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*
Showing posts with label contract. Show all posts
Showing posts with label contract. Show all posts
Friday, 23 May 2008
Tuesday, 13 May 2008
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.
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.
Wednesday, 30 April 2008
... 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!
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!
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