Tag Archives: restart



I’m still typing these entries on my phone… But there are worse things than lack of a laptop.

Though I’m not gonna lie. I do miss having one.

My car window is fixed and I’m working again. That is a fantastic feeling in and of itself. I have a whiney little cat child that can’t be left alone for too long or he does horribly wicked things… Like eat every flower in the case or open and knock over the giant bottle of lube… So I’m not quite working the hours I was working in December, but I’m slowly putting my life back together.

So far out of the things stolen from me I have reclaimed the cell phone chargers and my books… The books have a story.

I was driving around last night doing the Lyft thing and finally making some much needed funds. There was a particularly difficult passenger in the car next to me, and I was near what I wanted to make for the evening, so I knew he would be the last. He ended up directing me down the route I used to take on the Muni to SFAI what feels like a world ago. While tuning out Mr Difficult I smiled as I passed the It’s A Grind, the cute boutique stores

The Good Vibes.

Did I mention the books that were stolen were kink books?

Technically the first time around the books were free for me.. A world ago Kane and I went to Good Vibes and he went on a bit of a.. Spending spree, purchasing the foundations of our toy bag together. Enough that he managed to fill out four completely stamped discount cards, getting me a total of 40 dollars in free merch… which I spent on boons over about six months.

Yes. Mock me all you want. 40 bucks to a sex toy store and I buy books. They’re good books!!!

Well, before last night I had yet to repurchase a single thing that was lost. I got it stuck in my head that this little pixie would reclaim her books if I could manage to get a parking spot within a block of Good Vibes.

Whelp. I got my spot. I power walked to the store, a determined little soldier on a mission, and walked in just as an orgasm training class was letting out. They had one one the books that I lost.. And another that was similar but not quire right. I took a risk, figuring I could always purchase the other book down the line. Dipshit me couldn’t find my discount card (I had 5 stamp spots left DAMMNIT!).

The nice lady behind the counter stamped up an entire new card for me. So.. Today, I went to Good Vibes #2 and got stolen book #2 for free… Three sexy books for the price of two? I will take that bone, universe.

Next on the list is a new journal and drawing pen. It won’t be from Sir… But I feel naked without it. And drawing and sketching makes me happy. Writing makes me happy.

I like being happy. What a concept. And I can be happy outside of situations where I’m strapped to a cross with a flogger striking my ass repeatedly.

I do miss those moments though.

I didn’t expect while I was reclaiming bits and pieces of myself that were taken that my Dominant would reclaim me.

After a hard day of work there is no better sight than a sexy Dom with a strawberry shake.

Okay. Backtrack. I hadn’t seen Kane in 5 days. 5 LONG days.. I had finally hit the ultimate sexual wall. I could no longer make myself cum with a vibrator and fantasy alone. After nearly a month without feeling Kane’s hands on me my body just quit listening. And I couldn’t make myself think about anyone else’s hands until I felt his on me again. He’s been going through so much and been so stressed.. And I knew that. But he had been so distant. I fought feelings of rejection.. A raw gut feeling that he no longer desired me. Or that he has too much going on to want his sub. That I can’t ease his worries even for a little while made me feel like a failure as a sub. But of course I never discussed this with him. He was too stressed as it was.

I was mentally doing backflips when Kane said he could see me tonight… He gave me everything that I had been needing all in one night.

He showed up with food and a strawberry shake.. Which doesn’t seem like a big deal.. But it’s a little detail he thought of. Strawberry flavored ANYTHING is my favorite. With how much was on his mind, that he remembered that little detail.. It meant a lot.

We snuggled, we talked.. He was holding me but not kissing me, not touching me… My insecurities were going ape shit. All those little voices scurried into my ear and whispered “he’s ending things. He doesn’t want you as a submissive. You’re too much work. You’ve failed him too much.”

At one point he had me presenting my ass to him to take a spanking, back arched. If I took the spanking well I got the fucking I craved. If I didn’t he would plow into my ass, cum, and that would be that.

I cried when he spanked me. I couldn’t keep my back arched through it all. I’ve performed better in the past.. But it had been over a month since I had been seriously spanked and my pain tolerance was shot.

“Do you deserve to be fucked?”

Did I?
Was this a trick question?
Did I fail him again?

“I don’t know”.

Over and over he asked. Over and over I answered that I didn’t know. I finally cracked.

“I don’t know if you want me anymore.”

I heard my Dominant sigh. “Lay back”.

Completely naked, still teary eyes, I laid back in his arms. The fatigued eyes of Kane were gone.. I was looking at my Sir, taking control, correcting and calming his submissive. If my panties weren’t already off I’m pretty sure they would have magically disappeared.

“How many times do I have to tell you? It’s not about the pain or how much you can take. It’s about your willingness to submit. To let me push you. To take you there. Letting me spank you until you were crying? ” He gave me a look. “I would say you were pretty deserving. I just wanted to hear that you thought you were.”

By the end of the night he took what was his in every way imaginable. I missed my Sir.. Seeing him again was.. Incredible. I was so afraid he was gone for good. Now my body is singing… Every muscle content. I was taken. I was used for his pleasure. And I could not be happier.

He took the time at the end of the night to outright squash some of my insecurities. Yes, he still wants me. Yes, he still loves me. No, him not seeing me has nothing to do with him wanting to see someone else.

There is a light at the end of the tunnel. Right now a lot sucks. But things will get better.

Eventually, I will financially be able to get back all that I lost.

Kane will be able to breathe again, in a new place with a new start.

My Dom still wants me and loves me.. And GODDE do I love and want him.

I am very happily and proudly his little monster.

Yours (FINALLY!) sexually sated


The Sleeping Man

I wanted to write this before I forget.

-On a side note, I would love to know when I reached that age where you start forgetting things. I’m twenty-three and I feel like a damn old lady sometimes..but that is a rant for another day.

My daddy and I are extremely close. As close as we are, we rarely talk on the phone for more than a few minutes. That’s just not how we are. One of the main reasons I need to come see my parents every few months is because that’s when my dad and I have our Talks. The big, monumental, this just mentally kicked you on your ass and then slapped your mama Talks. This last trip home was no exception to this.

We were driving into the City (New York) for a Rena-Daddy day (what we’ve called it since I was little.. basically a day where it was just the two of us either going to the movies, or the mall, or for pizza, etc) when he first explained the Sleeping Man to me. My dad and I both have a form of depression, as does my older cousin, her mother, and my grandmother. It’s never been officially diagnosed, but there’s been reference to a “family disease” on more than one occasion and I know enough about psychiatry to know what I have. It’s not a constant depressive state, it spikes when things get rough and we get stuck.

My dad finally gave our stuck-ness a name. “It’s like we have a sort of form of schizophrenia” he said to me as we drove over the GW Bridge. “There is who we think of as ourselves, the person who has all these ideas and all these things we want to do, all this ambition, and then there’s what we become when the Sleeping Man takes over. He’s who makes it all stop. He’s the voice telling you ‘Oh, I’ll do it after this TV show’ or ‘Maybe I should finish that next season’. The Sleeping Man makes us into toxic people. He puts us almost into a stasis so that we can’t move forward with our lives. Our lives become a constant battle against the Sleeping Man to accomplish what we want. We constantly fight that urge to get stuck, to stop, to fall into a status where nothing can touch us, but things that don’t adapt and change are eventually destroyed.”

There was more, but you get the gist of it.

From our Sleeping Man discussion we walked to one of my favorite places on Earth, the Museum of Modern Art. Inside those walls are the oldest of my old friends, from Starry Night to The Dance to Red Studio to the giant water lily canvases that first convinced me to love art. We hadn’t planned to go…we just kind of ended up there on a whim. By chance the weekend before a new timed show had opened on the upper floor. Timed shows mean more for the price of admission, so we moaned and groaned and said we would only see it if it was absolutely spectacular or one of our old friends.

Well, it was both. I have worshipped Henri Matisse as an artist and a man for many years. I love him because even as his body failed him he continued to work. He adapted, changing from medium to medium instead of giving up and settling into what old age would mean for his arthritic body. When the man could not hold a brush he held scissors and cut paper shapes out, then used a pointer to direct where the shapes would go on his piece.

What was held within the MoMA’s walls was not A Matisse show, it was THE Matisse show. All of his cut paper pieces under one roof; things I had seen in art history and in books suddenly in front of my eyes. I could go on about this show for hours…but this is normally a BDSM based blog and I worry about boring you with my vanilla life away from my Dom.

I will mention that all four of the Blue Nudes were there. Under one roof. On one wall. I may have cried.

Afterward, my daddy and I stumbled out of the show speechless. I immediately texted my Dom to see if I could purchase the book from the show, something I almost never do, and hugged it like a precious treasure once it was in my possession. My dad and I are both artists. We both have the sleeping man and we were both at low points before my visit. Seeing that show, seeing the art that we both new and loved in front of us, was like taking a baseball bat to the Sleeping Man. I remembered why I made art.

I also came to the realization as we left the museum that while I loved drawing and painting it wasn’t enough to help me shake my moods. I needed wet clay on my hands. I needed the wheel, my tools, glazes. I needed the heat of the kiln and the feel of bisqued clay as I tried to cover it in the perfect glazes, concocting like a mad scientist. I need long nights lost in the studio, dancing to music blasted through headphones as I thrust clay through slap rollers and make characters appear from a block of while goo. I needed my world back in order to get the release I associate with producing artwork. I needed the studio to produce again.

I don’t know how Kane does what he does…how he knows me so well. That evening after returning home from the city I received a text from him informing me that my schedule would be changing; that even though I was not working full time I would be having eight hour work days. I would spend time doing Lyft or nannying, or whatever I had that day, and the remainder of the eight hours would be spent in the studio. It would be treated as a job. I was to go to the studio every day and create. He had me make up a list of supplies to get started again, and informed me that this would be put into place very soon. I wanted to cry.

The Sleeping Man can be conquered. I’m determined to prove that.

And now I need to pack. This is my last evening at my parent’s home. I fly back on a 7:30 a.m. flight, it’s 1 a.m. now and I have nothing packed.

Nothing like cutting it close đŸ˜›

Yours feeling much better


I’m Still Alive!


GAH…barely, but I am.

I’m actually quite a bit better than I was a couple of weeks ago. Finals…bad juju. False friends…also bad juju.

A lot has happened in the last couple weeks. I started and stopped several blog posts, almost like in the beginning.. Too much. I got too overwhelmed to update.

First off… on the vanilla front my job is fantastic. I am in absolute love..even though the paperwork is proving to be a huge pain in the ass. The job requires health information and doctors stuff… I’m a bad 20something. I haven’t had a primary care doctor since I outgrew my pediatrician. So…that may take some figuring. Time to pull up my big girl pants and actually figure out this real life shit.

Not being a student for the first time in my life is an..odd feeling, especially when I was so set on going to grad school. My health insurance may be at risk because of it..but I will figure all that out.

I was at work the other day on my lunch break when I began thinking of all my firsts for the next year, and the past few months. Certain things I love and look forward to (first Dom, first collar, first poly relationship, first big girl job, first actual non-shoebox apartment) and certain things are hard (first Mother’s Day away from home, first time missing my daddy’s birthday when I’m the only one that ever makes a big deal of it, first summer away from my baby sister). A lot of what I’m not looking forward to are things that were staples, traditions, that I’m missing, but that’s part of growing up and gaining your own life. Growing pains are always hard. If they weren’t, they would have a different fricken nickname.

On a BDSM front… Okay where do I start.

The beginning, I guess. Which is where Sir and I have started again. I imploded, there is no two ways around it, and I screwed up in a big way. While I expected all of the blame to be put on my rookie mistake and for him to walk away, frustrated, Sir took some of the blame for my behavior as well. We talked, it got emotional (it often does…) and decided to start from the beginning, doing this the right way. Not rushed, because I’m disappearing. The pressure of me going poof is no longer there. Which means I will get my collar when I’ve earned it.


I make chainmail jewelry. A couple weeks ago, Sir tasked me with making my own collar. He had picked out a particularly challenging weave and instructed me to create a collar similar to that, and to think about what it meant, what the relationship meant, all aspects of it, while I made it. Well… once I got the weave down I made it in a couple hours..and a few days later saw a very similar collar in a shop window. My inner artist twitched, and I asked Sir if I could make another one, with a weave that seemed more unique and more fitting. He granted my request, and I made it in a couple of days (It’s now my new favorite weave to do ^.^ Is fun…).

The day after I imploded, Sir and I met up for the evening. I gave him the collar that I had made. He picked it up, contemplated it, played with it… and tasked me with something that requires quite a bit more patience. I am to make a carbon copy of the collar I showed him that night, exact in every detail. I have to do it by earning _every_last_ring_. Each evening, I ask Sir before bed how many links I can add to my collar. Some nights are more than others. I get one link just for asking, and I get more if I’ve done something proving certain submissive behaviors, or done anything particularly pleasing to him. I’ve learned to adjust the times I ask because there are times when he passes out or is busy or I pass out and I miss my chance.

Last night, I earned 10 rings. I went to a kink coffee social for beginners in the BDSM world and hit it off with a guy. He’s pan-sexual, and the typical type of guy I am attracted to. Big. Scruffy. Could toss me around like a hot potato. He pulled my chair out for me when I came over to sit down and kept sending me glances.. and so I sent them back. And then we talked after…and we cuddled a bit, and we kissed. He was even gentlemanly and walked me back to my apartment.

A very sweet fella, and definitely someone I will hang out with in the future…but no romantic potential. He’s nice… but the intellectual conversations just aren’t there (a brain is a huge turn on), and he may Top from time to time…but he is not a Dom. He’s a switch, and tends to be more of a bottom with women. Both were huge buzz kills for me. He was a decent kisser, however, and I was proud of myself for putting myself out there. So was Sir đŸ™‚

I’m still working on the whole dating thing.. I feel like I haven’t experienced enough of what being a sub really is, what it means, to tackle another Dom. I don’t want a vanilla relationships, and casual anything seems to always come with catches. I thought coffee house guy would be some casual fun until he mentioned taking things slow.

….Taking what slow? We have things? Mrow? Damn.

I’m hoping to click with someone eventually. The more things I go to, the more I expose myself to, the more people I meet and the more chances of me hitting it off with someone. I’m even attempting to be on Fetlife more. I joined a group that posts classifieds seeking D/s partners, for curiosities sake of what’s out there more than anything else. I read, I learn. I ask Sir questions when I have them. I earn my collar link by link. So far, I’ve earned 21 rings. Only about 120 or so to go. No, I haven’t counted every last ring that I have to earn. If I do, I will obsess, and I don’t want that. I’ll get the collar when I’m supposed to.

I had a conversation with Sir a few days ago after another meltdown that made some things just…click with me. I was beating the shit out of myself. I hate disappointing him, HATE IT. I don’t want him to regret picking me when I wanted him to so badly. I voiced my fears to him. He said, “Well get through it, little one. Together.” Neither of us had realized just how stubborn I was..just how hard I was clinging to that last bit holding me back from completely submitting to him.

Submission is a choice. I find myself rereading this blog post almost daily lately to remind myself of that http://servingmaster.com/2014/04/24/the-good-submissive/ . I recommend it. I remind myself that I am choosing this path, that I want this, need this. I need to trust Sir, obey him, and submit.

That evening after the meltdown, when Sir told me that we would get through it all together, he also said that he would turn me into a submissive than any Dom would be proud to have, and that he would help me find a Dom, wherever I was, when the time is right. I adore Sir, truly. I trust him completely. When he says it’s going to be okay and that we’ll get through it, he means it and I believe him. I still have so much to learn..so much I need to let myself learn, but I’m on the right track.

The night of the munch everyone went around and told people who they were and why they were there. When I introduced myself I mentioned that I was there because the Dom mentoring me thought it would be a good activity for me to go to; that he and his girlfriend/submissive were very experienced in BDSM and I was as green as green could be and he wanted me to get some exposure to others, connect to people both green and experienced. Meet people in general. The Dom heading the meeting said, “You are very, VERY lucky your Dom found you, because there are some psychos out there…there are a lot of psychos out there. It seems you have one of the real ones.”

I know I’m lucky. I’m grateful. And I’m definitely changing, slowly, for the better.

More to come… when things settle a bit.