topthemonkey | Entries tagged with shaving

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.

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.

This is everything, I suppose, that I expect from my slavegirl.
Standing Expectations:
Note: some of these are obvious.

* Not allowed to self-harm
* Not allowed to drink alcohol without asking
* Not allowed ice cream without asking or gelato or sorbet or frozen custard or frozen yogurt
* Not allowed to smoke (anything).
* Not allowed to call herself stupid, or say demeaning things of herself.
* Not allowed to be alone with X. (Mentioned in other entries).
* Not allowed to masturbate without permission.

* Expected to wear collar 24/7. Which is pretty easy since it's locked on.
* Expected to accept compliments graciously. I think this means without scowling/protesting/glowering
* Expected to lay out my clothing each morning. Or the night before.
* Expected to shower and eat a meal within an hour of waking.
* Expected always have water, medication, and a snack (like an energy bar) when we go out.
* Expected to get me off if asked. Does not have to be with the aid of an orifice.
* Expected (in general) to call me Sir.
* Expected to do laundry. Before the Top runs out of pants (this has happened several times).

Expectations We've played with (only apply if noted)

* Required to ask to leave my presence, unless ordered to do so. (Currently trying this).
* Required to ask to get into my bed.
* Required to shave body regularly.
* Required to wear uniform (skirt/shirt).
* Required to do schoolwork of various types. When school is in session.
* Required to sleep naked. Unless it's really cold and I ask not to, or I have a bleeding vagina. He likes to keep some distance between him and menstrual blood.

Expectations I'd like but which are not practical or which we wouldn't be happy with:

* Wake when I do, sleep when I do. (meds and different metabolisms)
* Sleep in your cage. (Back issues)
* No clothing except uniforms.
* No posessions except things I'd given you. Huh, he's never brought this one up before. I'm glad this is on the "not gonna happen" list because no way I'd be remotely comfortable giving up, say, my dead father's wedding ring or the blanket my aunt made me.

Expectations I'd like:

* Preparation of breakfast every morning. (loosely defined, this means coffee and something baked that I can take and run).
* Wear of some kind of cuff all the time.
* Waiting by the door when I get home (this *might* be easier with something like this)

Things only I can change:
* More Play Time
(to be added to in a bit).

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?

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]

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.

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.

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***

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.