topthemonkey

Neither of us posted about it, but I bit the bullet and made an appointment with a therapist. It's later today, in San Francisco. It took a lot for me to do that.

I've only been to San Francisco a couple of times, I've only taken public transportation there once when we first moved here, and I've become a lot more anxious about, well, doing stuff independently I guess. Since before the Top and I got together but it's increased a lot with him.

So as is totally not unusual for me I wrote out very carefully what buses and trains I would have to take, how long the rides were, departure and arrival times, alternate times in case I was early or late, fare costs, and walking directions when necessary. I figured I was going to have to walk from the Top's work to the bus station to get going on the first leg of the trip, and getting there would take an hour and a half. Getting back would take more like two. All of this took some times. I was told the Top wouldn't have a car, so I couldn't count on a ride to a train station to eliminate at least one bus portion of the trip.

The Top comes home yesterday and tells me that not only does he have a car but for work he's going to have to be in San Francisco (though not near my therapist) so I can just take one short train ride to my therapist.

I . . . was upset. The Top did not understand, as he saw this as making life easier for me. And, yes, in the long-term (shorter long-term?) it does. But immediately it means I have to throw out the pages of painstaking directions I made and start all over again. A lot of effort wasted.  I realize that the situation changed, new information was received, etc. But I really hate changing plans last minute, especially when I've planned it all out so thoroughly.

I emotionally prepare myself for things to go a certain way. This gives me a sense of confidence and stability, when I'm so thoroughly dependent on the Top and incredibly anxious about going farther than the driveway by myself.

OK, now the Top tells me that he will be leaving San Francisco far before I will be done with therapy. He's had this information all along. I guess he figured it would be obvious to me. I'm really glad he told me this before we got going and I left the return directions at home, leaving me to figure out a two hour trip involving two buses and a train without schedules or anything.

The Top has admitted that he "flies by the seat of his pants," changes plans last minute all the time, and enjoys this. I do not enjoy these things, for the previously stated reasons. The Top does not seem to understand this. The change in plans make the trip there shorter, cheaper, and easier for me. He told me I could go in the way I planned, which would be sort of ridiculous.

This time the last-minute change in plans is not his fault, I know. I don't mean to blame him. It's just distressing to me.

The monkey is out with X. You know, the guy who doesn't understand the word no, and who has repeatedly forced himself on her and that she maintains a friendship with. She's out with him alone, which was previously forbidden, but due to the short nature of the trip and the fact that "getting a group together" (i.e. anyone so they're not alone) would have been hard, I allowed her to see him, just this once.

Inside me there's a little voice that's telling me that something's going to happen once again: That she's going to fuck him, or go down on him, or something like that. Even though I've forbidden it. I feel like a terrible person for suspecting this, but I've been disappointed before.

I've worked very hard to express to the monkey that it's okay for her to express limits, and say no, and say when she can't handle something. I don't know that, if a situation came up, she'd be able to hold to those same limits with him. The bigger problem is...I feel like the monkey wants to do such things. It feels terrible to think I'm not enough (ignoring the fact that we're about to be visited by a potential Second Slavegirl).

I'm sitting in the city, at a job site. I'm ready to throw this laptop out a goddamned sixth story window.

And I'm feeling like a real jerk because I just bought her a little present near here this morning, and I'm anticipating how much she'll like it.

I just tried the monkey's cell phone. No answer.

Nor have I seen her online.

This is starting to get to me. By my count, we went to bed at around 2am last night.

Starting very soon, I'm going to be transitioning to early-early-mornings to early-afternoons (i.e. leaving my office before rush hour starts), getting home before the rush-hour-out starts.

This is where we come to the "n of m" problem. I, the top, LOVE n of m problems, such as the recent sayings about the mars lander "on time, on budget, on mars, pick two."

In this case, I require about eight hours of sleep. The monkey requires about 12, with it getting progressively worse the later she goes to bed (and her waking up in worse shape). She continually asserts that it's not 12. Trust me, monkey, it's 12.

a) I've stated it before -- I want a slavegirl who will wake up and set out my clothes for me, and have a cookie and some coffee ready to go in a travel-mug for my hour-long commute. Right now, I've got her waking up to take medication, but it's often met with unggggghhhh back to sleep. In a perfect world, she'd be up before me, would have done her stuff, and would wake me up on time. Neither of us adapt well to waking up early...but I now HAVE TO.

b) The monkey wants to go to bed with me. She's most comfortable falling asleep in my arms. Of course, with me going to bed at 8-9ish...there's no way without drugging herself. I contend that there are times I need to send her to bed without me, but I admit it's nice to fall asleep next to someone. Especially when one of their duties is to ahem help get me to sleep.

c) The monkey wants unbroken sleep. I've stated that I'm much more comfortable with her taking a nap in the middle of the day, so long as it's done with an alarm clock.

So: To bed with me, up with me, sleeping the whole time. Pick two. Hint: the one I want is far less negotiable.

This could get a bit odd, and could take a while to get used to.

Monkey and I are staying with another Master/Slave couple. I continue to say "temporarily" although desires have been expressed on all sides to make it a more permanent arrangement. That said, you may see some new players in this Journal. I'll generally refer to myself as "the top" in this Journal, and in general do not prefer the title "Master" for myself (although I'm working on accepting it as a "calling" in scene, i.e. "Yes Master" (I've always preferred "Sir") but not "Master D"). My philosophy has been, as it was in the past -- I've had business cards that read "CTO" of companies, but "System Admin" is what I *do*. It's an action word. Master is a title. And I've never been one for titles.

So for now, and for a while in the future, you may see an odd mishmash of alphabet soup here, dear readers.

In writing here, you may see my new housemate and partner in crime referred to as "The Master" or "The Master of the House" (Abbreviated: TMOTH) or something similar. I, for all intents and purposes, and in keeping true to the spirit of this blog, am to be referred to as "The Top". My partner will always be "The Monkey", regardless of what role she fulfills here, be it slave, submissive, or simply pet. For the record, I don't plan at this time to have any other partners of this nature, although I've given a few other people a few orders since I've been here. (That may be the subject of another post entirely). If/when I/we take up permanent residence in this house, this Journal's profile will be updated with these acronyms, including some well-anonymized info on other regulars, such as slaves the master may regularly be training.

We now return you to your regularly scheduled posting...

It's been noted in this journal that I've had trouble in the past getting the monkey to "call" when he's feeling at his limits. And this lack of communication has been frustrating enough that it's been maddening, especially during periods of intense pain play. During the Monkey's recent (first) flogging, this was one of my fears -- and while I was sitting there, ready to stop the scene if the unthinkable happened, I had not made it clear to TMOTH that there was a danger factor. Given, the monkey was well-restrained. Given, I could have handled the situation, and given, the Bad Things did not happen, but...

So, for whatever reason today, the Master's current slavegirl was sent up to the master's room. I took the opportunity to send the monkey up to hers as well, and to stand for a few minutes in the Kitchen and talk with TMOTH about things, basically covering things such as:

• The need for certain "out of band" signaling in play between us.
• Modifications to house rules such that we can give a single command and have the slaves clear the room so that we may talk. (I may have to get some sort of hearing protection devices for the slaves to wear during these times).
• My reasons and logic for sending the Monkey back home.
• My expectations and desires for what changes will happen upon her return.
• A few "you should know about this, I should have told you about this before" items concerning the Monkey's flogging.
• Some of my own history, that despite having known The Master for ten years, that I wasn't sure he knew.
• Differences in our respective dynamics, and where we can come to a meeting of the minds (for example, the fact that we take to mean yellow where most people mean red -- or at least did in the past).

So, after I called the Monkey back down, and The Master had gone back upstairs for some alone-time with his slave, the monkey asked what we had talked about. And then kept asking if we had talked about specific things, and what was said.

While he asserts he didn't really "force the issue", I don't feel he adequately accepted the fact that he was sent out of the room so we could talk for a reason. He's now expressed concerns that nothing he's said will be in confidence (this is not the case -- but some information is important for people to know.) I feel I gave in too much and didn't take the "none of your business" stance hard enough.

Oddly, the monkey LIKES being talked about when he's in the room, as though he's not. Of course, there, the curiosity factor isn't in play.

I also pointed out that what I told The Master was for The Master's own caution and information, not to embarass or degrade the monkey. I made a judgment call to make certain information shared on a need-to-know basis, and the *only* reason it became a problem was because the monkey asked (and because the monkey noticed his "flogging" entry was up on-screen earlier). Otherwise I have every confidence that the information passed would have been handled with discretion and savoir-faire, and that it will not affect the severity or intensity of play, simply the case of "when I say back off and let me handle it, I mean it".

---

On a related note, I have the desire to post that, yes, I *am* sending the Monkey home for an indeterminate period of time. I will give some, but not all, of my reasons for doing so here:

1. The monkey has business to take care of back there. Everything from returning library books to maxing out prescriptions, and making plans to change doctors. I need to know that she can be trusted to do so.
2. I need to see that she can keep to standing orders even if left alone.
3. I want her decision to join this house, and under what terms, to be a decision made not-under-duress (i.e. while she is here).
4. I need some time to prepare for her return, in more than one way (for example, clearing a day or two of my work schedule to be clear to handle her).
5. I need her to be ready for what this entails. I am not unwilling to rule out that to return here, she may need to be ready to accept a collar (other than the training one from petco she wears now). She has asserted that she wanted to know me for at least a year before accepting such...which would mean she'd be deferred till June, or have to retract that desire. Much as this feels like Blackmail, moving her in with me, having her change her legal residence, is NOT a decision I take lightly.
6. Also in play is that while her home environment isn't the healthiest thing, they are family that she loves, and her visit time home will be limited thereafter.
7. Not in the least, because when I came down here, the initial plan was that she would be coming with me to help, as a guest, and to get me through the move with some sanity. It was always in the plan that she would "follow me" down AFTER I had established a more permanent residence (OUTSIDE this place), after her stuff was taken care of. The fact that she is in all online courses this semester is convenient, and had to do with another, longer-distance move that was imminent (cross-country), that I decided not to do. Ultimately though, while convenient, it changes nothing. While I, for logistical reasons, can take on a more permanent residence at this place; going from guest to rent-paying tenant "instantly", I want her to come down "anew" whenever the next time is, entering domain I've established for me. And for that, a sabbatical is necessary.
8. And finally, with respect to TMOTH and after the kindness and generosity he's already shown me at a moment's notice, I want her to be invited to live here, not slipped into the deal like a piece of my baggage. I want the question I ask of him, after MUCH discussion of the potential dynamic, to be "May she join us?", not "May she stay?" (I do not want the stigma of "Please mom, it followed me home!")

So much to do...

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.