I went back over my posts for this week. I have spent a lot of time discussing my submission mindset. My focus constantly being on Master.
My vanilla friends and if you are reading my blog and are appalled knowing I’ve given up all control to a man, I hope you continue to read though you cringe like my writing partners do when I use the word Master or Sir. I tried to explain it’s a term of respect but an endearment as well. It’s okay you don’t understand.
Like my writing partners, I’m sure you believe I’ve lost my mind. Master and I have this conversation quite often, rather he reminds me that intelligent women are a pain in the butt.
Lol. I am well-educated. That isn’t the reason I am intelligent. It just means I decided to go to college. I am highly intelligent. A high IQ. I have almost total recall of something I have seen, read, heard. I become bored easily. Or I ponder over Master’s words, actions, tone of voice, etc. I analyze every piece of information that my brain receives.
While it aggravates Master to no end, I tell him, “Try living with it.”
Does my intelligence and analytical mind contribute to my slave mentality? I believe so.
I have a Master’s degree in English. I chose this field to become a writer and editor. It’s also because of my analytical mind, examining information given to me. I ask questions, am curious, needing to find answers, I push and push until the explanation I’ve received is satisfactory.
Only then do I set to work to tear it apart in my head. Taking the answer and dissecting it until the whole is torn back into parts. There I see the potential meaning, point, variables of the information given to me.
That usually gets me into trouble with Master. I’ll save that for another post.
My point. I am constantly thinking and analyzing 24/7. My mind never shuts off.
Master stated a few months ago, “If we could get you into “slave” mode, you would be able to turn off your mind, let it rest, in order to more fully enjoy your surroundings, soak in more sensations.”
Just a note. That hasn’t happened yet. I am a slave, sexually and in other ways. I will never fully be a slave. My mind won’t let me. Or I won’t allow myself to become a slave in every sense of the word.
I knew from an early age I was a submissive. Yet, during my marriage to my late husband, I discovered I needed more. I needed a stronger hand to take me out of my thoughts. To keep at bay those that infiltrate when I least expect it. To give up, even for short periods of time, all thought, all control, every inhibition to a man who could handle my deep need. To know worry and fear keeps those thoughts running rampant in my head as much as the desire to understand.
Along with intelligence is my strong will. I know exactly what I want. Master and I clash on this. He has said, “A good Dom can handle strong-willed natures. Use the submissive’s own natural drive to hasten her transformation to one of more compliance when it is necessary.”
Master works at that constantly. I really don’t try to misbehave. While I desire to be a slave, I fight it constantly. It’s fear of the unknown. Knowing my own desires and going after them without hesitation.
This morning I told Master, “It’s freeing to just obey, you.” I wish I could say I stopped thinking and just felt, doing his bidding today. I haven’t. But I put more effort into it.
“That’s progress,” Master stated.
This is who I am: submissive, slave, whore, slut, and the vanilla mother, daughter, sister, aunt, friend, etc.