topthemonkey: (Default)
I like to have a good, powerful orgasm before making any major decision. Let me explain why.

Long before the monkey and I got together, I had a problem, one that plagued me.
I was a kinky person. Except when I orgasmed.
I enjoyed feelings of both being dominant and submissive. Except post orgasm.
And the ironic thing is, the more powerful the orgasm, the more powerful the post-orgasm-kink-aversion.

I've previously called this "the vanilla flip." What would be hot and intense one moment, as soon as I orgasm, would immediately feel wrong or even disgusting. Pain tolerance would drop, things that were appealing even a few seconds ago would halt, and I'd have a desire to be cleaned up, warm, and normal; wanting to do nothing more than eat and relax, not feeling sadistic but instead feeling gentle and nurturing. And, of course, wanting to go to sleep.

In my submissive senses, I would often tell dominant types that the best way to humiliate me would be to put me in a compromising position (restrained, uncomfortable, about to be marked), then to get me off while doing it, but force me to go through with whatever it was. For this reason, making me "clean up after myself" (that is, swallow what I had just secreted) was an exceptionally strong fantasy of mine, a measure by which I held dominants; after all, they had to have enough of a mental draw to me that even in my most vanilla mindset, I could still do what I was told.

The couple of times in the past I've gotten body modifications for dominant types (for those who care, my nipples have been pierced twice), both times I was ordered not to get myself off until it was done. If allowed to do so beforehand, the idea of enduring that pain for another person wouldn't have appealed to me.

Part of my interest in chastity play, at least when I represented the submissive side of relationships, was because it allowed a partner to keep me in a single frame of mind, and as long as I stayed in that frame of mind it appealed to me, like a magnetic switch that kept itself turned on.

Since becoming involved with the monkey, our life has more or less become a fairly regular dynamic, with me fairly regularly on top. (Uh, like, always? Like that defines our relationship?) I don't go through these changes (what changes are you referring to?) most of the time. I usually don't let her do anything that causes me to feel too submissive, and I've managed to transform my major erogenous zones to be triggering of the mindset of general kink instead of being spots that would lead me to feeling submissive if stimulated.

However, there are still odd elements to our relationship. I wake up feeling both kinky, and aroused. The monkey....does not. When the monkey wakes up, she's usually in a pretty "just want to eat and pee" headspace. Whereas I just want to roll her over and use her. Which, y'know, is your right.

But often, before making a major decision involving the relationship, before bringing in another person or making some change to status or to some major purpose, I like to compare my thoughts on a matter both at my most kinky, and at my least, both when I'm tired, and when I'm awake.
Sometimes if I'm angry, I like to push myself through the various phases and see if I'm still angry throughout all of them.

When I woke up this morning, I poked the monkey to take her meds, and she revealed to me that she had taken them in the early morning; she had stayed up all night. This has been a regular problem recently, and while I haven't been ORDERING her to come to bed, I've been making it clear, I think, that I'm not happy with this behavior (especially considering she wasn't ever happy going to bed without me). Yes, it's been clear, but I've been struggling with some things that have been directly affecting my sleep schedule. I haven't talked to the Top about it because I don't feel I have it adequately sorted out in my head to adequately communicate it. There might be an entry coming from me about this.
I thought for a few minutes, and visualized that I'd wake her up, and sit her down, and give her a piece of paper.


I, the monkey, understand that I have upset my Master by:
  • Staying up all night, repeatedly, to the point where I'm at risk of messing up our schedules.
  • Orgasming without permission while doing the above.
  • Not properly sorting my meds.
  • Not putting out clothes when they need to be.
I understand that as a result of this, my hair is to be cut in a way that pleases my master, and suits my position, and is to be cut down to this length every Sunday, until I gain the privilege back by:
  • Doing at least a half hour of exercise every week day (walking, playing DDR, crunches).
  • Additionally, playing DDR at least once a week in the above. -moan of despair-
  • Working on the studies my Master wants me to learn, at least a half hour a day.
  • Staying on top of Towels, Garbage, Dishes, and Laundry.
  • Getting my library fines sorted out. I can't do this until I get paid.
  • Getting my timesheets at work sorted out. I can't do this until I hear back from the HR person at work.
  • Filling in my daily reports, every day.
  • Sitting and taking my haircuts like a good girl for the next four weeks (today plus three more) I guess this one isn't happening.
Signed:
Date:


And once she signed it, she'd get cuffed, stripped, and buzzed down. I have a pretty good idea of how much I would have done. She'd still have her ponytail, but more along the back and possibly sides would be buzzed to nothing. The style I'm thinking of is called an undercut now that I do a little Google searching. (The pic of the second girl is...in a perfect world, kinda the exact hairstyle the monkey would have, all the time: enough to grab easily, but nothing for gags, blindfolds, or masks to get snagged in). This holds NO appeal for me.

As the thought of such a scene got me rather horny, I proceeded, still half awake, to get myself off and the decision that came as the endorphins soaked my brain was that this was indeed too harsh. (For some reason, a thought that sneaked in there was that a more appropriate response would be to give her a hot, soapy enema instead, but I'm not sure where that came from or if I decided somewhere in there that doing so was also too rough).

At the moment, however, I'm not thinking either treatment is. If I go home and find her asleep, well...time will tell.
He gave me the enema, no hair cut.
topthemonkey: (really)

This isn't a disclaimer per se, I just want to explain a few things. I think this entry portrays me as a pretty crappy slave, and I generally don't think of myself that way. The Top puts more emphasis on my mental illness issues than I would like, both in this entry and in general. I know those who know me well will not do so, but a caveat: please do not take this entry as representative of me as a person and/or slave.  My own disclaimer.: You're not a crappy slave at all.  You're wonderful, and the whole point of this Journal is that people know it.

The monkey was having a hard time with her PMDD a few nights ago, and it came down to her attacking both herself, and me. It was spurred by her telling me not to do something (I think but am not sure I was hitting her butt with a crop, gently), and me laughing about it, because it seemed like a silly request: one I would honor, but the fact that I was smiling, laughing, light hearted, set her off. Actually it was set off by this: The Top took my glasses and was laughing at my squinting. I protested and he told me it was adorable. I was very frustrated.  As I remarked to you on IM just now, it kinda...remined me of Velma from Scooby Doo for reasons I can't quite explain.  I love the little pouty face you make when I take them.  It's the same pouty face you make when I take your nose.  If it's a serious thing, then we'll work it out.

She got really angry, and started biting and pinching me, trying to wrestle it out of my hands. I kept pushing her off, but she kept coming at me, despite my saying no.

After, she wound up on the floor, crying, for several minutes, not liking who she was at all. And I held in things I wanted to say, because I didn't think they'd help. Yelling and screaming wasn't the answer, but neither was laughing (you considered laughing at my crying?). I wanted to tell her "stop crying, you're being ridiculous, get off the floor", but that would have brought tears, so I stood, and watched, and let her cry out. That was kind of depressing, being curled up in a ball on the floor and having you just stand there silently, making no gesture towards me, not offering tissues.  Given what had just transpired, I wasn't sure HOW to react, honestly.  I offered you a paper towel, tho.

It all happened so quickly I can't honestly remember events now, but maybe she'll fill them in.

The next day, when I brought her out of bed, I put her leash on, and as she was using the bathroom I got a set of cuffs, and told her she was going to get her hair cut for attacking me. She immediately said "red". After a moment of trying to convince her otherwise (you said that I was calling red because I did not trust you, which did not jive with my understanding of safewords or trust), to which she replied "you're not honoring red?" I went with it and took the leash off, I didn't have the typical "correct" reaction of saying "there, there, it's allright". I just felt bitter and angry. I don't think there's any "correct" response though perhaps some are more productive than others. Very rarely do you say "there, there, it's all right" when I call "red.No, the response I'm describing is the typical response most people use in red, that we use in Yellow.

In the BDSM context, "red" is supposed to stop an intense scene (I would contend that it is intended to pause whatever activity is going on. "Intense" and "scene" are so subjective I disagree, though.  Think of the attitude it's given at our local playspace.): safewords are mainly used in places where other forms of communication break down, for example, during a flogging screaming "stop," "no," "ow," or crying or struggling. We use it more thoroughly, but she's used it in the past against taking a bath (I don't remember that one), or getting up after not having had enough sleep, or doing things she felt were embarrassing, as opposed to painful. There was context to all of those, and just saying it like that makes me seem like a brat. Also, "red" is not limited to when things are painful; more often than not, when I have called it the reasons have been emotional. Red is also useful when approaching a "hard limit." For us this generally means permanent damage. Her hair is not quite a "hard limit," as such. Though if I had my druthers it would be. This may be something we can talk about.  I don't want to concede it, though.  Your body is mine, love.  We've cut it short before, and I've told her of events that will lose it for her, without question.

Throughout the day, I continued to feel pent-up anger and aggression, and in the evening, I simply stated the sum total of what had been going on inside me. She asked a question about something else (I have no idea what, or if it was at all related), and I realized that the level of honesty was to the point where I needed to say them, and that it wouldn't be damaging to say so, and I said it:

"A real slave would have sat down and taken her punishment like a good girl."

Her response was "are you trying to get a rise out of me?". I explained that I wasn't, that I had just been thinking of how "real" the BDSM element in our relationship felt, discussing it with a friend. Recalling how insulted I had been when another friend had said something to the effect of: "as much as you guys like to claim you're 24/7, you're really not because you don't have complete control over her." I asked other deep questions like "do you like being mine?" and "do you like wearing that collar?" Make no mistake, this has come up in discussion before, what if she no longer wanted that aspect of our relationship (in hypothetical terms, not because I've contemplated leaving I was going to put that, but thought this entry was already getting tangential enough) -- but in this case, there was no doubt that she wanted it.

He also said he wished that I would of my own accord prepare to be shaved down.
I told him that his anger would fade faster than my hair would grow back.  I wasn't doubting that.  Neither should you.  What you should worry about is if my anger fades before I'm done buzzing down your whole scalp. Some time passed, maybe 5-10 minutes, and I was thinking about whether or not I was going to do what he wanted. On her own, and without being ordered, she went over to the bathroom area and took out the hair clippers (we actually use pet-grade clippers, they can tear through the thickest hair better than most home-grade stuff), and got out the handcuffs and the leash. I cuffed her and told her to sit down.

Before I turned on the clippers, she looked at me somewhat defiantly and said "I'm doing this for health insurance". Actually I said that I was earning my health insurance, to which you agreed.  Indeed, my memory was a little fuzzy. I also said that I wasn't sure if the fact that he was willing to risk whatever anger and resentment came was a positive or negative thing.  How much resentment are you feeling? She cried a bit while I did it, but in the end I only buzzed off a few inches at the base of her neck, and then brushed the rest of her hair back and put it in a ponytail.And you were intensely aroused.  I was aroused after.  I don't recall being aroused during.

I have no doubt that if I would have taken more, that she would have grown more upset, and who knows, that day may come at some point. Like some of the most severe punishments our relationship has seen, I didn't want to do a set amount, I wanted to do it until I wasn't angry anymore. The "beat her until I'm not angry anymore" can work out better or worse (on my side) than the set number method. The fact that she took the punishment on willingly...did a lot to alleviate that anger. But I needed also to make it clear this wasn't just a "mindfuck," wasn't just a case of my making her sit down to see if she'd sit.

But this time, I don't think I ever wanted to shave her down to nothing: I like seeing her long hair as a length of how long she's been with me. We've trimmed for some split ends, so really, it's more like "I've been with you at least this long." What I wanted was to see her put on the cuffs (it's a bit tricky to handcuff your own hands behind your back), sit down, and take it like a good girl. I wanted to have her there, helpless, and say "I'm sorry," and know that absolution was there. I wanted her to trust her master instead of calling red as soon as the order was given. And in reading this after I write it, she may once again feel bad about it.

As her master, I need to show her that I've given it chance after chance, but that I need to push, ever gently, on the rules here, and hold her to them. That's the problem, though. If it happens and you don't punish me, over and over again, of course I'm not going to take threats of punishment seriously. We discussed this.  Which is why I was annoyed at your calling red.  It does not work well for me. She's expressed this. I told her while she was showering that after it had grown in, if she did it again, I'd shave off the same spot, and if she more bad things before then, I'd just take more. I would much rather let her slide on dishes being left in the sink on a night she went to bed sick, than let this go by. Yes, she was in extreme emotional circumstances, but that explains it, not excuses it.

Make no mistake, if I find her doing something like using drugs, or deliberately not taking her meds, or something like that, I won't hesitate to take everything, but having it groomable is a work-related thing, to at least some degree, and it does affect her self esteem. It's not self-esteem exactly. It's really complicated. If I wanted to damage that, I could of course be evil and strike fear into her with the words "reverse mohawk" or "mullet."

In short, I believe there would have been far less angst if she'd have tried hard to believe that I understand her attachment to her hair, and understand the relationship between it and her self-esteem. See above. One of the things she needs to understand is that I'd rather -- much rather -- have us both know that all's forgiven, but she's going to look a little less like she wants to, than have us see each other in ways we don't want the other to see. I would rather look at her and see a girl who made a mistake that will take a few months to fully fade, but whom I forgive fully now. The physical matches the emotional, and it makes sense to me.

Note carefully that I've told her if she wants to dye her hair, that she may (after discussing it with me) but after she does, once her roots start coming in, she's getting buzzed down to nada. Because she's as attached to her hair as she is, she hasn't tried using it to "buy" anything with it, although if she did, it might work. I never even thought of that. That's not really how my mind works.

From a slightly more kinked perspective, I like the concept of this kind of haircut. It's something I associate with learning, and privilege. It's an extreme change of appearance that leaves no permanent damage. New slaves are "fuzzy," and longer hair comes with age, experience, and time. You earn your long hair by not making the mistakes that cause you to lose it, or in a more extreme sense, because you're required to cut it regularly. I also like it because it counters some of the norms of traditional beauty, at least to some degree: reference Natalie Portman's character in V for Vendetta, or in a more extreme example, Britney Spears. (To be fair, Natalie looked hot, Britney didn't, but the pics of Britney were pretty badly candid.) And I'd be lying if I said I didn't love the feel of it under my fingers.

I wonder sometimes, what will happen if it gets worse with age. I love her dearly, and know that she loves me. I know that sometimes when TheCrazy sets in, it's easy to lose sight of that. She's already on a cocktail of medications, and I'm loathe to add in Yet Another to the mix, when many forms of birth control could cancel out existing medications.

I need to get a pic of the back of her head put up before it grows out too much.

topthemonkey: (Default)
I have been trying to explain to the Top for months that I need to be seeing a therapist in-person at least once a week. I've tried to explain that this is crucial for my mental health, that I'm depressed and lonely. I've researched therapists that are nearby, ones that are in his health plan. He's said that we can't really afford it right now. I've accepted that.

The Top has been trying to punish me into taking care of myself. You cannot punish depression out of someone. I mean, it's an additional motivation to take care of myself, yeah. But mental illness is strong and deep-seated.

Tonight he decided I need to see a therapist because I'm not getting better. He's been working a lot since we moved here, but he's just noticing this now? It wasn't clear from all the times I explicitly said "I'm not getting better, I need help"? He feels badly for not being able to "fix" me himself. I am not a thing to be fixed. He says he can't take this anymore, can't take a slave who doesn't care properly for herself (and therefore her Master's property).

On the one hand, finally I can get some fucking help with this shit. On the other hand, why didn't we have this conversation months ago? I feel hurt that addressing my mental health issues on a deeper level is only a priority when he decides it affects him sufficiently.
topthemonkey: (Default)
The Top was not pleased by my last entry. He was hurt, I think, that I was feeling like he was less interested in me. He pointed out that I have not been serving him well lately, and that my personal care daily chores (waking up early-ish, taking my meds, showering, changing clothes) are just as much D/s as flogging and fucking. I know this. And when my personal care starts to decline, that's a big warning sign that I'm depressed. When I'm depressed, the Top feels as if he should be able to do something to bring me out of it, and it frustrates him that it doesn't really work that way.

Today at lunch the Top suggested shaving my head and starting over to help me remember my place. Sort of a reboot. I immediately started to cry. He said he didn't know what punishment he could devise, as none of them seemed to sink in. I disagree. I mean, punishment helps, but . . . I don't know any foolproof method for getting me to consistently take care of myself. I know I am my Master's property and as such I have to care for myself. I know I have to do what he says. It feels so simple but then in reality it all breaks down.

This isn't like asking permission to get into bed where I forget, get punished, repeat a few times, then remember and don't do it again. This comes from a different place. It's not just about old habits or patterns of behavior. It's also about dragging myself through daily routine despite depression (hot alliteration there).

The Top is realizing that, to a certain degree at least, I need to be micromanaged (at this point in my life and our relationship). I need someone to say, you need to do xyz and stay on top of me until I get it done, don't let me do other things.

I wonder if play would work as a reward for getting things done, as a motivation. Not orgasms, because while those are nice, and I could probably benefit from more of them, I want bondage. I miss my cage. I can count on one hand the number of times I've been in it in the past 3 months. It really helps me re-focus.

But, like all things in this relationship, I never want to feel like I'm pushing the Top to do something he doesn't want to do. And I feel like if I complain enough, things will change for a few days or even weeks, and then we slip back into a place where he thinks I don't need that* anymore. Right now, though, I can't imagine myself not needing that.


*That=micro-management and increased levels of play, I guess.

regressing

Jan. 12th, 2009 06:02 pm
topthemonkey: (Default)
I don't like being made to wear a diaper. It traps heat liek whoa, it's bulky and uncomfortable. Maybe for a scene once in awhile, but not for long-term. It's also very difficult for me to, y'know, "go" in a diaper. I'm told with practice you can overcome that but I don't  have enough interest to work on it.

I have to wear one until tomorrow, because I didn't shower this morning after I got up. This is a new punishment. I thought about ignoring it (the Top is at work and not here to make me) and just taking whatever he gave me later, like a beating, but quickly decided against it.


I can't see the new therapist anymore because of money. Have to find a new one, that I can't see for at least a few weeks anyway.


I'm back to where I was nearly two years ago, not eating because I'm too scared to go downstairs because I don't want to interact with other people there. At least, not without the Top there with me.
topthemonkey: (disappointed virginity)
I have a problem that I think is pretty common to submissives/slaves - never thinking you're good enough.

Not that you're not good enough for your Dom(me), it's not about feeling unworthy. It's about always feeling like you could be doing more, better. Like what you do is never enough.

"If I were a better slave, xyz would be easy for me."

"xyz" in my case tends to refer to a few specific duties.

Anything that involves the Top's semen and my mouth, particularly swallowing; shaving, particularly my genitalia; forgiving myself after the Top has forgiven me for an infraction . . . I guess those are the biggest ones. Sometimes my uniform, not wanting to wear it at all.

Two days ago I shaved my genitalia. The Top did not ask me to. He had not said anything on the matter. But my pubic hair was getting (what he considers to be) long and I knew, a)once he noticed he would say something, b) that it would please him, and c) it was what he expected from a good slaveboy. And I really do try to be a good slaveboy.

Yesterday I was beating myself up (mentally, emotionally) for not being good enough. I thought, I would be happy to do xyz for my Top if I were a better slave.

But then I thought, maybe it means more that I do these things for him that are often hard for me, things I would not do if he didn't tell me to.

If these tasks were easy, if they were things I would do anyway, that I liked doing, how much signifcance would there be to my doing them for the Top?
topthemonkey: (Default)
So in answer to the monkey's recent entry, rather than commenting inline, I'm simply going to annotate my own comments.

First and foremost, while when I got the text messages from her doctor (my voicemail transcribes them to text and sends them to me) -- it was already way too late to call him and reschedule.  It wasn't a disaster -- she still had enough meds to last until the the doctor could squeeze her in on a lunch break to see her.  (She did NOT have enough meds to make the next normal appointment).  We were out, shopping, doing nice things for the monkey, and I really didn't want to kill it.  I had just gotten her some very cute jeans, and we were in the process of getting her some NECESSARY and also ON SALE stuff from victoria's secret.  I was a little miffed at the time about the missing of the appointment, but I wasn't furious.  I got furious when I actually had to spend twice the money that I hadn't put aside.  We'd done other things this week that were already somewhat expensive (necessary travel, plus some nice recreational purchases), and after the stress of a long trip, it was the last thing I needed.  That was the time I was angry, and that was the time I wanted to take action.

When I brought her home from her doctor's appointment, I had envisioned basically getting things over quickly, then letting her take her meds, and sleep it off, no harm no foul.  Instead, the lack of sleep made her unable to take what I wanted her to -- even unable to take being put in a position and lectured (without being punished, as I was going to try).

If, two weeks ago, I'd have said "you're going to be punished for this when I get charged double two weeks from now and money is tight for other reasons" A) I would have been psychic as a part or ME assumed this would be negotiated down and B) I would have gotten two weeks of dread.  I no longer talk about punishments with the monkey in advance.  I used to.  It's just led to frustration and being attacked.  Now, when I'm upset, I don't bring it up in any place where it's a "trapping" situation, if I can help it.  I don't yell, I don't curse.  I just slowly burn and think about how to handle things.  If the monkey asks if I'm upset, I will be honest, but I do not prepare for a 45 minute car ride by saying "you're going to be spanked when you get home."

So now, being punished is always a surprise.  (Trust me, you don't want to talk about punishment when the monkey has her hand on your genitals.)  Quickly started, quickly done.

Yes, missing the appointment was a mistake.  It's minor.  It's not the end of the world.  I told her these at the time.

Neither is being punished.  Yes, it's unpleasant, and it hurts, but...this is what the monkey signed on for.  You knew I was a snake when you picked me up.

As we just discussed in the car -- I feel it's important to be able to channel my frustrations into punishments.  When the monkey does something that upsets me, which is as a result of breaching of standing rules or expected behaviors (for a silly example....being responsible for his own mental healthcare), and it makes me genuinely angry, I want to be able to dissipate that through punishment.  I flatly refuse to take out my frustrations on the monkey (or on anyone, really) for other situations.  I.e. I won't want to flog the monkey because I had a shit day at work, or because I'm angry at my roommate.  I don't want a human punching bag or stress-doll.  I've got video games and loud music for those other frustrations.  But when *she* does something wrong, there's a defined space in our protocol to deal with it.  I'm not sure what, if anger, I'm supposed to feel when I'm doing this?  I don't feel joy.  I don't feel relaxation.  I feel unpleasant to see her crying, oftentimes, a high-pitched screaming.  This isn't a turn-on.  It's a necessary thing.

There's been a time in the past -- the infamous "warehouse scene" where I truly unloaded on her.  Literally cuffed her to a shelf and wailed on her till I didn't hurt anymore.  But then, that was for something far more severe, and it's been dealt with in several more-practical ways since then.  The monkey fears that me actually channeling frustration into punishment will result in repeats of this situation, but I don't personally believe so.

I hope to one day have a monkey who will say "I understand you're angry, Sir.  I know this is going to hurt, please let's get it over with quickly."  Sometimes I can say that. Sometimes I'm triggered before we even begin. Yes, part of punishment is the ability to channel my frustrations into the situation when I'm feeling them.  And once said frustrations had been channeled, then it's over, and the monkey is forgiven.  I hold her, kiss her tears away, and the issue stays in the past (for the Top, anyway-I do not let go so easily)-- only revisited if there's a repeat offense that warrants harder training at a future point.

However, last tuesday, I got a monkey who said things like "I see, so you're not going to be happy till you beat the shit out of me."  And instead of being able to channel my frustrations into her, and put her to bed...I got cursed at, blown off, and got to go back to work angry, after having taken a three-hour-lunch for the monkey's benefit, where I coincidentally didn't actually get time to eat lunch.  Not that I couldn't stand to miss a few lunches, mind you, but you get the idea.

Nothing makes me wince more than someone who lovingly, and in tears, told me that it was important that I give her rules and enforce them turning it around and making me feel like a goddamned wife beater. Which I feel very guilty for. It's like I'm a different person, when I'm in that headspace. Not like that's an excuse, it's just, I don't know, a partial explanation I guess. It's damned hard to get out of that space of my own volition once I'm there and it's damned hard to recognize when I'm slipping into it.

I've been sick and we've both slept a lot, but we discussed it last night -- a critical detail the monkey missed in her own post is that while I slapped her gently a few times, I told her that IN LIEU of punishment, I was giving her a new behavior, and some new conditions....that instead of getting defiant, and turning into a person I don't recognize, who attacks me -- that I will not punish her as long as she begs not to have it.  I've also given her the ability to bargain, with whatever she likes, which effectively lets her have a means of communicating what she's willing to take as a transgression, and even commit to some feelings of guilt -- all the while not receiving something triggering.

I am totally willing to say if I can't get the "please sir let's get this over with quickly", I'll just as happily say I'll take "Please sir, please don't punish me, you can take away my ice cream for a month.   Please sir, I'll swallow every night.  Please sir, I'll let you take away my internet..."  And failing that, I'll accept "Please sir, I know I've been bad and need to be punished but I can't right now."  And in a perfect world if that last one was the answer -- then perhaps the monkey would come to me when she was ready.  -sigh- If only. But let's not go that far right now.  Right now, I'm simply giving her control of what does (or doesn't) happen to her, but letting her stay in character, as opposed to verbally and nearly-physically attacking me.  It's a new program, and I'd like to see how it goes. Well, I hope.
topthemonkey: (disappointed virginity)
Two weeks ago I had an appointment with my psychiatrist that I completely forgot about. He had not made a reminder call and I slept through the appointment.
The next day he called the Top, who was very displeased. He said it was all right though. It wasn't the end of the world or anything. I was given no indication that I would be punished.
The next time I had therapy I discussed this, related how even though it wasn't a big mistake, it made me feel so utterly worthless and I was trying to reassure myself and get past that feeling.

Fast forward to early this week when I saw my psychiatrist at the make-up appointment I had scheduled.
I (read: the Top) had to pay for both appointments, this one and the one I missed. He was very displeased. I was distraught. I thought the stress related to the missed visit was over. I had felt so guilty, but punishment had not been deemed necessary and I was trying to find closure. It was behind me. Now, suddenly, it felt as if all my guilt were justified.

When we got home, I was very anxious. The Top tried to talk to me about this, and it was clear we were leading up to a punishment.
I was starting to lose it and lunged at him at one point, but managed to stop myself from doing anything to hurt either of us.

I told him that I needed to take one of my immediate-calm-down drugs and take a nap (I was exhausted). He said no, basically.
I was very upset that he would deny me the medication that I had been prescribed for moments like these.

I lashed out at him verbally, said a lot of very rude, disrespectful and downright nasty things. He asked me if I trusted him and I said yes. He bent me over the couch and I called red. I almost never call red. But I was slipping, and just the act of bending me over was starting to push me towards the deep end.

The Top was not pleased. He went to work very upset with me. I went upstairs, took my medication and took a nap. Later he came home and went to bed, at which point I woke up, did some chores and then went back to bed.

We didn't really talk about what had happened until the next day, yesterday. I apologized for what I had done and he administered some very light spankings to my bare bottom as punishment.

It wasn't until last night that he understood why I had been so upset: in my mind, I was trying to move forward, the issue was resolved two weeks ago and now suddenly I was being punished for it, now that the Top had found out he had to pay for my missed appointment.

Bottoms/subs/slaves need punishments to be administered as soon after the event as possible. I really can't stress that enough.

The Top wants me, when I am in that teetering on the edge of sanity sort of mindset, to try and channel that energy into submission. To let him know what's going on inside my head by kneeling and begging, rather than being physically and verbally violent. I'm going to try. I don't anticipate it being easy.
topthemonkey: (Default)

Yes, I decided that for a) not being more on top of her meds and b) killing time I could be spending at work and c) REALLY not being on top of her meds, the monkey needed to be punished.

One of the things I stress to the Monkey is that my job IS critical to our relationship, and working in IT means odd hours, long hours, leaving in the middle of the night to code because that's when it can get done... Ergo, pulling me away from the office during business hours, is BAD.

I made her strip down to nothing, right in the kitchen, and then I bent her over the back of the couch, held her by the collar with my left hand, and bare-handed her what had to be fifteen or twenty times, on the right ass-cheek. She screamed, she howled, and a few times she started to lose her footing but I ordered her to stay in position, and she did.

Afterward, she had this attitude come over her. I call the attitude "the dark place". She gets narrow-eyed, spiteful, questions everything. Says things that make me doubt the relationship. Things like "is this what you wanted?" and "are you happy now" and (between sobs) "I want to go home". Everything about her; her tone, her demeanor, her body language...they all change. And honestly, when she becomes That Person (it's a mood shift, not like multiple personalities)...I just want to slap her down until she becomes the sweet, submissive, loving girl I adopted.

At one point, she was clawing into my breast, scratching, and I told her, outright: "You know what I'm going to take away if you attack me. (She'll lose her hair). Put your hand down." She did. Eventually, it was over, and I allowed her to take two of her panic attack medicine, which should have her out for the rest of the night. She tells me she wants to take it when she feels like hurting herself -- and I'm all in favor of that, but more often than not, rather than resorting to the crutch of the drug (and eight to twelve hours of drooling sleep), I try to push her through it. Tonight, I couldn't be there (I'm back at work, making up for lost time) -- and I couldn't be sure she'd be okay. I still dislike it. I've pulled her out of spots before where she just wanted to take it and go to sleep.

I see that drug as a parachute. If you're in a nosedive, it can save you before you crash...but you still lose something.

After, while she was making dinner for herself (I wanted her to eat something before she slept), she accused me of being "black and white". Either not punishing her at all, or punishing every little infraction. I countered with the fact that no, meds are just so singularly important. Our very first meeting was influenced by her needing to take those panic drugs, and not having them on her. You bet your ass (no pun intended) I'm going to be rigid about prescribed medications. She said "she felt like she was being beaten every other day." And again I countered that right now her contract only has one clause. The only other punishment she's gotten was for not bringing her nightmare drugs to a slumber party two hours away (note, again, that it's med related). I remarked that she needs to take more responsibility for her drugs now, as previously her parent handled all the refills and insurance and copayments, and now it MUST be her.

So she ate, and we cuddled. I tried to take her collar off, because I didn't want her to feel trapped by it. She begged me not to, and I left it on. I held her as the drug took effect, as she started to trail off. I brought her up to my room, and she stripped and went to bed, tethered and clad in only underwear.

I love her dearly. I don't enjoy seeing her scream and cry like this. But part of my job is to make her just a little bit afraid of not doing these things.
This is behavior conditioning. It's training. It's not always going to be pleasant. I sometimes wonder if some part of her believes that I'm just doing this because she complained she wasn't getting enough -- if she thinks I'm just trying to overfeed her.

topthemonkey: (disappointed virginity)
I got punished at least twice yesterday for several infractions. The Top wrote about it one or two posts ago. I don't think he really conveyed just how much I screamed and writhed. Screamed. Continuously. My throat was sore for hours after. And unlike after other punishments, I did not want the Top to hold me after. I didn't want him to touch me. I think he felt guilty. He asked me several times if I thought he was a sadist, if I thought he enjoyed hurting me like that, etc. He told me that I was a good boy, a good slave, that I was forgiven.

The most difficult part of punishments is accepting the forgiveness the Top offers afterwards and forgiving myself. I mean, enduring it is hard, but that's finite, that's going to end. The guilt doesn't have a finite period.
topthemonkey: (Default)

The monkey remarked last night that I needed to have money available for her to go to therapy. Two weeks of therapy plus one psychiatrist visit runs me $360. (130 + 110 + 110).

As I wanted this out of the way, as soon as possible, I decided I was going to take the monkey out with me.

I ordered her, last night, to go upstairs, strip out of her shorts (her shirt, I said, could stay on) and put on a towel, and also to get on her cuffs and link them.

She came downstairs, appropriately bound, and I quickly switched her cuffs so that, instead of linking just her wrists, both wrists were tethered to the D-ring on her collar.

I escorted her out to the car, and once I had her buckled in, I undid her towel so she was sitting bottom-naked. She remained like that, hands on her collar, exposed, for the entire 20-minute trip to the ATM.

When we got home, I re-wrapped the towel as best I could, and made her carry the money for her appointments into the house in her mouth.

It was after that, that I ordered her upstairs to wait in her cage for me -- I only came in for a moment to turn off the lights and lock the cage door, while I showered and got ready for bed. Some 25 minutes later I would take her out of her cage for the punishment described in the previous entry.

topthemonkey: (Default)

Note that I started writing this entry at: 2008-06-22 17:12:52

I've just ordered the monkey to go upstairs, strip naked, and get in his cage and wait for me.

What I haven't told him is that he's about to be punished.

One of the things that we agreed upon, very early on, was that the monkey's meds were important. Critically so. He's been punished in the past for not having them on him, and I've also been annoyed in the past when it's been broken to me that "I'm out of X".

We were away from home last night, in a strange place where the monkey had never been before, and the monkey forgot his night-time (nightmare-preventing) meds.

[Time passes]

7PM:

I found him upstairs, in BED, rather than in his cage as I had asked. He got seven strokes, mainly across his ass. I didn't punish him for being in the bed, as he had honestly mis-read our IM conversations when I said "cage". I really don't understand how that happened. It was over quickly enough. This is not a part of our lifestyle I find pleasant.

[Later that day]

2AM:

I found him in the bed twice more today...right before we went to sleep I gagged him, bent him over his cage, and gave him another six strokes. Even with the gag, he screamed pretty hard, burying his face in the clothing on top of the cage. He screamed and cried so hard. Said he felt "vulnerable" and "distant" after. I fell asleep pretty quickly, and feel bad I couldn't have held him longer after. I didn't want to be held. At all.

There are times I'd like to let this slide. But I can't. He signed the contract. Which means he's going to learn to respect my property. Or sleep on the floor. Once he's done being sick, there's going to be more consequence for removing his tether, too. Maybe I'll "lock" it with some of those breakaway seals.

topthemonkey: (Default)
The Top has been strictly enforcing the rules about his bed, and just being more with the discipline in general. Last night was the first time he had punished me in a long time, for being generally unproductive. It was difficult for both of us. I freaked out a bit. I didn't try to hurt myself or him and it passed fairly quickly, but I did say "fuck you" (which I also got punished for, after I had calmed down, along with looking at porn without permission) and was very . . . I guess ashamed is the word. Ashamed that I couldn't control myself, that I had that reaction.

I sobbed "you don't understand" over and over again, while I was freaking out over the first punishment. Because he made some comment that indicated this was exactly why he hadn't wanted to do this. And I meant, I was afraid that this would make him hesitant to punish me in the future. I need him to do this. I need him to get through it, for both of us.

The Top assured me that he wants to take control, he wants to beat me until I cry and beg and then say, no, I decide when this ends. Which I want too. I don't want him to be afraid to punish me or play with me.
topthemonkey: (Default)

I friend of mine recently posted in her own journal about being "tired of BDSM relationships that border on abuse".

For whatever reason, this morning, I was thinking a lot about this statement. I haven't been able to reach her to get her to confirm/deny if we were a relationship she was talking about, but...

Yes, admittedly, there are times where The Monkey has to endure pain as a result of her performance (or lack thereof).
While a more domly-dom-mc-dom-dom (Excuse me, sir, but it's "Domly Dom McDomdom") might say it's for (say)...not swallowing after sex, or failure to orgasm on command, the Monkey's currently being trained on doing things like cleaning up our room, or not to take missteps as major failures, or not to hurt herself or get down on herself. (Letting her get down on others...is a special treat for both of us, but I digress).

So, still being critical, how could this be interpreted as abusive?

Forcing her to dress in clothes I like (and buy?)...I suppose this is more "confining" than restrictive.

Forcing her to shave her body hair? Interesting point, but at the current time, she does it voluntarily, "because it makes me feel more submissive to you". (Well, yes, but I do it pretty much when I feel guilty for messing up.)

Not allowing her to orgasm? In general, if she asks, she may have it. Unless I'm planning something. Usually, when she gets it and I'm not around, she's ordered into her gear, and has to go lay in her cage to get herself off.

Removing her right to have things like pride and modesty? When lifestyle events are happening around the house, having her strip to her skivvies (or further?)...

I mean, yes, there are a few "standing threats"...things that may happen to her that she's afraid of. She may lose some of her hair if she loses control of herself again, to the point of attempting to hurt me. And yes, I'm displeased every time I come home and after a day of relaxing, find the bed unmade, or sex toys still out in the bathroom after use (instead of being washed and away), but she doesn't get beaten all the time (this phrasing isn't doing you any favors, sir)-- this is something we need to work on, slowly.

So then, in the just-woke-up hours of the morning: I pondered telling her: try it before you criticize it. I don't think that's fair. So what if it's not something she's comfortable trying? I don't think that impairs her ability to analyze it. But from the accusation, I wondered. Would it be possible to take on a submissive, with none of the above? No pain? No Embarassment?
No fear?

Yes. Yes it would. And it's more than possible. It's what I strive for, every day. So does he mean that it's possible with a perfectly trained submissive? The monkey is not my prisoner, she can leave any time she likes. Well, yes, but there are consequences. Another slave in our house is not allowed to say no to sex, and while the monkey cannot herself stand that enforcement, it's not forced on her. Everything that's given to her, she wants, or I believe she at least wants the results of. I agree. Beyond all of which, she wants to please me. She wants to serve me. Does she need to serve me, in order for me to love her? No. I don't love her any less when she falters. But my place is to train her. And the methods we have are what we accept.

She's allowed to comment here, of course, and will make any additional thoughts known.

This entry doesn't quite feel done, but will be continued in another post.

topthemonkey: (Default)
The Top asked me to write an entry concerning the events of today. Often I think that this journal exists as much for us, so we can each read how the other processed and remembered things, as it is for you, the readers.

(The top also comments in italic)

While he was doing work on his computer, I was on his laptop. The router has been moved out of his room though, so I lost the wireless signal. I didn't have any books with me. I did something that may have been rude, but I had done it before with no reprimand; I poked around in his files. I don't care about finding porn or anything like that. But I did find two things which really upset me. One was a short erotic story in which an owned submissive had the Top's nickname, too distinct to be coincidence. The other was a detailed list of expectations he, as a submissive, had of a mistress. That was what really got to me.

I've known since the day we met that the Top was a switch. I've known as long that he's done heavy play as a submissive, probably as or more heavy than what he's done as a Dom. I've never been fully comfortable with this, much to my shame. In the beginning especially I would compare myself to what I imagined him to be like as a slave, based on things he had told me. Inevitably I found myself wanting. I was often insecure that he had submissive needs I was not satisfying. This was furthered when I found out he had occasionally been submissive with a previous significant other, a relationship I had previously thought was one way.

I'm not sorry he has shared these things with me, and he isn't either. I would rather know and deal than be purposely kept in the dark. The Top thinks that I think these parts of his history make me question his ability to top me. And that's part of it, but it's more about my worrying that he does dominant things and suppresses submissive urges to please me and make our relationship work.

(I also believe, Monkey, that I feel it causes you to think I am judging yourself by my standards, which is never fair...for example, that you would feel bad about not being able to swallow, when I felt I could...or that the concept of "I won't hit you harder than I myself could take" turns around and makes you feel inadequate, and lesser.)

When I found the mistress expectations I curled up into a ball and sulked and cried. I repeatedly refused to tell him what was wrong. Only after making me strip naked, sit in the corner facing the wall, and repeatedly asking me did I confess. At one point during this I asked bitterly if this is what he would want done to him, as a submissive.

(That almost got you a belt across your back, boy.)

We talked it out and I said some things that I hadn't realized previously. Namely, that a large part of this insecurity comes from inability, or unwillingness, to comprehend that somebody could want, independent of me, the same things I want. That our needs match, that the other party isn't acting simply to please me. This negative, self-loathing thought process happens a lot with me when it comes to receiving oral sex.

The Top said that more than anything he was hurt it took so much for me to explain it to him, that I need to be readily honest and open because a D/s relationship, even more so than vanilla ones, necessitates good communication. He gave me several strokes with the rod for punishment, letting me maintain physical contact during and holding me after, telling me I was a good boy.
He also told me he was going to shave my head, gave me a chance to beg out of it, but ultimately got the electric shaving kit. The purpose behind this was that, while being bitter in the corner, I had said that I didn't feel like his slave. Shaving my head was to remedy this. I begged and cried but he didn't relent. I contemplated calling "yellow" but didn't feel the situation warranted it. Thankfully he only buzzed a little at the nape of my neck. I was ordered to shave my sex however, which I did later when we showered.

After the shaving and before the shower we had sex. I was wearing my ball gag (which in some ways I actually prefer to the bulb gag), small (comparatively) butt plug and nipple clamps. I rubbed my clit while he fucked me and came with him inside me. He pulled out and came on my face which was, as always, lovely.

(You left out that you made a motion, trying to tighten your own clamps, and that I immediately slapped you across the face and told you that those were not for your hands, and were off-limits. That felt right.)

Now I'm with my parents. I am going away for approximately a week, so the Top put my pet collar on. I am not to take it off unless airport security asks me to (or presumably I have to go to the hospital and get an MRI, things like that). Serious players often scoff at such collars and furries often ascribe them a less D/s meaning. But it simply makes me feel loved, wanted, taken care of . . . owned.

There was some discussion of having me pierced before I left. Ultimately, for a variety of reasons, this did not happen. I know the Top likes piercings as ownership marks and I have mixed feelings about this. In the Mistress expectations document I read, he said he would get a piercing for his Domme.

I just have to listen when he says I am fulfilling his needs and desires and deal with my insecurities. The Top has said he hasn't had any real submissive desires since we got together and I have no reason to doubt his word.

I had been questioning my willingness to go with him when he moves out of state but right now, if he clipped a leash to my collar, I'd follow him to Borneo.
topthemonkey: (fight club 2)
The monkey was rather bad a few days ago.

She masturbated herself to orgasm, without permission. She confessed to me immediately after she had done it, but by that point it was too late. She had done this in an attempt to get herself to sleep, for an appointment the next day. The appointment was a half-hour's drive away and at 9:15am. This was well after 3am. I tend to turn into an insomniac at home and I couldn't take my sleepy drugs because I would've slept through the appointment.

Later (last night), when I had her in front of me, I locked a leather collar on her, attached a leash and I asked her if it had occurred to her to actually *ask*. She told me that it had, but that she had not asked because she didn't want to bother me.

Which would bother me more? Getting a text message asking permission? Or getting a message telling me of standing orders being disobeyed. I'm guessing these are rhetorical questions.

I gave her a choice: be dragged to the basement, and be restrained and receive the crop, or have her body shaved bare. I appreciated this. I hate the basement.

(While I *prefer* this look on a slave (I think it looks/feels gross and it makes me feel vulnerable in this really upsetting way), I won't make it mandatory if they're really against it. My boy likes to be able to grow it out, so as long as he's well-behaved I'll let it happen.)

I put a bulb gag on her, stripped off her remaining clothes, placed a dropcloth (read: cheap plastic shower curtain-works very well) on the bed, and went and got the razor and the shave gel that smells sickly sweet and fruity.

Before I started, I gave her the final choice, pointing at her naked body. "Are you sure this is your choice?" She nodded.

I lathered her up, and shaved her mound bare, warning her that as soon as possible she would have to finish the job (as I wouldn't go very close to going inside). This was kind of disappointing. The act of being shaved (not how it looks or feels after) has the potential to turn me on a great deal, but that's really the shaving of the lips, which he pretty much stayed away from.

After I was done, I pulled her to sitting up using the leash, and shaved her armpits as well.
She laid back down and I looked her over, satisfied with her look. I took her gag off, and told her that she was forgiven for her transgression.
Then, with a beautiful, shaved slave laying before me, I put on a condom and began to penetrate her.

As we went on, she asked if she could masturbate. "If I get off before you do, you not only lose your chance, but you'll be punished, boy."

I took advantage of the situation, and ordered her to come. It's kind of arousing but at the same time, especially combined with the above statement, it made me feel pressured which makes me very anxious which makes it a lot more difficult to reach orgasm. I have to stay focused and make a concerted effort. Told her that she *had* to get off, and she masturbated furiously for the next 30 minutes, with me hard inside her the whole time. And I started crying at least twice from frustration, which isn't terribly unusual for me when attempting to reach orgasm with another person.

The whole time I was yanking on her leash (which caused the collar to dig into me and leave itchy red marks), pinching and twisting her nipples (that helped a lot), thrusting inside of her, and grabbing at her ankles.

When she came, I was able to feel her orgasm around me, and wasn't able to hold back any further, so I finished inside of her, rapidly. Which, if he had pounded me that hard to begin with, I might have finished a lot sooner. But maybe not and then the chance would be gone so I get why he held back.

We both fell, exhausted, for a few minutes, before showering quickly (he said I could shave my lips later), then going downstairs to eat and drink, and eventually, falling asleep.
I was incredibly drained, dehydrated, hungry, faint, dizzy, nauseous, and just emotionally overwhelmed. Penetrative sex tends to have that effect on me, the last bit anyway. I just wanted to crawl into a cold shower by myself and sob. I had a difficult time standing and walking as well as getting down the little food I did eat and keeping it down. I felt miserable. I believe I said that I never wanted to have sex again. An hour later, after I had showered, eaten, drank water and juice and taken some Rolaids, I felt a LOT better.


It was a very nice night. I just wish I had something before we started about being dehydrated and hungry.

Now, as I write this...I am feeling aroused once again.

***summons the boy***
topthemonkey: (Default)
A few weeks ago, the monkey made mention of one of her past sexual partners. One whom she had cheated with on others before. I was unaware of this person (specifically, I was unaware that I knew them -- in reality I had met them on several occasions, but only knew them by face, not by name). I discovered this recently, when we again met face to face, and I was able to put the nickname with the face.

I later remarked that "I'd probably have no problem with you playing with xxxxxxx". Or something similar. It was off the cuff, and didn't have a lot of thought behind it. Saying such was a mistake on my part.

The monkey claims herself to be a sex addict. I am not qualified to diagnose whether this is true or not. She also claims her sex addiction to be tied to a self-harm addiction, since when she does such, it's often unprotected. I can see the logic in this, I suppose (although I can't condone it.)

So, three days after saying that, the monkey confessed to me that she had, since my assent, gone down on this person. I was pretty devastated. I was angry. I was hurt. I'd be lying if I said I didn't think of dismissing the monkey -- doing so crossed my mind, but was not a serious consideration.

But I made the level of hurt and shock pretty clear.

Of late, I've been trying to get the monkey to take care of herself -- to do certain things each day, and/or week that are good for her. To eat well, to keep on track with her homework, to try to exercise herself, and since I've been relatively afraid of using pain as a motivator, I've simply told her that I'm stepping back slightly until she demonstrates an ability to do these things. Not having her stay with me *quite* as much (this is as much to allow me to focus on my own responsibilities, as it is to her).

So last night, as she knelt, nearly naked, before me, I questioned her.

"Have you done anything you aren't supposed to?"

"No."

"Have you gotten yourself off without permission?"

"Have I ever done that, Sir?"

*a brief touch of the cane* "Answer the question, Pet."

"No, sir."

Then it came up that she had committed a minor infraction: She had left her bulb-gag at home, and had *lost* her blindfold. For a while more, we did some play: her, in nothing more than a collar, on her hands and knees while I stood over her, holding her by the back of it so she couldn't drop out from under me, delivering a series of gentle strokes with the acrylic wand I have, until she tearfully called yellow, and I put the rod down.

She hates calling yellow. It makes her feel like a failure. She even apologized for it. I lovingly told her that I was proud of her for doing it, and that she should *never* be sorry for calling yellow (although in retrospect, there's the "I'm sorry I missed out on the activity I would have missed had the scene gone on" aspect, but I wouldn't call that "apologetic" so much as "regretful".

So, in the course of talking to her, that evening, after her interrogation, she confessed it to me: She had performed on him (gone down on) again, that evening. I told her, outright:

"The last time, I was 100 percent hurt and shocked. This time, I'm just 95 percent pissed off."

I told her that I felt like a complete ass for feeling bad about certain other things *I* had done wrong in the relationship, that I felt bad for being overly sensitive and overly cautious about her feelings and concerns instead of simply laying down the law (for example, when she felt uncomfortable when we had a third person sleeping with us, and she expressed concern so I sent the third party out without-question, or for the time when I was near-suicidal because I had pushed for sex when "I thought it was pretty clear I didn't want it", I felt silly for feeling guilty for having other people out in the wild, with collars I had given them, even when both they and I knew it was a platonic collar (yes, such a thing exists in my brain!).

I felt like an joke for having been *that* sensitive and concerned for her feelings over what amounted to simple mistakes, or innocent actions on my part, but that she was able to repeat-offend acts that she KNEW would hurt me.

She followed it up, teary-eyed, with another fun-fact.

"Afterwards, I masturbated."

That did it. I attached a padlock to the collar she was wearing, and told her to lay face-down on the bed. I fitted her with a ball-gag (not her favorite, but it's part of the punishment protocol), as well as putting her hands behind her back with a set of police cuffs (mainly because hard play makes her want to react violently, against herself).

I delivered five strokes to her ass. About as hard as I could do with the rod and wrist-action-only (putting my whole arm into it could have made it more painful). At the end of the five strokes, I held her, and whisperingly told her: "That was for lying. You've got more coming, but you've paid your penance for your dishonesty."

Another five strokes came, for her bringing herself off without permission, followed by a minute or two of cooldown.

Then, I had her switch positions, so she was laying perpendicular to me, with her head on my *left* (it had been on the right before), so I could take hold of her collar with my left hand.

"This is it, Pet. After this it's all over. But you're going to get ten -- five for the last time and five for this time, and they're going to be a little harder than the last ones were."

I delivered them, and they were hard.

Afterward, I checked her out, made sure she wasn't feeling any danger to herself, before removing her cuffs and gag. And I did feel a bit better. I let her know that any repeat performances of the things she had been punished for, would double the associated number of strokes as this time. As we went to sleep, I ordered her to go down on me. She did, without question. She swallowed, as well.

The next day, she thanked me for doing what had to be done. She said she's going to tell this person that she can't do this anymore, that she can't lie to me, and that if she continues doing this, she'll be hurt.

She's wandering around school today, still wearing a locked collar. I'd have made her do this anyway, as a reminder of who she belonged to, but she may get *slightly* fewer stares, considering it's Halloween and all. I almost made her wear the shock collar around her ankle (locked as well), but it's largely pointless as long as the batteries in it are dead (they'll be replaced, today) and as long as she's wearing jeans, since only she would see it anyway.

I believe I've built enough of an emotional connection with the monkey by now: I haven't "thrown her away" as she feared I might, but I am going to tighten my grip on her, start taking more control over her. There's still a tiny part of me that believes a tiny part of *her* did this to get me to react, but it's not going to be the kind of attention she wants. If I start seeing a trend in her doing things that earn her pain, I'll simply do other things to her: I know she wants her hair to grow out, and I can take that away, now that she's more reluctant to lose it (after all, it made sense to shave it in the summer, but we're a day away from november (some 80-degree october days we've had, notwithstanding)).

I've threatened as well, to have her tongue pierced (as while I can't fit her with an oral chastity device, it would be too painful to perform, orally, for a few weeks with that healing, and proper piercing care would warrant an almost obsessive-compulsive oral-hygiene habit that's not bad for a sub anyway). I may still do this, I'm not sure; If I do, she'll be dragged down to the piercing studio in *full* gear, on a leash.

She's not going to be permitted an orgasm for a while, either. I'm still debating whether I'll make her beg for it, or simply mentally add time onto her restriction if I see her begging. I know the Monkey will be reading this, so I'll let *her* figure that one out on her own.

But regardless of it all. I'm in love with a Space Monkey. And she will know love. Tough love, on occasion when warranted, but she will know it.
topthemonkey: (Default)
To those readers who were hoping to read another documentary of one of our twisted little romps, I apologize in advance for the slightly different tone of this article.

Communication.

Communication is important. More important, I believe, than trust. More important than love. More important than sex.

Without communication, it all breaks down.

This is especially true when your monkey is mildly insane flavored.

Since I started playing with the monkey, I have been trying, rather hard, to push the monkey in certain directions. I've been trying to push him to express his needs, to try and tell me what he's feeling, and maybe even try to expound on *why* he is feeling what he's feeling (although I recognize that the irrational nature of feelings, even in most "normal" people, will cause that one will not always know WHY one has a feeling, just as one cannot stop feeling a given feeling at will). I have tried to encourage the monkey to call yellow when he has had enough of a given treatment, and I have tried to cause the word "yellow" to be sacred.

I suppose some background is necessary on how I treat the rather standard words "yellow" and "red", because I believe they're different from the standard stoplight system most kinksters play.

For most, I believe, yellow means "don't go any harder than you're going", for example, if a submissive is being whipped, this indicates that they are at, or close to, the point at which they cannot take anything harder.

For myself and the monkey, "yellow" is more of a "detour" -- it means "something is getting dangerous to triggering some unpleasant reaction, and might do so even if the degree of stimulus is lessened." Thus, if I am using my favorite lucite rod on the monkey, leaving a lovely series of bruises, and the monkey calls yellow, the rod goes *away*. Out of my hands, out of sight. It doesn't come out again, usually in the same evening. I tell the monkey so -- that it's away and that it cannot hurt her anymore. I want her to believe this, and I believe this behavior is at the core of some of the trust I am trying to build. Even if the monkey is tied and blindfolded, I feel it's important to communicate that she's free of the potentially bad stimulus.

Similarly, "Red" means "EVERYTHING STOPS." Full abort. Gear comes off, goes away. Dominant tones cease (although a steady, reassuring, "okay, I'm taking this off you, okay, everything is okay" is warranted), but otherwise, lines of communications are implied to go full open. Speech restrictions are fully removed, and like the CS geek I am, at this point, one can choose to launch the debugger, look back through the stack trace, and figure out what caused the panic.

I digress.

There have been times, recently, where the monkey has felt afraid to express her own emotional needs -- where she wants to be held, to be loved, to be dominated, to be hurt...and because she's afraid of feeling "needy", she does not tell me her feelings and desires.

I continue to tell the monkey many things. I am her dominant. I am the top. I am in charge of her. But I am *not* psychic.

A day or two ago (depending on one's definition of days, as it's well after midnight as I write this), the monkey was upset with me. I had been working outside, doing things other than playing with her, and she was out of sorts. (I welcome the monkey to comment on this). She wanted to make me angry at her, and the words "Fuck You" escaped her mouth, in what I felt was a hurtful tone. I admit to not being able to replay the rest of the conversation up to that point, because of the intensity of what *has* stuck with me, and I apologize, both to reader, and monkey.

But then, it wasn't more than three seconds after her impudent utterance before my hand slapped across her cheek, and she started crying, almost instantly. As much as it has taken some adjustment on my part to not feel this particular behavior is NOT abusive (it's been asked for, repeatedly), and it's become our sign of "this is how you know you're in trouble" -- this was unusual. It was not a particularly hard slap -- hard enough to leave her cheek red, but not enough to even turn her head. It was, however within earshot of others (I do not know if anyone heard it). From there, we retired to the monkey den, and sat down and had a long talk.

There were times when she was crying, in a mood I call "the bad place", begging me to hurt her, and in such cases, I generally do not deem it healthy to do so -- This is not the classic case of the sadist refusing to hurt the masochist, this is, instead, the case of "there's a time when it's safe to play with pain and when I feel you will respect your own limits, and this is not one of them, and I will not feed into such behavior".

But we talked, a lot. And I held my monkey, a lot. I told my monkey, over and over, how much she was loved. Made her repeat it after me. "I am loved." "I want to learn to love myself." "I am a good person." "I will learn to treat myself better." and other such affirmations. We continued to discuss it late into the night, and I told her, outright, that if we had another communications breakdown such as this, where she left me in the dark about her feelings to the degree that things came to such a head -- that it would be dealt with, in a caring, and loving manner...that I would make everything okay, and give her what she needed...and when it was all over, she would go to the basement (or something similar).

I drew for her, an alternate scenario of our basement play --

And I suppose at this point, I should explain what the basement is. Normally, the basement is a place where she is cuffed to a hook above her head, stripped naked, gagged, blindfolded, and whipped -- usually with a number of strokes she knows in advance, and usually with a look-me-in-the-eyes-and-tell-me-why-you-are-about-to-be-punished confession. It is NOT play, it's discipline, and it's quite serious. The use of safewords falls back to far more reserved meanings (as in, physical inability to take punishments, as opposed to discomfort). After all is over, when the blindfold is removed from her tear-stained eyes, she is held, told that she's forgiven, and loved, and loved, and loved.

Much like the "space monkey" analogy that formulated the title of this blog and it's starring role, there is, similar to Fight Club, a spot in our basement where the floor is stained with sweat, tears, mucous, and the spread footprints of a naked slave who knows they've done something wrong, chained in the place where I first showed her pain, where I first triggered her, before she was even mine.

But this time, I painted a different scenario -- one in which there would be no pain, merely standing, and waiting, contemplating -- considering what one has done, alone with one's thoughts...maybe for hours or more -- possibly even wearing a diaper. Instead of our usual cuffs, instead there would be suspension cuffs, and spreader bars, standing, uncomfortably, for as long as it took. "This is the consequence of non-communication. Not pain, not anguish, but just a timeout, A long timeout."

I asked the monkey, again and again, if they believed I was capable of doing this.

"Yes, Sir." was the soft reply in my ear.

I swear to whatever chaotic forces that helped create the universe, that are as close to a deity as I am capable in believing in, that I never have to do this to my monkey. And just as much, I swear that I will do it if it becomes necessary.

I love her. I feel with her as I've felt with no other. She satisfies and completes me in ways previously unimagined -- but without communication -- without her being able to tell me when something is wrong, when something is breaking, when she is feeling hurt, I don't feel I can be the dominant she needs me to be. She accuses me of reminding her too many times of how intensely emotions run in BSDM relationships -- but it's not an environment in which I feel safe taking shots in the dark.

I've told her many things in the past. I've told her I am not afraid of her crazy. I have told her she will not scare me away. I have told her that I will stand by her through the worst, as long as she will let me stand by her. And I stand by every statement I have made. I am willing and ready to commit to her for this...we've known each other a short time but I feel this so deeply.

I have told her of a previous mate, who had a hanging fetish -- and in telling her of my ways to satisfy *that* fantasy -- the machinations I would take -- of panic release snaps, of the drop-weight calculations, of the pulse oximeters and OSHA-compliant safety harnesses I was ready to buy to complete this fantasy, before that previous mate disappeared from my life -- all those things in that fantasy, being things I need to, as the responsible one, as the one in charge, to *know* that things are as okay as they possibly can be, that things are as safe as possible.

This, to me is no different. I'm the boss-man. Need the info. I cannot make her wear a 24 hour EEG, nor would one even be reliable in determining the types of moods, the types of needs felt, the types of insecurities that can be alterted-to with a simple word, gesture, or a look (once the monkey makes such looks clear to me, and tells me that this is their meaning). Without that, I am in the dark. And that is where I will leave the monkey (still firmly in my care), if comms fail.

Hello. My name is D, and I am, reiterated once again, and as always, in love with a Space Monkey.
topthemonkey: (Default)
Note: This is a backposted entry, so some of the details may be inaccurate.

My space monkey had a rough day today.

He returned today, after school and after spending the weekend with his Master.  When I inducted him into my care on Friday, I had given him a single "homework" instruction: I wanted her sex clean-shaven.

There were also a few other constant-care things that, between her master and myself, should seem to be common sense to the monkey.  In this case, there is one particular text message I got that annoyed me:

"Always forget it's a 20 block walk from Master's house to train station...Missed train by 3min.  Next at 1.39.  Haven't eaten.  Drank less than half a glass of water."

This had been because the Monkey had overslept.  The monkey is also supposed to ALWAYS carry food with her, just in case (which is always a good idea in general when using public trans).  By the time the train got her to school, the classroom (where she was due to hand in a midterm) was empty.  She knew she had messed up.  I told her, outright, that I was going to defer the right to punish her to her master (who she was due to see while at school).  As it turns out, however, he did nothing, promised nothing, as a result of her actions.

I texted her, and told her I would meet her at a train station at around 530.  Thus began a long day.

We stopped at one home depot, and picked up a bunch of eye-bolts.  I wanted to pick up snap-linkages as well, but that particular home depot was out of them.

We wound up at a second home depot, and finally *got* the damned linkages.  I also made her stand, with her legs spread, on the pavement in front of the store, and measured the gap: 42 inches.  I bought a 1" diameter dowel, and sawed it down to that length in the store.

After that, we stopped at Petco, where we bought a thin-style collar, leash, and a stainless steel bowl, all for kitty-boy play.  The space monkey looked at me with the cutest look. 

"Sir, could we please just *look* at the cages?"

Hi, my name is D, and I am in love with a Space Monkey.

I led her, by the wrist, to the back of the store, where I did some quick math on prices and dimensions, and tried to figure out if she would be able to fit comfortably.  Finally, I opened up one of the display cages, and told her.  "Get in, pet."

She fit in quite easily, smiling contendedly as I closed the door, latching it shut.  He looked so content in the cage, it was almost a shame to open it up and bring him out.

This is definitely going to be a purchase in the near-future.

Following that, we stopped off at one more place: the local drugstore, where I picked up extra cartridges for my Venus razor.

We went home with our spoils, and I set out upon a few tasks:  First, I assembled the spreader bar, driving an eyebolt into either end.  I then proceeded into the panic room, sinking a few eyebolts into the floor.

Then it began.  The monkey was ordered to strip.  Blindfolded.  Ball-gagged (and he looks so cute in it).  His hands were attached, over his head, to the eyebolts at just beyond shoulder-width.  Ankles were locked into a spreader bar.

And then, she was lathered, and her crotch shaved bare.  I did 90 percent of it, and left the other ten percent to her, in the shower, later.

The rest of the day is a little fuzzy, honestly.  We did a lot.

That night, however, she had a punishment coming due.  She knew it, and unlike regular scening and bedroom play, this one was to be severe.  She was stripped naked , and her wrists cuffed to a ceiling bolt (the same bolt from the famous 6/16 incident).  The spreader bad went on her ankles.  I stood in front of her, looked her down in the eyes, and asked if she knew what she had done wrong.  She was well aware.  I asked if she was ready to accept the consequences of her actions, and once again, she answered in the affirmative.

I put on her blindfold and buckled her gag as tightly as it would go.  Then it began: nine strokes with the crop.  She didn't cry, although she flinched noticably.  Once it was over, I held her and told her she was, once again, a good slavegirl.


As I was leading her upstairs, we talked about what harder object she could be hit with...when it occured to me, that I was carrying a 1" diameter by 42" long wooden rod.

I had her brace herself across one of the basement support beams, and gave it one or two cautious whacks, before I dragged her to another support beam where I had full room to swing the thing, stickball-bat style.  I took one shot at him, and his back arched like mad, gasping.

The bruises still haven't faded, as of 7/2, but he's quite proud of them.

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October 2012

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