Is happiness fragile?

I've been properly spoiled this last week. My boy came over here on Tuesday night, was in his office Wednesday, Thursday and Friday, AND is in his office Monday and Tuesday of this week (going back on Tuesday - tomorrow - night), so I've had the pleasure of his company for a whole week, including the weekend.

I'm going to feel disorientated this week as a result though! - he's normally away Monday and Tuesday (leaving Sunday night and returning Tuesday night), but this week we're doing things in a different order due to circumstances.

We had a very laid-back weekend, sleeping in, which was just what both of us needed. On Saturday, though, I did get him to dress up in my favourite outfit (my favourite on him, that is, not my fave for myself!) and when we walked down town, I put his collar and leash on him. I know he finds public stuff difficult but at some level wants and needs to do it - but I will always be careful because I know that there is a risk of him being seen by someone he later has to interact with in a work context. It doesn't matter for me, because my field of work isn't so 'personality-based' as his and largely it matters not a damn what I do in my free time.

It's only Monday and already I can't wait until Friday evening...

My slave has been saying that he wishes I would make more rules and a tighter structure. I already have a set of rules and have just instigated a set of 'tier 2' rules and am contemplating a 'tier 3' - these for times of higher protocol. And sometimes I doubt his ability to cope with strict rules - they are okay when they have become ingrained but I am trying to keep things at a pace he can cope with.

Irritation and guilt

I can't believe I haven't posted here for nearly two weeks. I really need to get better at keeping up with this thing!

Things have been going well since my slave got his cuffs. Far from pulling back, he seems to be moving forward. I was afraid that, after the novelty had worn off, he would become frightened by this tightening of my grip and move deeper into slavery. But no... he has more than accepted the cuffs, he has welcomed them. Even though they have been causing him pain - the fronts press on the tendons at the front of his ankles; he can't wear them for walking long distances; the next size up is far too big - he still loves them.

He is becoming pretty good at remembering and obeying all his rules, too (probably better than I am!), and has suggested that he put forward some more rules for consideration. Before he made this suggestion I had been thinking that I might draw up a 'second tier' of rules for him, stricter than the first, but only for certain times when I choose - e.g. I might decide to impose the second tier of rules for a weekend, a week, or even just one random day - or perhaps, in the future, even longer. I shared this idea with him, and am currently drafting the second tier. It's harder than I thought it would be, but it should be ready within the next couple of days.

I've been composing music, too, on my computer. I set myself certain deadlines, which I struggled to meet because I left it until late, but I did meet them, and as I suspected, needed the deadlines to motivate myself. I'm fairly pleased with the results - some of the tracks fall below what I'd been hoping for, but practice is good.

At the weekend we did some outdoor play - something I'm keen on but had only done once before (unless you count taking a transvestite on a leash for a walk). We played once on moors and once in woods. Trees are handy for tying people to. As yet I haven't done anything more imaginative than impact play, in the open air. Still, we have our whole lives ahead of us to experiment! I wish someone would invent a disposable biodegradable strap-on...!

When we were on the moors, Guineapig was lying on his front. I put our coats on the ground, but evidently there was some gap between them, and they didn't cover his front completely, nor the fronts of his legs, because the next day he was suffering from itching, which kept him awake pretty much all of two nights running. He got some anti-histamine tablets and calamine lotion (this Monday and Tuesday were his days not with me; I will be seeing him late tonight) but they are still itching. I don't know whether it was the coarse grass or insect bites; the reaction seems rather too 'allergic' just to be surface irritation caused by the grass. I could have kicked myself for not thinking of the possibility; I feel really bad now because I feel like I've allowed something bad to happen to my beloved item of property. I was responsible for him and I feel like I've let him down.

I took part in the play, which ran for four nights - the play itself was pretty dire (only two characters were really any good), but I enjoyed my run-on, run-off bikini-clad wig-wearing part. Tonight I'm attending a reading for the next one, but I can't be in it because the run clashes with my friend's wedding.

Me and Guineapig also had a couple of days in Glasgow, which I really enjoyed - it was my first visit to that city - and a day in Manchester last weeekend - I hadn't been there for years.

Permanent ankle cuffs

On Wednesday night I gave the slave his permanent ankle cuffs and we both signed the contract in our blood. It was a very moving time for both of us... I hadn't planned out any kind of 'ceremony'; I felt as though there should have been one for such a significant thing, but in the end the ceremony created itself.

The slave is over the moon with his permanent cuffs - and so am I!

It's not the appearance that makes me so happy about them, but it makes us feel closer - I know I can always feel like I am with him anyway, even when we're physically apart, but the cuffs just emphasise that. Strangely enough, they actually make me feel a lot more aware of my responsibility towards him, and more protective - I think because I have something physically around him... I really can't describe how it feels, except that it feels great. *big dippy grin*

I lay in bed on Wednesday morning and gave him the same number of strokes of the crop as his age in years, just for a laugh and because it feels decadent *grin*... but last night was particularly special as he actually asked me to cane him - rare from my slave, as he is not a masochist at all. Some people would regard that as 'topping from the bottom', but I love it when he asks for pain - it is so special to me. *another dippy grin*

Written on Tuesday 20th May

Okay… so the slave took back his statement about not being happy about me reading his mail. I knew he had nothing to hide anyway; it was just a matter of principle. But, of course, a slave can have no such rights.

He does trust me completely. I think that what swung it for him was the knowledge that I didn’t give a damn about him reading my mail. Maybe that sounds odd coming from a ‘Mistress’, but it’s the truth. To be frank, if I’m not happy about my future husband seeing my mail, I mean dammit, I wouldn’t be even considering marrying them! It’s a trust issue, simple as that. The way I see it, husband and wife should have no secrets (apart from birthday presents and the like!); they should be a team, should work ‘as one’.

Also, after a bit of thinking, I came to the conclusion that there’s absolutely no point in saying something if you’re not prepared to back it up with action. If I was to say, “I don’t mind you reading my emails”, but then throw a fit if whoever-it-was asked to see them, my words would be valueless! Similarly with snail mail or anything else on a principle like that.

Anyway, the slave now feels that things are more ‘equal’. I never intend anything to be ‘unequal’ in relationship terms… I don’t perceive owner and slave as being unequal, just different. Like male and female; different but equal – the principle is the same.

So I still feel he can sign the contract and receive my permanent cuffs.

We did the office move on Saturday, and crikey was it hard work! We both felt really physically tired afterwards and I think he is still feeling the effects. (I still feel tired, but my limbs aren’t aching any more.) We also got my/our new bed in place, with new mattress, covers and all. It’s great – I love it.

I’m in a play this week and have rehearsals every evening with the run starting on Wednesday and going through to Saturday night, so not getting a great deal of spare time. Guineapig was meant to be coming over after his meeting today, and I was hoping to get in a bit of ‘play’ before our contract-signing ceremony-thingie (no detailed planning done!), but it’s already half past three in the afternoon and he hasn’t left yet (it takes him about 1 – 1 ½ hours to get here). In a way that’s kind of lucky for me as I hadn’t planned out much play-wise (well, just started today to think about it, actually – involving rubber and chains and hood and gag and ear plugs and straitjacket…) but I’m also slightly disappointed, as we haven’t ‘played’ as such for ages, and it’s the one-year anniversary of our meeting today.

I’m sure we’ll get the chance to do something, anyway, and I’ve taken tomorrow off work – Guineapig will be in the office, but I can take the opportunity to work on my wedding dress surface pattern as well as various ‘other work’ stuffs. He was going to take the day off for some intensive incarceration, but his great-uncle passed away recently and the funeral is likely to be on Friday, and he can’t afford to take two days off work in a row. But I’ve decided I want the leisure time anyway, and it’ll be nice to spend his birthday with him even though we will both be working. Maybe I can distract him by chasing him around the office with my belt, or something…!

The office is lovely. It has one glass side, though – only ideal for play if you’re doing something exhibitionist and/or humiliating!

This could be the end

He can’t be my slave any more.

It makes me very sad to write that.

I had sent a copy of the contract to him, and he had agreed to it, although not signed as yet. One clause was that the slave had no right to privacy. Last night a letter arrived at my house, addressed to him. I opened it, and relayed the contents by text. Today he asked me why I had opened it. I explained, and asked if he had a problem with that. He said that he respected others’ privacy and expected the same back.

I can’t own someone with that attitude.

But also, and even more significantly for me because it has such an impact on the wider community (our family, friends etc.), I don’t know if I can marry someone with that attitude.

I have no interest in prying into his mail and opened it only for the practical reason that I could pass on the message. However, if the positions were reversed (as I am sure they will be, living together) I would have no problem with him opening my mail. In my view, husband’s and wife’s mail should be able to be treated the same, with either opening the other’s. I appreciate there are some couples this doesn’t work for, if for example one is getting confidential letters from a friend discussing their personal problems, but in our case this isn’t happening.

Can I marry him?

Less than 2 months to the date; less than a month to make up my mind. Only on Wednesday I was telling him that I had never had any doubts that I had made the right decision; now I am wondering.
This is a horrible, horrible feeling.

All work and no play

One thing I'm going to have to speak to Guineapig about is his way of responding to text requests. Yesterday morning I emailed him to ask him to take his ankle irons to the office, and in the evening I sent another email asking him to wear them for at least an hour at some point during the evening, if possible. I always make a point of including the 'if possible' clause, in case of circumstances I haven't foreseen, and trying to word my requests in such a way that he feels encouraged to respond to them, either to confirm all is okay, or to raise any problems there might be with fulfilling them.

However, I heard neither confirmation nor denial that this period of restraint would be okay, and had to send a couple of texts before getting the response that he would do it if possible, but clutter in the office (he's moving) made it difficult to move around. I responded that of course I wasn't expecting him to do it if there were safety hazards (I hadn't known about the clutter).

My point is that he could just have replied straight away about the clutter. For me, a far preferable response would have been, "I'm sorry but I'm not sure whether I can or not, because it's a bit hard to move around the office at the moment with all the boxes", or words to that effect. What I don't like is silence, because then I don't know what's going on. He's known me for long enough now; he knows I won't be mad with him or regard any issues he raises as an 'excuse'.

In my opinion, it's common politeness to respond, either to say it's being done or to question whether it's possible/advisable (especially if new information needs to be brought to light). The fact is, if I'm not treated like a Mistress, I won't behave like one. I'm not one of those Dom/mes who responds to indifference, bratting, disobedience or reluctance by tightening my grip and coming over all Mistressly. Quite the reverse: I can't be bothered with that kind of behaviour, and instead of dishing out discipline and taking a strict tone of voice, I'm most likely to shrug my shoulders and mentally turn away. As far as I'm concerned, if a slave doesn't want to be owned by me or to serve me, then that's their lookout.

Innocence and contracts

I take pleasure in such small, innocent things. *happy sigh* On Sunday the weather was glorious again, and myself and Guineapig and the dog went to the Malvern Hills and meandered about up there, enjoying the sun, the breeze and each other’s company. It really is gorgeous; the view is fantastic. An idyllic place to be on a fine weekend in May.

Next week it will be one year since we met, and I’ll be giving him his contract. The metal ankle cuffs that I ordered have arrived in the post, too. (They may be one size too small though – the shop advised me to try them, and they will replace them if he needs the next size up.)

I’ve sensed for a couple of months now that he’s become ready for a contract, and I did send him the draft last week to make sure that he’s happy with what he’s letting himself in for. It definitely feels like the right time to make that move, but of course the imminence of it is making me think. Not think again, just think.

I believe my slave to be a slave through and through – that is to say, as part of who he is, not something he role-plays or something he enjoys doing from time to time. I know that he believes it too (and has felt that way for 20 years, although admittedly I am his first owner, and feelings can change under the strong influence of reality). He wants his slavery to be acknowledged as part of his identity, and to be part of his lifestyle. I believe he is ready for this; ready to move deeper into slavery.

Yesterday night he asked me (by text) whether he could stop using the third person in emails and texts. Well, using the third person was something initiated by him, not something I have often asked for (I requested it once, for a week, as a ‘one-off’ discipline to focus his mind). It makes no difference to me, except that I think it’s nice to read in ‘signing-offs’ (‘your lowlife slut loves you’ and language of that nature), so I told him as much, reminded him that he initiated it, and said it would be fine not to use it.

I also asked him why he’d requested permission to drop it, and, interestingly, had to ask twice before getting an answer. The reason was that he felt we weren’t being natural, and that he needed to feel my love and felt third person was stopping that. I was surprised, because *I* wasn’t routinely addressing *him* in the third person (I occasionally say things like ‘hope my slave is okay’ or ‘how is my slut today?’, but they are the exception rather than the rule). But I can see where he is coming from; it limits his free expression to me, which is not something I want to do.

Had a mop chop today; nice and short! Wedding dress fitting tonight. Rolling eyes to heaven as I hate trying on clothes; it always makes me feel deformed.

Bonk holiday

A nice extended weekend due to the bank holiday on Monday! My slave came over to my place on the Friday night, meeting me out of theatre and walking me home. Sat on a bench outside and ate lousy chips and kebab meat, which somehow managed to feel good even though they were, well, lousy chips. Ahh, the simple joys in life!

We got up late on Saturday and meandered over to my home town for wedding ‘instruction’ and to put some flowers on my Dad’s grave. We also visited my mother, and went on a drive out to the wedding reception venue to check out some local B&Bs for the best man. It is out in the countryside and very pleasant, and the weather was good; more simple joys were had by all.

On the Sunday we visited my grandparents’ grave (in the city where I live) as well as getting up late AGAIN (a recurring theme at the moment, as we seem to be tired out most of the time, for various reasons!). Again it was a very domesticated sort of day, enlivened by Guineapig’s invented chicken korma. He enjoys cooking and is very good at it (I can cook alright, but I don’t have the flair for it that he does). It was a kind of joint effort in that I was involved, so to speak, but most of the brainwork was done by him – I can only successfully improvise when I’ve gone through the recipe at least once! It was unusual to say the least, but delicious. Food of the gods.

On bank holiday Monday we visited one of my aunts that Guineapig had previously only met for long enough to say “Hello” to (quite literally). She lives in the country as well, so we took the opportunity to take a walk in some woods. No play as there were people around, but great view from the top of the hill.

That evening I finally got the opportunity to give him the nine cane-strokes that were due to him for using the first person three times in a text message earlier in the week. Mmmm…

On Tuesday I was back at work, and Guineapig worked from my house now that I have wireless connectivity rather than take the drive into his office. We met up at lunch time for a picnic on the green, which was lovely. The bluebells and narcissi were out, the sun was shining – a perfect spring day, so rare in England but so characteristic, somehow, when it does happen. At the end of the day it was so nice to come home to the slave (in ankle irons, as I had ordered before leaving work) and help/watch him prepare dinner, before packing our bags and catching the London train.

I had a work meeting in London yesterday, so I thought I might as well travel there the night before, and the hotel room was paid for by work (they always get a double room regardless of whether there is only one person staying!). In fact, the hotel (Novotel) upgraded us to an executive room for no extra charge. It was high up with a great view over the city! Breakfast was included, too, and very nice it was. We both enjoy our breakfast!

Guineapig had taken advantage of the situation to fix up some work meetings of his own, so we both had a productive day. The weather was great again, though, and it was a pain to be stuck in a stuffy meeting room! However, we met up at around 3.30 and went to Fettered Pleasures and Honour, just to window shop/investigate, really, but I got him a pair of rubber shorts from Honour for only £30. I was well chuffed and am looking forward to having him wearing them in the office on hot days! Incidentally, today I also spotted a ‘novelty’ badge bearing the legend ‘Office Slut’ so I just had to get it for him!

I'm not the only one who is tired!

Guineapig didn't get up until about half past ten today! (None of that when he's living with me! *shock - horror*) I was up at 7 as usual for work... *martyred expression*

Today I drew up the full set of rules, which I will give him along with his contract on the anniversary of the day that we met. Yesterday I also ordered a set of eternity ankle cuffs for his birthday, but the people who run the store are on holiday until the 7th May so I don't expect them to arrive until after that (luckily I ordered well in advance). I'm slightly doubtful about the sizing, because his ankle circumference is exactly 9'' so I had to order the next size up which is 10 3/8'', which seems like it might be a bit on the big side - but we will see. 9'' is definitely too small so it's not like I had any other choice.

Tired

Gosh, I'm tired. Up at 6. Twas good to see the slave, though.

He even went out shopping after lunch to see if he could get a present for me, bless him - however, the rubber items we've both got our eyes on were rather too expensive. One day we will get them! (Although my 'wanted list' is very long...)

Boring day at work. Got rehearsal this evening, though. I'm in a play at the end of May, with a very tiny and unimportant but amusing role. The play is a 'comedy horror', and half way through there is a bizarre and quite complex chase sequence. I appear briefly twice in this sequence as a random character in a colourful bikini and high heels who runs onto the stage, screams and runs off again.

I get to wear a blonde wig! Haha. ;-)

I hardly have to do anything, but because the chase sequence is so carefully timed, everyone is relying on everyone else, so I have to turn up at every alternate rehearsal to enable it to be sorted out properly.

... and miles to go before I sleep.

I don't know why, but I've been getting unduly irritated by the amount of publicity around the Leibowitz photo of Miley Cyrus. She's 15, for crying out loud. That's the age of a young woman, not a child. I'm all for protecting young people, but the photo isn't revealing and is actually quite tasteful.

Still - moving swiftly on... (I'd never even heard of Miley Cyrus until yesterday, but that probably says more about me than about the TV show...)

Had another bad night - not as bad as the previous two, but *weird* dreams. Seriously.

Spent some time today working on a contract for the slave. I'd like to give it to him for his birthday, properly printed on some nice card. I know he'd love to have a contract - we talked about it right from the beginning - and he is ready for it now. I sense that the time is right, finally.

I'm also working on a set of 'General Orders' - a set of rules, which I can change at any time, or which can be changed subject to circumstances or respectful negotiation (always at my discretion, of course). I've cunningly included a clause in the contract binding the slave to obey these rules. *grin*

I'll be seeing him tonight - our usual routine is that he comes to my house on a Friday night and leaves on a Sunday night, and I travel to his office on a Wednesday evening, stay with him overnight and go straight back to work on Thursday morning. That can be subject to change, though - some weekends I go stay with him until Monday morning if we have something to do over in his neck of the woods. Getting up at 6 a.m. on Thursday mornings is a pain in the ass - to think I got up at 6 every day throughout my teenage years to go to secondary school!

First entry

I’ve decided to start this journal because there seem to be many ‘slave journals’ around, but very few owner or Mistress/Master journals. It’s quite common for a slave to be ordered to keep a journal, to enable their owner to arrive at a better understanding of them. I wanted to show the other side of the coin.

Also, writing things down is a good way of distilling thoughts and bringing a rational perspective to your life. Although I have ‘kink-aware’ friends that I trust, I don’t like to talk about my private thoughts and feelings to others, not least because they involve my slave, for whom I am responsible. He gave up all rights to any privacy when he became my slave, so it is my responsibility to safeguard that privacy as I see fit. Therefore, the anonymity of this journal allows Mistress to vent while still protecting her property! :-)

Throughout this journal I will use the phrase ‘M-type’ when referring to a Master or Mistress, rather than the more longwinded and awkward ‘Mistress/Master’.

Had a really bad night last night – couldn’t seem to sleep, and I don’t know why! I kept waking up with my ear squashed painfully against my pillow – weird! Guineapig had a restless night too, sitting up for hours doing brain puzzles and hardly getting any sleep. Sometimes he sleeps well, and at other times his brain tends to race and he just can’t settle.

We don’t live with each other yet – we are in the process of a gradual relocation, which will arrive at a milestone in a few weeks time when we move the office to my city. Guineapig owned his own business before we met; although technically all his property is now my property, I still delegate most of the running of the business to him, as he has the specialist knowledge. However, right from the start of our relationship he has always asked me about work-related strategies and decisions, and I take an active role in the business. This is what he does half-time; the other half of the time he works for another company. Being very independent by nature, he absolutely hates ‘working for a boss’. Not as odd as it sounds – many people (in fact I’m even prepared to hazard a guess and say the majority) who are ‘submissive’ in the D/s sense will only submit to one person.

His relocation will finally conclude in the middle of July. These arrangements suit me well, as it allows us to make the transition in a gradual way. I already have 24/7 ownership of him, a great deal of daily contact, and do not hesitate to make full use of him; nevertheless, living together will shift the dynamic. We both hope for a stricter framework in the not-too-distant future, but guineapig has a tendency to bite off more than he can chew, reminding me sometimes of a dog pulling hard at the leash! Myself, I’ve no liking for ‘rules’ for their own sake, but only when they help to achieve something, whether that be a concrete accomplishment or simply getting the slave into the desired headspace.

He’s also got a dodgy stomach at the moment, which he’s had for quite a while – a matter of months. This bothers me, as I want my property to be in good condition, and evidently something is wrong. He has made an appointment to be checked out, though, so all I can do is keep my fingers crossed at the moment.

Boy am I tired! Had quite a few bad nights recently and they’re catching up with me. =_=