passion to new heights.

Whimpering and begging, I feel her hand slip down and she pokes her finger in my bum and uses her fingertips to feel my juices coating his dick. I am in orgasmic bliss.

Crying now, and begging for release. The response is harder fucking and his teeth at my throat, gnashing and scraping the flesh. She is squeezing my tits and my nipples are poking out and rubbing hard into his chest.

Rocking my hips hard between them, I am squirting and screaming in ecstasy. Shuddering as her nails scrape hard down my back, I am launched into orbit. Endorphine high obliterating all senses excepting pleasure.

Yes... this is what I crave tonight. Come feed your desires in my lust.

Pinned

I love force.

A man who can pin me and force me, has my loyalty. It reminds me of when I was angry with Master.

I was frustrated. I had worn his training collar for 6 months and I felt extremely dissatisfied. He had hinted at things he wanted to share with me, but then wouldn't. He played games with me.. toying with my emotions and my sexuality. I was coming unglued.

I was desperate.

I had a ritual I must follow before arriving at his home. I had to be cleanly waxed. Clothed in only a skirt, blouse and jacket. Thigh high stockings and heels. No panties, no bra. Hair perfect, clean and ready for him.

I had to park across the street and cross to his door. Knock, enter and without looking at him or anything else, remove my jacket, flip up my skirt and kneel in the middle of the floor. Arms stretched out in front of me, awaiting his inspection.

I am angry because I am not getting my way. I am trying to think of ways to get his attention as I feel ignored. I detest being overlooked.

I speak to him. I tell him how angry I am and that I don't want to obey anymore. I tell him that I don't want to come over. I always have to come to his house and he never comes to mine. I am seething inside, my anger is bubbling over inside me and I can not and will not contain it.

He orders me to come over. I tell him FINE but I will not obey anything else. I get in my car and start my trip to his home. My phone rings, he asks what I am wearing and I tell him my bra, panties, dress pants and a shirt. He tells me I best not have bra or panties on when I arrive at his house.

I sneer at him through the phone and ask what will happen if I do. He tells me if I wear them, I will not get anything I want this weekend. No pleasure, it will be a vanilla weekend entirely. I am shaking with rage. Yes rage is the right word now, my anger has intensified and I am clenching my teeth together. I throw my phone on the seat beside me and swear at it.

I get within a block of his house, stop at a gas station go into the bathroom and remove my panties and bra. I jam them into my bag and see there is a message blinking on my phone. It is a text from Master. "I love you even when you are angry Mine, obey me, everything will be ok. ~ Master"

I am nearing tears as my frustration churns in my gut and I feel sick. I park across the street from his house. Angry that I am not even allowed to park in his driveway. He treats me like shit.

I get out of my car and slam the door shut. Stomping across the street and knocking loudly on his door.

The door opens, I can smell him, I won't look at him. I step inside, throw my coat on the floor and pull my pants off and throw them beside it. Messing up Master's perfect house.

I throw myself to the floor wearing only my blouse. Kneeling and stretching out. My breath is coming in gasps and I am nearly sobbing in my emotional state.

I hear him walking around me, I know he is looking down at me. I arch my back and tense every muscle in my body. Trying to close myself off from him in this wide open position he has me in.

His hand is on my butt cheek and I move away from his touch angrily. I don't want him to touch me! I want to speak and I want him to speak! He has not given me words yet and I am bound by my contract to obey him. My emotions whirling inside me, white hot.

He is silent and kneeling behind me. I am breathing in great huffs. He grabs my hips and without any warning he is pushing his cock into me and fucking me.

Fine! I fuck back into him hard. Pushing against him with all my strength. His hands are at my waist and I am growling in low gutteral tones. He is fucking me hard and I am holding back my orgasms.

Suddenly I am flipped on my back and my shirt is ripped open. He is squeezing my tits in his hands. He doesn't look at me, he treats me like a wild animal. I am hitting him and struggling and trying to get away.

He pins me to the floor and his cock is inside me. He is so strong and I am fighting him and gasping and crying and trying to bite him. His hands press me flat to floor and he takes his pleasure. I am squirting all over his cock and I am crying and screaming now "NO NO NO" my body has betrayed me. My passion is so obvious, and I am his to take and mold however he wishes.

He owns me. I am in tears as he whispers in my ear to fight all I want, that my body knows where it belongs. His thrusting is deep and hard and I am cumming again. He pulls out and sprays his cum all over my breasts and tummy.

He gets off me and walks to the kitchen. I can hear water running. I am sitting up on the floor and I am still thrumming with anger. This has solved nothing!

He comes back to me and has a glass of water that he hands to me. I look at it and take it from him. I want to throw it at him, but I don't quite dare. The thought actually scares me a bit. I sob and  burst into tears.

He takes the glass from me and sets it aside. He pulls me into his arms and strokes my hair softly. I am struggling to get away and fighting him and crying. Cussing and telling him I don't want this, telling him how angry I am and how unfair it is. Not using words as he still hasn't given then to me, only in my struggling and wild screams.

He has pinned me flat to the floor in an instant. Face down this time. And he is raping me. I am struggling and trying to get away. His hands are rough and hurting me and his cock is insistent at pulling each shuddering orgasm from deep inside me. The carpet under me is rough and scraping at my skin and the pain only makes me struggling more. His hands pushing me harder and deeper. I teeter on the edge of desire and anger and then tumble off into the abyss that is his passion.

He pulls his cock out of me and sprays cum all over my ass, marking me as his bitch. I am crying now in great racking sobs. He will not even feed me his cum... I am nothing but a cunt now.

I lay there crying, he pulls me up off the floor and cradles me to his chest. His hands are gentle now, and I am sobbing. He just holds me and rubs his hands over my body, he can feel that the stress of all the anger has left me. That and I am no longer trying to hit him.

I look up into his big brown eyes, I see concern and compassion in their depths, behind the confidence that always shines from him. I know my own gaze shows my confusion and my sorrow. I know, in that moment, that he can take anything I throw at him.

He continues to soothe me until I stop crying and then points across the room. There are five white roses and one red rose in a vase. He tells me they are for me. He tells me how beautiful I am, and that the white roses represent the purity and passion I bring to him each time I visit. The red one is my anger.

He asks me what I will do with the red rose. I look up at him and move away to sit cross legged beside him. Pondering the red, vibrant amongst the white. "I will leave it there for you Master, you must take all of me if you want any of me."

His answer is a smile and his hands, his roughened calloused hands, gently pull me back to him.

I am always amazed that I obeyed him even in this absolute rage I was in. I trusted that he could fix it, I trusted that he knew how to take care of me. In that moment, he did.