How do you feel about being a slave?
This question was asked by K, a dom from Southampton who I had the most wonderful conversations with in the last week (on a date with him next week, everybody cross fingers please!).
I found it difficult to answer. Mainly I think because there seems to be a variety of understandings about the term. And so, I had to first explain and figure out what I thought Frans meant with it when he called me “slavin”, a word I find more beautiful than anything else still.
And so I came to the conclusion that it meant hard work, a slave works. Everything had to be done for him, I would have had to follow him round everywhere he went and then do whatever he wanted. From things like making the coffee or taking something out of the cupboard, to wiping his cock after weeing.
Also, I think a slave offers a deeper form of submissiveness, and gives up certain rights. For example the right to clothing, orgasms, …
Very important to Frans was also no longer being allowed to use a stopword during physical play.
He wanted an all-round complete surrender (apart from my responsibilities towards my child).
And I had no problem with it. I loved it and it had set me free in a way. It felt liberating to be allowed to be his slavin. It was difficult at times though. Because he tolerated no mistakes, and was very harsh in his punishments.
Still, I didn’t really live it. He was after all not here. And altough I did everything he said, felt extremely submissive towards him, and certainly developed certain areas of my personality it was not 100% real. And so the big question is if I would have been happy in true slavery. And that I don’t know of course.
I do know however, that I do not want to become an object, loose my identity or femininity. Which is perhaps what some people would understand as being part of slavery.
Despite some good prospects, lots of distraction, lots of work, birthday coming up, etc... still struggling with the idea of Frans. I hate to admit it, especially to friends, because they know me as a happy, optimistic, can-take-it-all-and-move-on-quickly type, and I don’t want to bore them so don’t talk about it. But there is still not a day that goes past without thinking of him. And still not with a smile on my face for the good he has brought to my life. I am actually kind of bitter almost about him. I keep wondering why he had to come into my life, with what purpose. And why the hell it hurts so much for so long.
Closing today with a quote from Diogenes of Synope:
“The art of being a slave is to rule one's master.”
Sunday, May 28, 2006
Monday, May 15, 2006
IT’S RAINING MEN
High time for a happier blog. Today I took a sick day, and lazed in bed all morning. Apart from masturbating, I also caught up on watching some DVD’s. Until I got “found out” by R. Then I had to rush out of bed and start the tidy up of a lifetime and a quick shower to look a tiny bit presentable –and not like someone who has been feeling sorry for herself for ages.
It sort of worked, but he immediately found the room in which all the laundry was quickly thrown onto a pile, gathered from the floor in the whole rest of the house. So although it looked tidy, the magic of it was spoilt.
After he left, I got on with a bit of work in Access (one of my favourite passtimes, I’m ashamed to say). Whilst doing this, I downloaded a few songs. Uplifting disco tunes (no, I am not a closet disco diva disguised as goth) I had heard at a wedding party last weekend. I got up and danced and sang to “I will survive”, “I am what I am” and “It’s raining men”.
I know, I know, when you’re all done laughing and pulled yourself back onto your chairs reading this… It worked!! I am actually feeling better. I’m even thinking of changing my profiles again.
Last week I started writing to Frans. I thought long and hard about it, and decided to just start writing. Just get things off my chest that way, but in a calm and composed way. I love writing, and can spend absolute hours on searching for the right words and trying to find the right tonality. The aim is to create a very calm, but still sharpish and to the point letter. Every day, or whenever I can and feel up to, I add little bits. Until everything is said. Then I will re-read it a dozen times and sleep on it. Whether or not I will ever send it, I haven’t decided yet. But I do think it will help myself to come to terms with it, be calm in my grief, and perhaps get more insight and clarity in the why it hurts so much.
This weekend was also special, although in a completely different way. I experienced a massive culture shock! It was at the wedding party, where I saw a group of 4 bleached blond women, wearing sparkly dresses… The “blond club” made me cringe, and I looked with a painful expression on my face at them, when they came to dance in a circle on the dancefloor. I was just telling my Friend N (female, also dark-haired) about how horrible a sight it was to me, and that I thought that this type of stereotype woman didn’t really exist, but got exhagerated through humor. But oh no…it got worse…. They then put their handbag in the middle of their cirle –now clearly marked cause they were holding hands…!!!!!! I had to look away….This was not true, it couldn’t be! Oh my… oh my…. no, I couldn’t believe it. It is not a myth… they really do exist!!
I ran away, to my boss P. He is like a father, and always find him to be like a safe haven. And indeed now as well, when he saw me shaking like a leave whilst I was explaining I needed him to get over the shock, he did the right thing and got me a double vodka and orange juice. He kept me well topped up the rest of the night. Such a wise man!
So, planning on not crying the whole rest of the day. I keep the uplifting music going. I just had an online chat with the man of the couple I will be meeting this weekend and that was nice. Also tonight I got another online chat planned, with a dom from London who seems interesting. And then later tonight looking forward to a very horny conversation with T on the phone.
To finish this blog, I share a quote I came across last week and made me realise again how single life is to be cherished and treasured. Cause sadly all too right she was when Katherine Hepburn said:
"If you want to sacrifice the admiration of many men for the criticism of one, go ahead, get married."
It sort of worked, but he immediately found the room in which all the laundry was quickly thrown onto a pile, gathered from the floor in the whole rest of the house. So although it looked tidy, the magic of it was spoilt.
After he left, I got on with a bit of work in Access (one of my favourite passtimes, I’m ashamed to say). Whilst doing this, I downloaded a few songs. Uplifting disco tunes (no, I am not a closet disco diva disguised as goth) I had heard at a wedding party last weekend. I got up and danced and sang to “I will survive”, “I am what I am” and “It’s raining men”.
I know, I know, when you’re all done laughing and pulled yourself back onto your chairs reading this… It worked!! I am actually feeling better. I’m even thinking of changing my profiles again.
Last week I started writing to Frans. I thought long and hard about it, and decided to just start writing. Just get things off my chest that way, but in a calm and composed way. I love writing, and can spend absolute hours on searching for the right words and trying to find the right tonality. The aim is to create a very calm, but still sharpish and to the point letter. Every day, or whenever I can and feel up to, I add little bits. Until everything is said. Then I will re-read it a dozen times and sleep on it. Whether or not I will ever send it, I haven’t decided yet. But I do think it will help myself to come to terms with it, be calm in my grief, and perhaps get more insight and clarity in the why it hurts so much.
This weekend was also special, although in a completely different way. I experienced a massive culture shock! It was at the wedding party, where I saw a group of 4 bleached blond women, wearing sparkly dresses… The “blond club” made me cringe, and I looked with a painful expression on my face at them, when they came to dance in a circle on the dancefloor. I was just telling my Friend N (female, also dark-haired) about how horrible a sight it was to me, and that I thought that this type of stereotype woman didn’t really exist, but got exhagerated through humor. But oh no…it got worse…. They then put their handbag in the middle of their cirle –now clearly marked cause they were holding hands…!!!!!! I had to look away….This was not true, it couldn’t be! Oh my… oh my…. no, I couldn’t believe it. It is not a myth… they really do exist!!
I ran away, to my boss P. He is like a father, and always find him to be like a safe haven. And indeed now as well, when he saw me shaking like a leave whilst I was explaining I needed him to get over the shock, he did the right thing and got me a double vodka and orange juice. He kept me well topped up the rest of the night. Such a wise man!
So, planning on not crying the whole rest of the day. I keep the uplifting music going. I just had an online chat with the man of the couple I will be meeting this weekend and that was nice. Also tonight I got another online chat planned, with a dom from London who seems interesting. And then later tonight looking forward to a very horny conversation with T on the phone.
To finish this blog, I share a quote I came across last week and made me realise again how single life is to be cherished and treasured. Cause sadly all too right she was when Katherine Hepburn said:
"If you want to sacrifice the admiration of many men for the criticism of one, go ahead, get married."
Sunday, May 14, 2006
GREYING OUT
Long overdue, some talk about play and orgasms!
My last play was quite different from what I experienced up to now. It was all a bit strange, my first play without Frans being in charge of me. And of course that was very much on my mind, in the way that I was constantly trying to push it out of my mind.
But I took the step very quickly to go out and “have fun”. I literally forced myself to do this because I didn’t want to be beaten by the feeling of grief.
So when I met up with C in London, the evening started very nice and I got taken out to dinner. When he realised it was my first time in the capital, he drove me round and showed me some famous buildings before stopping the car to start me off in some sexual activities. Nothing outrageous, and nothing I never done in even vanilla life. Soon then to the hotel.
After quickly freshening up in the bathroom I entered the room and sat myself down in a chair next to him, but I got ordered to stand in front of him. And from then on it was clear he would order me what to do. All the time before, since September last year, all the contact I had with him, it was very friendly and funny, but I never found him to be very dominant. That was one of the reasons I hesitated so long to meet him. But luckily he stepped up. It was an enormous thrill to have to take his belt off and then hand it to him…
I fell in love with the belt after reading a story Frans wrote once, which featured it. Despite it being a punishment instrument, it is so erotic and attractive. And I have fantasised about it since a lot.
Back to the night… after taking the belt -positioned bent over a table- I was put in a corner and got hit a little more by something else, but I don’t know what it was, cause I was not allowed to look behind me. I then got fingered and it was clear to me that C wanted me to orgasm.
And I faked it, for the first time in a long while I faked it. And oh my, I missed Frans so much at that moment! I used to fake a lot of my orgasms, faked them much more than I had them actually. And I had told Frans about it before he became my master. Once he controlled me, he forbade me to do this again. So when I stood there, faking it again, I could have cried. Instead we moved on, to the bed. Lots and lots of all sorts of sex.
Very important here was the anal sex I had. It is not something I have written about yet, but I damaged myself following up punishment instructions from Frans during our last two weeks. And it took a long time to heal. One of my friends had adviced me to make anal sex a hard limit for a few months, to let myself get completely healed again. But I couldn’t wait that long and I am very (very very) happy to say it went well. C used me anally, but also used different other things to insert and fuck me with and I reached my first real orgasm of the night lying on my back, having to masturbate for him, whilst he fucked me anally with a very interesting feeling toy.
There was lots more sex to be had and given, and he made me work like a proper whore. I even got a second real orgasm (faked another three).
Then the time was there to put on my collar with leash. And that was the hardest part of the evening. I bought these exactly two weeks before getting dumped following his instructions. I bought them with his taste in mind, hoping to be wearing it for a long time still. It felt fabulous and put it on as soon as I got home from work every day. It was of course not proper collaring towards him, but it was meant to be a constant reminder of my place, and the leash would be used by him to lead me –literally- later on. When I got his awful email, it was also the very first thing, my very first reaction, to take the collar off.
I sat on the bed, and put the collar around my neck, trying to close it, and had to bite away the tears. It was the first time I put it on again, and it was hard. But I fought the bad feeling, and let C use it, which he did well.
More sex, sometimes blindfolded. But no more pain, or spanking (maybe now and then a hand quickly slapping me, but nothing real). Till about 4h30 in the morning.
The rest of the story, everybody knows (and laughed about!).
I got more play planned, albeit completely different. But I will tell more about it another day soon. I will meet the couple this Friday coming…
My days still begin with tears, and also still end with it. I hate myself for being so sad, and I do try to fight it, anyway I know and can.
I’ve started conversations –email and on the telephone- with a dom, who is looking for a slave girl. There are certainly areas in which we seem compatible. But I am scared. My real longing still goes out to Frans. And I don’t want to use this new contact (let’s call him T) in an attempt to get over Frans, to then discover I don’t have true feelings for him and ending up hurting him, who might be a “nice guy” for a change. Of course, it is possible I develop real and true feelings for him, beyond just being horny over his cage, and wouldn’t it be silly to throw away a possible good thing. Although I do expect I’ll be the one again left standing cold and hurt.
Somebody told me the NLP method of getting somebody out of mind. It is called greying out. Whenever his imagine comes into my head again, I should focus on it, seeing it clearly and slowly make it go black and white. From there onwards, I should make it all go grey, make it look completely vague and disappear within the background.
I will try this. But it will not be easy. As at the moment, I am trying so hard not to get his image into my mind. I don’t look at his pictures, although of course now I am writing about him again, the images are very sharp. And when I think of having to grey him out, what a shame!! The line around his mouth, his beautiful lips… *breaking down in tears again*
I need to get a grip. Somebody please come give me a cuddle and kick me up the ass.
My last play was quite different from what I experienced up to now. It was all a bit strange, my first play without Frans being in charge of me. And of course that was very much on my mind, in the way that I was constantly trying to push it out of my mind.
But I took the step very quickly to go out and “have fun”. I literally forced myself to do this because I didn’t want to be beaten by the feeling of grief.
So when I met up with C in London, the evening started very nice and I got taken out to dinner. When he realised it was my first time in the capital, he drove me round and showed me some famous buildings before stopping the car to start me off in some sexual activities. Nothing outrageous, and nothing I never done in even vanilla life. Soon then to the hotel.
After quickly freshening up in the bathroom I entered the room and sat myself down in a chair next to him, but I got ordered to stand in front of him. And from then on it was clear he would order me what to do. All the time before, since September last year, all the contact I had with him, it was very friendly and funny, but I never found him to be very dominant. That was one of the reasons I hesitated so long to meet him. But luckily he stepped up. It was an enormous thrill to have to take his belt off and then hand it to him…
I fell in love with the belt after reading a story Frans wrote once, which featured it. Despite it being a punishment instrument, it is so erotic and attractive. And I have fantasised about it since a lot.
Back to the night… after taking the belt -positioned bent over a table- I was put in a corner and got hit a little more by something else, but I don’t know what it was, cause I was not allowed to look behind me. I then got fingered and it was clear to me that C wanted me to orgasm.
And I faked it, for the first time in a long while I faked it. And oh my, I missed Frans so much at that moment! I used to fake a lot of my orgasms, faked them much more than I had them actually. And I had told Frans about it before he became my master. Once he controlled me, he forbade me to do this again. So when I stood there, faking it again, I could have cried. Instead we moved on, to the bed. Lots and lots of all sorts of sex.
Very important here was the anal sex I had. It is not something I have written about yet, but I damaged myself following up punishment instructions from Frans during our last two weeks. And it took a long time to heal. One of my friends had adviced me to make anal sex a hard limit for a few months, to let myself get completely healed again. But I couldn’t wait that long and I am very (very very) happy to say it went well. C used me anally, but also used different other things to insert and fuck me with and I reached my first real orgasm of the night lying on my back, having to masturbate for him, whilst he fucked me anally with a very interesting feeling toy.
There was lots more sex to be had and given, and he made me work like a proper whore. I even got a second real orgasm (faked another three).
Then the time was there to put on my collar with leash. And that was the hardest part of the evening. I bought these exactly two weeks before getting dumped following his instructions. I bought them with his taste in mind, hoping to be wearing it for a long time still. It felt fabulous and put it on as soon as I got home from work every day. It was of course not proper collaring towards him, but it was meant to be a constant reminder of my place, and the leash would be used by him to lead me –literally- later on. When I got his awful email, it was also the very first thing, my very first reaction, to take the collar off.
I sat on the bed, and put the collar around my neck, trying to close it, and had to bite away the tears. It was the first time I put it on again, and it was hard. But I fought the bad feeling, and let C use it, which he did well.
More sex, sometimes blindfolded. But no more pain, or spanking (maybe now and then a hand quickly slapping me, but nothing real). Till about 4h30 in the morning.
The rest of the story, everybody knows (and laughed about!).
I got more play planned, albeit completely different. But I will tell more about it another day soon. I will meet the couple this Friday coming…
My days still begin with tears, and also still end with it. I hate myself for being so sad, and I do try to fight it, anyway I know and can.
I’ve started conversations –email and on the telephone- with a dom, who is looking for a slave girl. There are certainly areas in which we seem compatible. But I am scared. My real longing still goes out to Frans. And I don’t want to use this new contact (let’s call him T) in an attempt to get over Frans, to then discover I don’t have true feelings for him and ending up hurting him, who might be a “nice guy” for a change. Of course, it is possible I develop real and true feelings for him, beyond just being horny over his cage, and wouldn’t it be silly to throw away a possible good thing. Although I do expect I’ll be the one again left standing cold and hurt.
Somebody told me the NLP method of getting somebody out of mind. It is called greying out. Whenever his imagine comes into my head again, I should focus on it, seeing it clearly and slowly make it go black and white. From there onwards, I should make it all go grey, make it look completely vague and disappear within the background.
I will try this. But it will not be easy. As at the moment, I am trying so hard not to get his image into my mind. I don’t look at his pictures, although of course now I am writing about him again, the images are very sharp. And when I think of having to grey him out, what a shame!! The line around his mouth, his beautiful lips… *breaking down in tears again*
I need to get a grip. Somebody please come give me a cuddle and kick me up the ass.
Tuesday, May 09, 2006
HOPE MAKES HARD
Finding it very difficult today. Woke up thinking about Frans, and can't shift the thoughts. Despite some wonderful emails I shared with -what seems to be- a promising new contact.
But maybe that is what makes it difficult... Hard to explain, but the better things he wrote, the more I thought of Frans, and all the wonderful things I read from him.
Oh damned, this is really hard. Can somebody please tell me how to get him out of my head? Every time I think I feel better, it just comes down on me again. I would already be grateful for one day without having to think of him. Or to be able to think of him differently and not long for him. This is so stupid!
But maybe that is what makes it difficult... Hard to explain, but the better things he wrote, the more I thought of Frans, and all the wonderful things I read from him.
Oh damned, this is really hard. Can somebody please tell me how to get him out of my head? Every time I think I feel better, it just comes down on me again. I would already be grateful for one day without having to think of him. Or to be able to think of him differently and not long for him. This is so stupid!
Monday, May 08, 2006
LOST
The day after I got email from Frans, I replied to him. I know that in his email he stated he didn’t want any more contact, but I did not comply to this wish. After all, I was no longer his slave…. And so I wrote….(again translated as good as possible)
Good morning Frans,
So, You let yourself get caught then?
Your email to me yesterday was particularly rotten, but i do understand it was written for her more than for me.
i do believe though, that You also think i deserve a slightly better ending, or at least that we should be able to say goodbye to each other in a decent way. Surely i won’t be the only one of us that will miss the other one?
i can only try to imagine what You had to go through yesterday, and therefore i write from an email address that You don’t have, and i write to Your work hoping it won’t be read. It is of course not my meaning to get You into even more trouble.
i will leave my details in this email, and hope You will keep them for a while. Of course i am totally broken up and stuff over this, but i do hope that You know me by now well enough that You understand i can put this loss in perspective. And if You want to, then you can always still contact me as a friend. You’re very welcome even. i will switch my button from whorish and horny to friendly and warm.
That You will need some time to build up trust again with Your girlfriend is of course also something i can understand. i hope You’ll succeed.
Hoping for a day that we can talk to each other again, to give a nice ending to what otherwise was a very beautiful internet relationship...
Lots of love,
All I was hoping for, was a little comment, an apology for the rude break up, confirmation of what I thought, … something! But nope, till this day absolutely nothing.
I want to make clear to you readers, that I am not broken up over the fact that he has a girlfriend. These things happen. But I am devastated over the way he dumped me. “Callous” is how one of my friends called it. I had to look it up in the dictionary, and came up with: heartless, unfeeling, coldhearted, uncaring, insensitive, cold, cruel, hard… And yes, that is exactly it! This makes me very sad.
And the one thing, the very one thing I hate, absolutely totally hate, and he knew, is the lies!! Why did he lie?? I don’t know of course how long he has this girlfriend, although I am pretty sure I can make a good guess. I actually literally wrote to him at the time (cause I felt there was something wrong-it was around christmas) that I did not want him to string me along and if he no longer wanted me to be his slave all he had to do was tell me. Or at least he should have given me an honest choice!! Tell me his dilemma, having a girlfriend in the Netherlands of who is was perhaps not sure or something. But no lies!!! For that I am very angry.
The last fortnight I served him was horrendously hard, and had me physically broken, not to mention how I felt emotionally. This of course makes the sudden break up more difficult to accept.
He seemed like such a warm, caring, understanding and loving man. How can he not respond to me? I thought my email was nice enough.
I am thinking of sending him a second email. One that isn’t so nice. One in which I tell him how irresponsible he has acted with me the last two weeks and his awful email. But then sometimes I think he is not worth my time.
I still miss him though…
But I am so grateful for all my friends, for without whom I would be a total mess. Instead I am being looked after, comforted, cheered up and held up strong.
One of my friends told me not to beat myself up over something he did. That stuck, and was a very helpful comment. Cause indeed that is what I seem to do (a lot in general). I felt so stupid, for letting myself in so deep, refusing to see the lies. But then, it wasn’t me lying, in fact I trusted him despite a nagging feeling I had. I gave him the benefit of the doubt, and believed in him. That is a good thing! And it makes me the better person of the two of us. I refuse to give up my believe in the good of people, and fill my heart with mistrust and suspicion. Because one day, a deserving person might come along…
I am also a great believer in “what goes around, comes around”.
But, I am rambling again now. Perhaps not making total sense.
I’ll close this blog with something I read somewhere, which is appropriate, to everybody.
Nobody deserves your tears. And the ones that would, don’t make you cry.
Good morning Frans,
So, You let yourself get caught then?
Your email to me yesterday was particularly rotten, but i do understand it was written for her more than for me.
i do believe though, that You also think i deserve a slightly better ending, or at least that we should be able to say goodbye to each other in a decent way. Surely i won’t be the only one of us that will miss the other one?
i can only try to imagine what You had to go through yesterday, and therefore i write from an email address that You don’t have, and i write to Your work hoping it won’t be read. It is of course not my meaning to get You into even more trouble.
i will leave my details in this email, and hope You will keep them for a while. Of course i am totally broken up and stuff over this, but i do hope that You know me by now well enough that You understand i can put this loss in perspective. And if You want to, then you can always still contact me as a friend. You’re very welcome even. i will switch my button from whorish and horny to friendly and warm.
That You will need some time to build up trust again with Your girlfriend is of course also something i can understand. i hope You’ll succeed.
Hoping for a day that we can talk to each other again, to give a nice ending to what otherwise was a very beautiful internet relationship...
Lots of love,
All I was hoping for, was a little comment, an apology for the rude break up, confirmation of what I thought, … something! But nope, till this day absolutely nothing.
I want to make clear to you readers, that I am not broken up over the fact that he has a girlfriend. These things happen. But I am devastated over the way he dumped me. “Callous” is how one of my friends called it. I had to look it up in the dictionary, and came up with: heartless, unfeeling, coldhearted, uncaring, insensitive, cold, cruel, hard… And yes, that is exactly it! This makes me very sad.
And the one thing, the very one thing I hate, absolutely totally hate, and he knew, is the lies!! Why did he lie?? I don’t know of course how long he has this girlfriend, although I am pretty sure I can make a good guess. I actually literally wrote to him at the time (cause I felt there was something wrong-it was around christmas) that I did not want him to string me along and if he no longer wanted me to be his slave all he had to do was tell me. Or at least he should have given me an honest choice!! Tell me his dilemma, having a girlfriend in the Netherlands of who is was perhaps not sure or something. But no lies!!! For that I am very angry.
The last fortnight I served him was horrendously hard, and had me physically broken, not to mention how I felt emotionally. This of course makes the sudden break up more difficult to accept.
He seemed like such a warm, caring, understanding and loving man. How can he not respond to me? I thought my email was nice enough.
I am thinking of sending him a second email. One that isn’t so nice. One in which I tell him how irresponsible he has acted with me the last two weeks and his awful email. But then sometimes I think he is not worth my time.
I still miss him though…
But I am so grateful for all my friends, for without whom I would be a total mess. Instead I am being looked after, comforted, cheered up and held up strong.
One of my friends told me not to beat myself up over something he did. That stuck, and was a very helpful comment. Cause indeed that is what I seem to do (a lot in general). I felt so stupid, for letting myself in so deep, refusing to see the lies. But then, it wasn’t me lying, in fact I trusted him despite a nagging feeling I had. I gave him the benefit of the doubt, and believed in him. That is a good thing! And it makes me the better person of the two of us. I refuse to give up my believe in the good of people, and fill my heart with mistrust and suspicion. Because one day, a deserving person might come along…
I am also a great believer in “what goes around, comes around”.
But, I am rambling again now. Perhaps not making total sense.
I’ll close this blog with something I read somewhere, which is appropriate, to everybody.
Nobody deserves your tears. And the ones that would, don’t make you cry.
SPECIAL ADDITION
I was planning on writing a blog this weekend about my last few weeks under my previous Master, the sudden break up and my feelings towards him. But something happened this weekend, and so this has become a “special addition”.
Yesterday I went out to play. My first play without directions from my previous Master in a long time. I knew it was not going to be what I would call a hard or difficult session, and therefore picked him. This dom, let’s call him C, has chased me since September last year, and put quite a bit of effort into it as well. I was never that keen on him, for several reasons, and managed to hold off any meetings. But now I couldn’t really think of any excuse not to go see him, plus that I convinced myself that he might be the perfect one to start playing again without feeling too lost now I haven’t got Frans any more. By now I was quite familiar with C, even though our contact has been only by phone, and he seemed nice enough.
So, off I went, to the big city (my first time in London), routeplanner on the passenger seat and my new dog collar and lead in my handbag. I arrived around 11pm, and parked where C told me too (good sub! –well that is after arguing over the first place he pointed out to me, where I didn’t want to park cause there was a yellow line). I ended up being parked only around the corner from the hotel, so I left my comfy shoes in the car, knowing I wouldn’t have far to go the next morning in my beautiful stillettos.
What happened on the night, the playsession and some of the feelings, I will write another time.
This morning, after some nice hotel breakfast (I just LOVE 4-star hotel breakfasts) I went to my car, well in time (I wanted to be in Bristol for 1pm to attend a munch). Shock/horror… my car gone! Whilst walking around the square, trying to call C in a panic (who didn’t answer the phone), still hoping I would see my car somewhere, loads of things went through my mind, and I started to loose “it” a little. My feet were killing me, I had three hours sleep after an unusual night, and I panicked. Really panicked.I took my shoes off and wondered around the square bare feet still trying to find my car, half crying, still trying to get in touch with C when I saw a parking attendant. I asked him if he thought my car could have been towed away, so he gave me a phone number to call. And yep! They got it. Some relief, at least it wasn’t stolen. But that didn’t stop the tears starting to flood. Because suddenly I was faced with the problem of finding the compound, having no money to release the car, etc….
I asked directions, but the parking attendant wasn’t sure. He told me to put my shoes on but I couldn’t. I was going to have to walk for a while, trying to find this place without a clue. And so that left me, shoes in hands, bare feet, sobbing my heart out, wandering the streets of London in despair. Until I couldn’t see the point any more and used my petrol money to pay for a taxi. The very nice driver took pitty on me when he dropped me off at the compound and gave me some discount on the fare.
It was very daunting. The office was deep below, with special fences and locked doors and protected glass and stuff. The men dealing with the payments and collections all looked very stern. I explained to them that they have my car, but that I didn’t have any money. I asked them if they could forward the fine to my home or something, and that I would pay on the 25th when my wages come in. But that is not how it works. The car does not get released until it is paid. Worse, they can only hold it for 7 days (at an additional cost of £25 per day). The cost to get it out today was £200 (rip-off???).
By then, I was completely and totally lost, panicked, and was devestated. I can not describe my desperation and cried my eyes out. I was allowed to get my other shoes from the car (aren’t they just the sweetest!). And I was told to go phone a friend.
Back upstairs (because down under the ground in that horrible cement cellar my mobile didn’t get a signal) I called R.
And now we come to my point of this blog. We come to the special bit of this “special addition”.
In this blog, and with this blog I would like to praise R. It is nearly a year now that I know him, and despite all my other weird and wonderful friends, he does stand out and is very special.
I can come with the strangest requests to him, and he won’t bat an eyelid. He always manges to calm me down, no matter how great my distress. I can talk about anything, without having to be ashamed. We can talk for hours, about anything and everything. I just love the way he sits himself back, ready to listen again to one of my crazy and confused tellings, to then comment on it which makes it all clear and understandable for me again. My little girl loves him (she told me she wants one like him when she grows up when she saw a pic of him in his biker leathers!) and he spoils us with little pressies very often. Whenever we have an evening planned, it is always the highlight of my week and always look forward to his company.
Now and then he does upset me with things he says, but he can get away with murder. Don’t know exactly what it is, but he’s got something boyish about him, despite his bitterness, which makes me believe that he really does not do anything to deliberately hurt me. Actually, he has very often proven his sensitivity towards me, and seems very careful. And so I do believe in the innocence of some of his comments that hit me.
He is a very dear friend, and I get tremendous support from him, also with some of my submissive needs. And I am so grateful to know him, and to be allowd to call him my friend.
And so, when I was told to go call a friend, he was the one that came immediately to mind. It was so good to hear his calm voice, and without any doubt he bailed me out. I’ll never be able to thank him enough for this.
I got a little messed with more, when I went back with the payment details. Got told that they couldn’t accept this payment without the person present (I nearly completely freaked!!), but then got a phone number I could call and my payment would get registered soon after that call.
So back upstairs, and of course that phonecall didn’t go smooth either. They couldn’t find the reference number of my ticket, but then eventually found it by my numberplate. Apparantly I got two tickets. But I could not understand what the second ticket was for, and how much that is going to cost me.
Whilst I was making that phonecall, a message on my voice mail came in. My ex-husband had some snotty comments again. I called him back, half histerical crying, telling him off for always being nasty to me no matter what I do for him etc. He was very surprised to hear me like that (he is used that I let him walk all over me) and apologised.
I got home somewhere between 3 and 4 that afternoon. I spoke to R in the car, whilst I was trying to fight my way out of London onto the M4. He managed to make me laugh and joke and was extremely kind again.
C called me back later that day, and promised to give me the money back, because he felt responsible for what happened. So hopefully he will come through and all ends well. Apart from that I am slightly traumatised haha.
I have to go to bed now. But I’ll keep my blog updated again from now on.
Yesterday I went out to play. My first play without directions from my previous Master in a long time. I knew it was not going to be what I would call a hard or difficult session, and therefore picked him. This dom, let’s call him C, has chased me since September last year, and put quite a bit of effort into it as well. I was never that keen on him, for several reasons, and managed to hold off any meetings. But now I couldn’t really think of any excuse not to go see him, plus that I convinced myself that he might be the perfect one to start playing again without feeling too lost now I haven’t got Frans any more. By now I was quite familiar with C, even though our contact has been only by phone, and he seemed nice enough.
So, off I went, to the big city (my first time in London), routeplanner on the passenger seat and my new dog collar and lead in my handbag. I arrived around 11pm, and parked where C told me too (good sub! –well that is after arguing over the first place he pointed out to me, where I didn’t want to park cause there was a yellow line). I ended up being parked only around the corner from the hotel, so I left my comfy shoes in the car, knowing I wouldn’t have far to go the next morning in my beautiful stillettos.
What happened on the night, the playsession and some of the feelings, I will write another time.
This morning, after some nice hotel breakfast (I just LOVE 4-star hotel breakfasts) I went to my car, well in time (I wanted to be in Bristol for 1pm to attend a munch). Shock/horror… my car gone! Whilst walking around the square, trying to call C in a panic (who didn’t answer the phone), still hoping I would see my car somewhere, loads of things went through my mind, and I started to loose “it” a little. My feet were killing me, I had three hours sleep after an unusual night, and I panicked. Really panicked.I took my shoes off and wondered around the square bare feet still trying to find my car, half crying, still trying to get in touch with C when I saw a parking attendant. I asked him if he thought my car could have been towed away, so he gave me a phone number to call. And yep! They got it. Some relief, at least it wasn’t stolen. But that didn’t stop the tears starting to flood. Because suddenly I was faced with the problem of finding the compound, having no money to release the car, etc….
I asked directions, but the parking attendant wasn’t sure. He told me to put my shoes on but I couldn’t. I was going to have to walk for a while, trying to find this place without a clue. And so that left me, shoes in hands, bare feet, sobbing my heart out, wandering the streets of London in despair. Until I couldn’t see the point any more and used my petrol money to pay for a taxi. The very nice driver took pitty on me when he dropped me off at the compound and gave me some discount on the fare.
It was very daunting. The office was deep below, with special fences and locked doors and protected glass and stuff. The men dealing with the payments and collections all looked very stern. I explained to them that they have my car, but that I didn’t have any money. I asked them if they could forward the fine to my home or something, and that I would pay on the 25th when my wages come in. But that is not how it works. The car does not get released until it is paid. Worse, they can only hold it for 7 days (at an additional cost of £25 per day). The cost to get it out today was £200 (rip-off???).
By then, I was completely and totally lost, panicked, and was devestated. I can not describe my desperation and cried my eyes out. I was allowed to get my other shoes from the car (aren’t they just the sweetest!). And I was told to go phone a friend.
Back upstairs (because down under the ground in that horrible cement cellar my mobile didn’t get a signal) I called R.
And now we come to my point of this blog. We come to the special bit of this “special addition”.
In this blog, and with this blog I would like to praise R. It is nearly a year now that I know him, and despite all my other weird and wonderful friends, he does stand out and is very special.
I can come with the strangest requests to him, and he won’t bat an eyelid. He always manges to calm me down, no matter how great my distress. I can talk about anything, without having to be ashamed. We can talk for hours, about anything and everything. I just love the way he sits himself back, ready to listen again to one of my crazy and confused tellings, to then comment on it which makes it all clear and understandable for me again. My little girl loves him (she told me she wants one like him when she grows up when she saw a pic of him in his biker leathers!) and he spoils us with little pressies very often. Whenever we have an evening planned, it is always the highlight of my week and always look forward to his company.
Now and then he does upset me with things he says, but he can get away with murder. Don’t know exactly what it is, but he’s got something boyish about him, despite his bitterness, which makes me believe that he really does not do anything to deliberately hurt me. Actually, he has very often proven his sensitivity towards me, and seems very careful. And so I do believe in the innocence of some of his comments that hit me.
He is a very dear friend, and I get tremendous support from him, also with some of my submissive needs. And I am so grateful to know him, and to be allowd to call him my friend.
And so, when I was told to go call a friend, he was the one that came immediately to mind. It was so good to hear his calm voice, and without any doubt he bailed me out. I’ll never be able to thank him enough for this.
I got a little messed with more, when I went back with the payment details. Got told that they couldn’t accept this payment without the person present (I nearly completely freaked!!), but then got a phone number I could call and my payment would get registered soon after that call.
So back upstairs, and of course that phonecall didn’t go smooth either. They couldn’t find the reference number of my ticket, but then eventually found it by my numberplate. Apparantly I got two tickets. But I could not understand what the second ticket was for, and how much that is going to cost me.
Whilst I was making that phonecall, a message on my voice mail came in. My ex-husband had some snotty comments again. I called him back, half histerical crying, telling him off for always being nasty to me no matter what I do for him etc. He was very surprised to hear me like that (he is used that I let him walk all over me) and apologised.
I got home somewhere between 3 and 4 that afternoon. I spoke to R in the car, whilst I was trying to fight my way out of London onto the M4. He managed to make me laugh and joke and was extremely kind again.
C called me back later that day, and promised to give me the money back, because he felt responsible for what happened. So hopefully he will come through and all ends well. Apart from that I am slightly traumatised haha.
I have to go to bed now. But I’ll keep my blog updated again from now on.
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