this submissive's point of view..

     Master's day off was Monday. When He returned to work the next day He found that 50% of employees had been let go, fired. On Wed., shortly after He arrived at work, He was called to the top office. They did not fire Him. They laid Him off, calling it a "furlough". Furlough means He would be at the top of the call back list. They told Him that because of His age and health issues they wanted Him to stay well at home and out of harms way. They told Him He is essential personel and they need Him.

     I am so glad to have Him home safe with me. Plans are walks together, (something we haven't been able to do since He was always sleeping or working), working out in the yard, and working on a vegetable garden. Things that will keep us outside in the sunshine and fresh air. Things that are pleasurable to us both. Things that will keep our minds occupied and not worrying about what's going on in this crazy time.

    Please E/everyone stay well

            I haven't written in a while. A place of no thought, or better said, a place where I don't let my thoughts bother me. I needed to numb my brain against thoughts of my elderly mother, thoughts of Master's health, thought of which one would leave this earth first. I also needed to numb negative self thinking, blaming myself for not taking better care of myself. This state of "limbo" happens twice a year and I will soon be out of it. Spring is nearly upon us.

            My roots have already started pushing shoots up through the ground, my arms reaching out toward the sun. More healthy eating and added movement, coaxing myself forward. I will be ok.

            I was shaken awake this past Monday.

           Monday was Master's day off. We were napping in the back part of the house. Master jumped out of bed and I assumed to use the bathroom. In mere seconds He was back waking me up to tell me the house next door was on fire and we should get out. It seems that the firetrucks had been there a little while atleast. (No one knocked on our door). I called down to my son that we needed to vacate the house, then I went back to the bedroom to put on some pants and a sweatshirt, (it was very windy out and around 40 degrees), so I grabbed my heavy hoody as well.

           When Master and my son exitted the front door, the cops faces dropped. (They assumed nobody was in the house, even though my car was parked right there at the front door). Cops asked if anyone was still in the house and Master said I was comming. They were ready to come in after me. (amazing considering they never knocked in the first place).

           The house that was on fire was only about 25' away from our house. Strong winds drove the fire. We were very thankful that the wind never switched to our direction. Fire trucks from 5 surrounding towns responded. Neighbors and others flooded the street, some toting cameras, most using their cell phones. (What a way to meet your neighbor). Some people were scurrying to alternative streets to catch their children's school bus. It was after school time and kids were due to be dropped off, but our entire street was closed down.

          We were outside for about two and a half hours. We spent some time in our back yard, Master getting pictures. (The smoke blew right by our yard never crossing our fence). Once again thankful.

          There were about 40 firefighters there. How do I know? After the fire was out they all got into a big group to pose for picture. I had never seen a house fire before, and learned something I found interesting, even though it made sense. Two fire fighters pulled a couple of coolers filled with bottled water. One had his arm ful of boxes of candy and snacks, while yet two more carried a table and set it in the middle of the street. It not only met their need for hydration and their need for nutrients and carbs, but also served as a decompression of the dangerous job they just did.

Was a crazy afternoon.

I wanted to let everyone know that I haven't disappeared. Between doctor's visits and helping my 84 yr old mother, I have become sick myself. Full blown head cold here. Lack of proper sleep because of it. I feel miserable. So writing has not been my number one priority.

         I had an internet discussion with someone last week. It was about the world and outlook of life as it pertained to our personal lives. They went first, talking about what they do and how it makes them feel. I followed with what I liked to do and how it makes me happy. Then I posted these last few lines..

       "The world"? I am an empath. Thoughts of the world such as it is gives me both a headache and heartache. Yes I can certainly imagine , "the glass half full", and totally convince myself of it, although always "waiting for the other shoe to drop".

         I've never dwelt on my own words before, but somehow these few lines caught something within me. I saved them and look at them off and on. What am I supposed to learn from these words, if anything. Funny thing. That were the last few lines I typed to this person, who has ghosted me ever since. 

         So, what does it mean?

     He stepped from the shower, quickly towel drying His hair, then wrapped the towel around His waist. His 6'1" frame covered in bronze glistening muscles in all the right places. He walked to the sink, and as He shaved He looked into His own peircing green eyes, trying to decide what He was in the mood for that day.

     Freshly dressed in jeans and a wrinkle free light green button down shirt, rolled and cuffed neatly to just below His elbows. He grabbed His phone and dialed her number. He wanted a drink and wanted "her" to serve it, even though they hadn't spoken in awhile. He instructed her as to what to wear and told her her name for the day would be "Patti". That wasn't her name, but He liked making up names for His girls.

     An hour passed and there was a knock at His back door. He opened the door and there stood this little ghostlike figure. She was albino and just 5' tall, petite frame with round buttucks and adequate breasts. Short white hair, white blemish free skin, lavender eyes without any trace of makeup. She wore a short white trench coat and transparent white shoes with 6" heels. The only color being her red painted toe nails. He led her through the door and helped her remove her coat. "Welcome Patti", He said.

     She was wearing a red corset with black laces and ribbons. She was also wearing red bikini panties with a little black bow at each hip. "Patti, I want a drink. Hope you can remember what My favorite is", He said, and settled into an oversized chair facing toward the bar. She approached the bar, a little shaky in her 6" heels, her hips hypnoticaly swaying. Grabbing a clean glass, she rewashed it then dried it to sparkling with a clean bar towel. She bent forward at the hips to grab a lime from the lower cabinet. "mmm", He muttered to Himself. Hearing that, she wiggled her hips a little and grinned to herself. Oh what He wanted to do with those sweet white buttocks framed in red. Thoughts of making those butt cheeks pink, then pinker, then red, caused His cock to come alive, pressing against the inside of His jeans.

     Prepared drink between two hands, she approached Him. She settled submissively to her knees in front of Him, however, instead of lowering her head while handing it to Him, she looked up into His eyes and winked. "Your drink Sir", she said. His face started to turn red, but not because He was blushing. All His "girls" knew not to wink at Him. He considered it as disrespectful. Placing the drink on the table beside Him and picking up a leather fly swatter, He looked back at her, her head and eyes now lowered.

     "Patti", He said in a stern voice. "Stay kneeling and turn around with your chest on the floor and your butt in the air". She complied and assumed the position, secretly smiling to herself. This is what she wanted more than anything. She wiggled a little after the first swat to her left butt cheek. He swatted harder on her right. Again she wiggled. Eight more swats and she wiggled each time. With measured anger at her disrespect, He set the swatter aside. He knew what she wanted. She wanted her ass made so red as to add color to her pale white skin. He was angered by her disrespect and knew how to punish her for it.

     He grabbed her by the back of her hair, lifting her to her feet and pushed her into the bedroom. On the floor in the corner of the room was a twin size mattress with a clean fitted sheet, no pillow. At each corner, attached to the floor were metal rings. He pushed her toward the mattress and instructed her to lay on her stomach, her head facing the wall. "and don't turn around". She heard thuds and clinking from behind her as He rummaged through a drawer. Her heart beat faster with excitement and anticipation. "Sir", she began. He quickly cut her off. "STOP", He commanded loudly. "You have lost your right to speak. you've obviously forgotten how not to disrespect Me".

     All of a sudden she felt His weight holding her down, as He used leather straps to attach her wrists then her ankles to the rings on the floor. She felt something sharp and pointy trail over her already pink butt cheek. It's then she became apprehensive and tested against the leather straps. "How would you like if I disrespected you?" "I", she started. "DON"T SPEAK", He commanded loudly. He stood above her, straddling the mattress. He dangled a flogger which He affectionately called "the stinger", back and forth, tickling against the back of her thighs. She tried pushing her ass up toward Him in sweet anticipation of the next swat. With a quick stroke back and forth, flogger meeting flesh hard against her thighs. The sting made her flinch and pull against her binds. "Not exactly what you expected is it?", He exclaimed. "Well there is more for you that you do not expect. You will learn not to disrespect Me".

     He walked away from the matress, grabbed His jacket and keys, and said, "I'll be back in two hours, plenty of time for you to think of a proper way to appologize". She heard the outside door close behind Him. She pulled against the leather straps, then collapsed in tears. She had winked at Him in playfulness not disrespect. She never expected ending up in her current position.

When I was 23 I wrote a poem that got published on the editorial page of the Sunday paper. (I was given copies). Every year from sixth grade to Senior year, my daughter took a copy of that paper to school for Women Authors Day. (She was born five years after I wrote it). That poem was apropriate for when I wrote it, and all the years she took it to school, and is still apropriate today.

Know The Facts

You know my name but you don't know me.
now, isn't it time you tried,
to know me as I really am
so I'll no longer have to hide?

Ignorance breeds slander,
and in a small town news travels fast.
Please don't judge my future
by mistakes I made in the past.

Most of your rumors have no basis,
from lies they were created
to satisfy your need for gossip,
and keep your tongues well sated.

So know the facts before you speak
of something that may not be true.
The next victim of ignorance
could very well be you.

     Every fairytale has a "bump in the road", something that must be fought and passed before the "happily ever after". This is a story about O/ours, a story that needed to be written and read. Master has read through this whole story, some of which He didn't know till He read it. After a day of pondering, He gave His permission for me to post it here.

     The following is the story, written in three blog posts that were posted in reverse order so as to be read properly.

     About three months after I got rid of my biggest real world problem, Master's real world problems ramped up in frequency and intensity. We saw each other less often, both disappointed.

     One afternoon I drove the hour from my house to where He worked. He knew I was coming. He walked from the building, a somber look on His face as He walked to my car and got in beside me. To my suprize He didn't lean in to kiss me. We spent many moments with Him quietly looking at the floor, and I staring at Him without breathing. Then He broke the scilence with the words He had to say. "I can't see you anymore". Then He fell silent again.

     I drew in a long breath and blew it out slowly, looking everywhere but at Him, trying not to cry. I didn't rant. I didn't rave. I was in shock with my heart breaking. Tears escaped my eyes as I asked Him why, even though I knew why. He told me He needed to spend more time and attention at home. I understood and He knew I understood, but didn't keep my heart from breaking or my mind from racing. I looked away from Him as He exited the car, and I began my long ride home.

     Using the self calming and coping ways He had taught me, I got home safely between my tears. A quiet mocking laugh escaped me as I shook my head. He did not formerly release me. He hadn't taken back His collar, or His silver band from my finger. It felt like a cruel joke.

     I entered my house, thankfully empty. The dam of self control burst into hot tears, loud sobs trying to ease this horrible pain in my heart. I placed my collar and ring into the bottom drawer of my dresser, then flopped onto my bed punching pillows and yelling, "why? why? why?". Time ticked by. Tears, heartache, questions filled me. Anger, not at Him, Yes at HIM! Why had He not properly released me? Why Had He not broke the bond by taking back my collar? It wasn't right. It wasn't fair. It became what hurt me the most.

     Exhausted by tears and emotions I eventually fell asleep before my daughter got home from work.

     The next morning my daughter, 17, came into my room to let me know she was leaving for school. Immediately she noticed my puffy red eyes and the sadness on my face. I told her that "R" and I had broken up. (I never referred to Him as Master in front of her). Tears fell from her eyes as she hugged me and held me, trying to console me. She loved Him too, especially since He made me the happiest she had ever seen me.

     After she left I got a fresh coffee and looked to the internet for .. I didn't know what. I packed a bowl and started nursing it. I began by visiting the online site where we had met. I went through every room looking for signs that he had been there. Stopping at a quiet room, no postings for days. This room was meant for O/ones to rant, rave, vent. That is just what I did. Crying, venting, sitting back to think and then clutching my chest, feeling hollow, then typing some more. I was a physical, emotional, and mental mess, but I didn't care. I had no closure. Why didn't he take back his collar?

     For the next three and a half months I began leading a very unsafe life as far as the lifestyle. (Always when my daughter was at school or work). Hours spent at the keyboard, chatting, emails, people who said they were "Dom" wanting to do unimaginably cruel things to me. "I didn't care". There were four that I met, (not so cruel), although they each had their own kinks, at restraunts out to dinner. I needed to be "safe" for my daughter. The first two, there was no "chemistry". The third one I saw a second time, at my house. He taught me about candle wax. The fourth one I saw three times. The first two times we met out to dinner, then went into His SUV to just talk. The third time we got together for dinner at a place near where I lived, then went back to my house. He helped me experience light rope bondage, as well as a "crop" at different intensities, after which we talked for almost two hours.

     This last Dom was a very nice man. Through all the talking we had done I had come back to almost the center of myself. The miles between us caused us to remain just friends. We kept in touch online.

     I needed to stop looking for a Dom. I needed to "Dom" myself, be my own boss. My self esteem increased the more I did things that made me happy, including my artwork that had long been put aside. After awhile I settled into my "new normal" and began to live again, sometimes plagued with the empty feeling in my heart.

     Six months passed and I received an email. My heart didn't know which way to go. It was from "R". I took a few moments trying to decide whether I should open it. With hands shaking, through fear and hope, I clicked on the email.

     He began by apologizing for the circumstances surrounding our separation. He went on to tell about the events of his almost year of being back with his son's mother. (not married) She had become a threat to herself and all around her. "Enough was enough", I quote him.

     He rented a house in the town where he worked, and took his 8 year old son and 15 year old stepson to this house for their own protection. He got a restraining order against her coming near the house or the children. He said he would like me to be a part of his life again, as friends. Inspite of all that had happened between us, part of my heart still had a hole that could only be filled by him, even if "just a friend". I needed to think about it.

     After two days of deep thought and reflection, I contacted him by phone. The conversation was awkward, each trying to avoid saying something that would bring up hurtful issues. The next morning I was on my way to his house.

     It was a warm, sunny September day. My car windows were down, as I drove over back roads surrounded by leaves changing colors. I concentrated on the beauty instead of apprehensive thoughts. An hour passed and I pulled up in front of his house. He opened the door before I could knock and I entered to meet his sons for the first time. This was going to be interesting.

     I began visiting him once a week on weekends. After awhile it became once a week for three days at a time. My daughter was almost 18. She was a very responsible young women. It was fine leaving her alone for three days at a time. We considered it as preparation for when she would be on her own. (It had been agreed to that when she graduated and turned 18, that her father could have his house back). After my daughter's birthday, I moved to "R"'s.

     After weeks, months of talking whenever we had the time and privacy, forgiveness given for that which was out of our control. W/we came to a decision. Admittedly the way the separation happened was all wrong. Those thoughts will remain as a lesson going forward. O/our hearts were once again whole. W/we were very much still Dom and sub, after having endured and survived the realities that had been placed in O/our path.