June 20, 2000

I've had writer's block (or is it journalist's block?) for the last few days.  Ideas drift through my mind, but never seem to cement themselves into anything worth writing down.  Even now, i'm finding myself drifting away, thoughts of the work still to be done today are pulling at me.  i'm sitting here with a towel wrapped around my wet hair, the apartment is a mess, and i've work to do on my latest adventure.  

     The Project is once again on the back burner.  Sometimes i wonder if i am ever going to get it done, or if it will be a constant thorn in my side.  But i am doing more webpages, and working on short stories, so i'm not totally wasting my time.  And the latest adventure, learning about and compiling an ezine, is proving to be a great challenge.  

     Hint about the 'zine:  people are wondering why a submissive is doing it.  

     He made me crawl, at the end of our scene the other night.

     We began with a nice dinner together.  Master barbecued lamb and potatoes, then artfully arranged the lamb upon a bed of slivered cucumber with the tiny cubes of the potato nestled beside.  It looked very elegant, and we enjoyed a bottle of red wine and candlelight.  Before i was allowed to sit at the table however, He fastened both the wrist and the ankle cuffs onto me.  i always love wearing them, they put my head into a secure and safe place, owned.  i have the pressure of the leather against my skin, and the soft creaking sounds as i move, whispering in my ear and it keeps my senses hyper aware.

     After dinner we enjoyed a few moments at the computers.  Then Master left me alone for a short bit, while He arranged the living room to His liking.  He opened up the futon part-way, so that it was in a lounge position, and carefully arranged the toys from the toy bag.  i was summoned.

     For some reason, i always seem to enjoy mock-struggling with Him when He is attempting to tie me.  And i never struggle very hard, but just enough to show some defiance.  But this time, the fight back set the tone for the rest of the scene.  Of course He won, and i quickly found myself bound to the frame of the futon, facing the back rest, the red rope entwined through the rings on my cuffs.  

     We'd both had a couple days of being edgy with each other because we haven't felt 100% healthy, and i think that was also influential to how the scene progressed.  He used more stingy, scratchy toys and seemed more aggressive in His approach.    Everything was sharper, more abrupt.  A few times i found myself moaning; 'no no no ... please', although i didn't use any safe words but i do remember my jaw being firmly clenched.  i heard a woman's voice sing out with the music from the cd player as i felt my vagina being invaded by His fingers.  Hard, and it felt like He had the chainmail (sp) glove on.  He ran two knives over all of my body, simultaneously, and then the surgical wheel.  The scene seemed to gone on for deliciously ever and i floated.

     He undid the ropes from the futon frame, leaving them attached to my cuffs, and pulled me down to the floor, then put His foot on my back.  i heard His voice far away, telling me to go to the bedroom.  Yet when i tried to rise up to go, He increased the pressure of His foot, and that's when i understood that i was to crawl.  As the realization of what He wanted sunk in, a flicker of an emotion i am hard pressed to describe went through my foggy mind.  Indignant, grateful, aroused, puzzled that i was actually doing it.  Embracing something that for me always seemed humiliating.  Yet i absorbed it into myself, reveled in it.  It defined who we are and how we are.  It put us back in balance.  

     When i woke up the next morning, the cuffs still on and the ropes still tied to them, i was infinitely more peaceful.  Back in my "place", where i prefer to be.  And though i protest that i am an independent sort of person, fiercely so sometimes, i know that i am only really "me" when i don't fight my side of the circle.  

     i think i'm also beginning to understand how much i need and desire to have that shown to me often.  i need to be tugged by the rope that secures me to my anchor.  Pushed and pulled and demanded upon.  Hair pulled, clothing chosen, instructions given, kneeling expected.  It helps me keep a sense of perspective while dealing with the day to day trials of life.  It reminds me of where my niche is.  It satisfies the physical and the emotional.  

     i'll probably still "fight"; my personality's too strong not to.  And to be blunt, it turns me on as well.  But i know He's up to the challenge.