discipline update

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.

"Last night was really nice"

...said the monkey this morning.

We were up late last night. And I was drinking coffee. Caffiene does...insane things to my libido. Unfortunately it also makes your ejaculate taste disgusting.

Sex in the usual positions I like has been on hold since we've had the whole "ikea-auto-collapsing-bed" issue, but last night, after we got to bed very late (like 4am), the monkey began to get me off with her hand...and I, being wired and tired at the same time...expressed all my fantasies for her: branding her, tattooing her, piercing her (the only one of these I can see realistically happening in the near future), locking her in a pet-crate on the back porch for others to come along and pick up, and take away, to use however they wanted. At one point, I forbade her to use the word "I" until I came. Which I really liked. I wouldn't want to do third-person all the time, but once in awhile I enjoy it.

I think I really pushed her into subspace pretty hard with it (agreed), and combined with the nighttime effects of her meds and the late-night crazy, it formed a nice place she could get into mentally. I'm not sure what you mean by this.

After I had, she asked if she could get herself off...and I talked her through this as well...telling her that eventually, she'd be body-trained so she wouldn't be able to get off without my orders...that her whole body was my property, and how much I loved it when my property took care of itself.

In the end, she was able to orgasm (rather powerfully) on command -- despite not being gagged, plugged, or whatnot (and she usually takes quite a bit of stim, there). This is something that a year ago she would have had so much trouble with. Well, it helped that there was A LOT of build-up and that you weren't like "1, 2, 3, orgasm".

While we were at it, we discussed some interesting perspective items that may have only come to me in the odd mental state that comes from being tired on a lot of caffiene...but even now they make perfect (if not perverted) sense. I have no idea what this is referring to.

I'm so proud of my pretty, pretty slaveboy.

thoughts on the politics of body hair

The Top likes a shaved slaveboy. Ankles to knees, armpits and groin. But especially the groin. This monkey hates shaving.  (As Usual, the top's comments are in bold). As usual? You've done this maybe once!

I shaved regularly when I was a teenager. Part of it was the absurd but commonly held belief that as a female I would not be sexually attractive unless I was hairless. When I stopped cutting, however, I didn't think it was such a good idea to keep razor blades around. So for the past few years I've shaved my legs maybe once every 6-8 months, my armpits once every 3-5 and my groin maybe once a year. My body hair is light and thin. I really like being fuzzy. I don't have a hirsute fetish, but I prefer women who don't shave.

Shaved vaginas freak me out. You know that vagina monologue, where the woman says that in order to love vaginas you have to love hair? Yeah, I'm with her. A shaved pussy makes me think pre-adolescence. I think that Brazilian bikini waxes are indicative of our nation's fixation on sexualizing children. When brazilian bikini waxes and childhood collide, then it's really freaky.

This has nothing to do with pre-aolescence, although I've encountered a number of females who don't want to shave because it "makes them look 12". 
It has nothing to do with pre-adolescence for YOU, but I'm talking about my own personal associations.

It's a kind of vulnerability I don't like feeling. I've shaved my body, but especially my vagina, when I was feeling self-loathing, when I've missed my dead father, when I've felt alone and scared. A smooth crotch doesn't make me think sexy. It makes me think crying in the shower.

...and yet when you've felt most upset at your own actions, you've presented yourself to me, shaved and exposed, like a good girl..
Because I know it pleases you and I know you know it's not something I like doing. It's an act of penance, I suppose.

This is a part of the protocol I've always felt it right for a slave.  All their positions, all the ways they are to carry their bodies, should imply that they wish to hide nothing.  This is evident in more than just the shaving.  My standard sitting positions are all laid out to leave the hands visible, showing that you are holding nothing that can be used against your master.  As regards your body,  I want my slave equally exposed, I want her hair out of her face where she can't hide in it.  I don't want her able to hide behind her glasses. And yes, I want every detail of her sex to be visible to me.
And this all makes sense to me.

The Top loves when my vagina is shaved. He just wants to fondle it and lick it and he gets this ridiculous smile on his face.  Calling your top ridiculous doesn't help the plight, Boy... Not YOU sir, just your smile! And it's not a *plight*.

I think perhaps part of why he likes it so much is that he knows I don't like it. I do it for him. I know that growing it out is a privilege. If I had my druthers, I wouldn't shave it. I don't care if it would never mean being licked by him. My body hair is more important to me than receiving oral sex from my primary partner. Or from anyone.

There's a good number of things that I would have you do that you don't always like.  You dislike the shorts and skirts, you're a fan of wacky crazy socks ("wacky" because I like different colors and keen-highs?) as opposed to the plain white ones i prefer.  You love your glasses whereas I love to look into your eyes with your face unobstructed (and the fact that you're near-blind and helpless is only a TEEEEEENY part of the attraction there). Teeny, uh-huh. Sure.

It's not just about the fact that I like being fuzzy. My body hair, in many ways, is a protest. It says fuck your fascist beauty standards, fuck what you think I should look like, fuck what you think should make me sexy, fuck the ways you made me hate myself you stupid bullshit patriarchal society.

Lets be frank: I also thought you were attractive with your head shaved, and Natalie Portman aside, that's pretty against the societal standards for attractive. Yes, sir, but this isn't about whether your personal tastes concerning body hair are socially accepted, it's about my feelings on my body hair.  I'd love to require you to keep that buzzed down as well.  Failing that, I'd want you to keep the nape of your neck buzzed, where your gag buckles...

...but I know you can't do that, (well, maybe just the nape of my neck) and I won't make you...unless we have what I've called a "reset level event".  Where I decide we need to re-examine the relationship from the beginning, and I need to re-take you as my slave, from the beginning.  Of course you know this, but this is for our readers.  The things that would cause this are a pretty short list: drugs, self-injury, attacking me physically. Having sex with other people you hate.

Not shaving is about reclaiming my body. I have a lot of body issues. I've hated my body a lot over the years. I've also hated myself and taken it out on my body.

"Reclaiming your body."  Of course, you recognize, that it's not your body to claim or re-claim. Of course, you recognize that I was also talking about the past few years where I've rarely shaved.  It's my property, now.  And part of wearing the collar you've been wearing is accepting that. I honestly didn't think of that.

But good monkeys, they do what they're told. And if it really upset me he wouldn't make me do it.

...which is why for a slave who enjoyed the exposure, an eventual reward would be in getting them treated so they didn't have to maintain it anymore.

For you, if your behavior becomes exemplary, your reward is that you'll be allowed to grow it out from time to time.  However, if we're planning on doing public play, demonstrations, or the like...I will most likely expect you to have the expected appearance. Which I think is understandable.

You'll earn your crotchfuzz, boy, if you keep up the good work.  And I know you can.

Conversation we had after I read the Top's annotations:
me: Sir, you realize this entry wasn't about *you*, right?
the Top: What? I'm the dominant, everything's about me! [(mostly?) joking]

...on ownership...

For at least a couple months now, I've talked occasionally about getting married to the monkey.

This is an interesting subject for me, and my reasons for it are odd. Actually, I know at least one person who got married for insurance benefits, so I don't think it's that odd. I mean they loved their significant other, but that's what made them sure.

The monkey is on some heavy and expensive medications. She requires regular psychiatric and therapeutic care. It costs me on average a grand a month, (it so does not! It's more like between $600 and $650, not including the gas used driving to appointments and whatnot) out of pocket, and we MAY not see it back, as the insurance was rather confusing. My therapist was assured that we will get almost all of it back.
And (dark a thought that it may be) she's had some heavy self-injury issues years ago that could be a disaster if they ever surfaced again. Love, that would be a disaster in my life whether I were with you or not. Also, we play in some pretty heavy things, and one ER visit that gets deemed "

Right now, she's insured on some student terms that are, IMHO, pretty shaky as she's positioned to graduate soon, and she's also living in a different state from that she's a student of (and is still using her home address to get them). I'm also insured under my step-father's job. Which is actually really good insurance.
My job's rather-good insurance will cover her, but only as a wife. A job I could have taken in California would have covered her as a domestic partner, having only to share an address, sign a piece of paper, open a joint bank account, co-own a car, or any other amount of similar things, to get the whole deal.

The monkey, as many know, identifies as genderqueer, sometimes a boy, sometimes a girl...and is a big fan of gay marriage, and the rights therein. Like any person who's not an idiot and/or asshole. For other personal reasons (that I'm sure will be annotated), the monkey is NOT a fan of marrying simply for benefits reasons. It means something to me. It's a religious and legal institution which makes it complicated but it's something I take very seriously. It's not a step I feel ready for at this point in my life.

Myself, being totally non-religious, I see marriage purely as a legal construct. I do not need a piece of paper to tell someone I will love them always, that I wish always to have them in my life. I think that goes without saying, sir. I do not need the approval of either a legal system I have less respect for, which denies people equality -- nor the approval of a religion I do not subscribe to, to say whose hand I hold. Really you hold onto my wrist, not my hand.

(Oddly, I do prefer the strength of a piece of paper as a way of enforcing what I may or may not do to a person; i.e. I have less doubt about punishing the monkey on the clause she has signed a contract for me for, than other behaviors -- but that is simply a contract strictly on our own terms, not subject to the interpretation of a greater legal or religious body.)

I do, however, need a piece of paper to be able to say "I am supporting this person, give me a tax break", or "she's with me, give her healthcare", or "she's on my car insurance", or the quite-extreme "She's not conscious, I'm coming with her, let me in the goddamned ambulance". I've been on both sides of the emergency room doors when they were slammed in people's faces: "Sorry, family only". Boyfriend doesn't cut it. Fiancee doesn't even cut it. I haven't personally tried "I'm her master" but I doubt it would be better.

And yes, for most queer types, marriage is an obstacle. My argument and opinion has always been "at the moment, you're legally male and I'm legally female. Yes, we're sorry our gay friends can't get married, (nevermind that I identify as queer/gay) but if the system doesn't respect us, what's to stop US from milking the system for our convenience?" It feels cheap to me. False. The system sucks, but I don't think that's a reason to use it like the Top is proposing.

So I want the benefits of Marriage, but this too has seemed "off" in the monkey's head, until I made an analogy clear to her. I am adopting her. Taking her in, just like a child. I own her. And in order to do that fully, the marriage may be necessary. It's not the modern, 20th-century "mutual partnership". It's the 19th century "you better love, honor and obey me" role.

And while "Daddy" is a sensitive word that we tread carefully around and that I will never require of her [because of her own issues with her passed-away father, and because a previous, abusive ex required it (he didn't require it)] -- I do want a parental, guardian-like role. I want to be the one who holds her and tells her she's a good girl (or boy). I want to be the one who she cuddles up to and feels warm by. She's the one I want to make sure is well taken care of in my life insurance policy if god-forbid anything happens to me. We laughed about it last night. She can be my Dick Grayson.

I discussed a good portion of the above with a friend and they suggested something alternative: power of attorney.
Virginia, where we currently live, is generally obnoxious about this, to the point where I want the REAL thing. Besides which, I consider Power of Attorney to be a slippery slope: in taking it, it's sometimes more difficult to get back, even when both parties are consenting.

On a psychological, training level, while we've discussed in previous entries that I DO NOT want her body shaved because I like the "twelve year old" look, there IS something about the cleanliness and uniformity of it all: she hasn't "come of age" yet. Not physical age, but simply: that like a child in school, she's not allowed to choose her own clothing, she's not allowed the privilege of getting a job outside the house, she's not allowed most of her own life decisions (although I'll respect academia and religion as personal choices), just as like a child, her "job" is having chores around the house and getting an allowance when her behavior warrants it.

Right now, she's a slavegirl, or my "boy". They're adolescent terms but don't necessarily imply ageplay. "Boy" has long been used in the leather community to designate an inferior, a trainee, an apprentice. Actually, the nickname "boy" was coined for me years ago when a friend says I was fun to play with, like a Ball Of Yarn.

And one day, she may "graduate", and take the world by storm -- be allowed to earn and spend her own money and buy some of her own clothes. -giggle- *That's* taking the world by storm, sir? I would very much like it if one day, she were able to turn her experiences in this into a career as a writer, speaker, or educator, sharing the fact that this can in fact be something loving and caring. And after all that, I'd be honored if she will wear my collar, kneel before me at a word, and when she enters my bed, she will still ask me first.

Hi, I'm the top. And I want to Keep this monkey. Always.