Responsibility

As I mentioned earlier, I was involved in a discussion about responsibility, were I most of all realised that I was rather alone in my view of it. "Slaves must be responsible!" and "I get punished if I don't do what I'm supposed to, so I'm definitely responsible" was the gist of the answers.

For me, that's not how it works. I was also told several times that I meant something else than I did, that I meant authority maybe, or something else, not responsibility. But I meant exactly what I wrote (I honestly don't think the Swedish word "ansvar" and the English word "responsibility" is that far apart, the translation is rather straight forward).

The point, for me, is that Mistress stands between me and the rest of reality in a lot of cases. She has not only the power and the authority but the direct control. If I'm bad at something or isn't performing as I'm supposed to, she doesn't let me fail. She steps in and handles it, gives me whatever help and guidance I need, or rearrange the situation so that I don't have to deal with it. In either way the end result is that the real life consequences doesn't happen.

I might very well get a painful correction. But that's not the same thing as me being responsible, because that is not the real life consequences of the action. If I don't water the flowers and that's important to her, she will talk to me, motivate me, control me, correct me, punish me, remind me or whatever else she needs to do to get me to water them. She will not watch me fail and let me live with the consequence of her flowers being dead and her being disappointed.

Yesterday I wanted an egg to my coffee, put it on the stove, forgot about it and left the home. When I returned home my egg was a black mess and the apartment stank of burnt egg. When Mistress heard about it, she didn't say much, but the next morning she boiled me an egg. So that I wouldn't have to do it again.

When I forgot my meds the other morning, for the first time since I started taking them a couple of months ago, her reaction was pity, and then saying "it was a really stressfull morning - I'm sorry I didn't remind you to take them!".

And so on and so forth. I don't usually run the risk of failure, and that is what makes me feel not responsible. She will not let me fail - she will help me and make sure I can do what she wants me to do, because that's how she is. 

I don't have to worry about failing, not in life and not to her, because I'm hers and she wont let me. I might have to worry about a slap or a spanking, or stricter rules, but that's something completely different. In my situation being accountable to her is exactly why I'm not responsible for most things in my life.

(I used to be. I've let go of one thing at a time, the last bits I think was my relationship with my parents, my school work and parenting. Not until I could stand the idea of failing, of that belonging to her was more important to me than doing the right things, could I give those up. When I finally did, it was with a feeling of great relief. I have setbacks sometimes, and that always starts an argument and gets me in trouble. But usually I'm a good girl and doesn't make a fuss about it.)

Feet

Mistress had some work to do, especially since little S sounds suspiciously snivelly and she may have to be home tomorrow with a sick kid. So she's sitting in the sofa in the living room, and I sit between her, and we each have our laptops, even if mine has more fun things going on then hers.

And while she's working and completely focusing on the paper on her screen, her left foot is firmly, very firmly, planted all over my right one. That one is warm, the other one is a bit chilled. I'm sitting content and calm and keeps my self entertained, waiting for her to finish her job, and revelling in being owned by her.

Love, sandwiches and getting better

Sometimes I dare to think that maybe, just maybe, I'm getting a little bit better. It's the beginning of the fourth week in school, and so far I'm not behind in my work. I manage to tag along with the rest, and for now, I can picture myself managing full time this whole semester. I still have an easy option of going down to 75% in February if doesn't work out, but it would be great if I could do this, it really would. We'll see.

We've kept strict to the idea that going to school is all I'm supposed to be doing. Today, Mistress would really have needed to stay at her job past her usual hours because she was heading up a workshop with foreign visitors, and it would have been polite and proper to see them off before heading home. My father was supposed to come and have pizza with me and little S, but he cancelled on us in the last minute, and noone else was available. And it really only was a matter of an hour or so, of her coming home maybe six o'clock instead of five.

But she didn't. When we couldn't get anyone to keep me company, she left at her usual time and came home to help me, so that I wouldn't have to deal with making dinner and taking care of little S by myself for an hour.

I love her. I love her so much. And I'm so grateful not to be expected to do things that is hard on me. To be allowed to rest for a while, to for once live in a way that isn't to difficult for me, or wears me down.

But the best thing isn't when I get to rest, or don't have to do something that would make me tired. The best is the moments when I have a little bit more energy than expected, when my resources for once is greater than the demands I face, and I can go a little beyond what she expects. That is the best.

This morning I helped make her a sandwich to eat on the bus, because she was running late, and later she texted me and thanked me, saying that not only was I making her life richer, I was also helping her out and making it possible for her to hold an advanced job position in a different city and still have family. I almost cried. I so very much want to be an asset to her, something that makes her life brighter and better, and I'm so often afraid that I'm not.

I wish I could make her a thousand sandwiches. What I can do is obeying her, and loving her, and do every thing in my power to get better and healthier, and do what I need to do to stay healthy. I know she much prefers the healthy, happy me, even when that means that I'm in the couch while she does everything else, than me working to hard and getting depressed. But I long for the day when I have energy to spare - because then I'm going to spend it all on her.

Distractions...

I got into this discussion on FetLife about responsibility. I claim I have none, and was met with a chorus of voices calling me anything from "lazy" to "sock puppet" to accusing me of having an "inflated sense of entitlement". I went to bed, a lot of people across the globe wrote things, now I'm awake and should be studying, but have instead answered in the thread, and find myself checking it every five minutes to see if I've gotten any responses.

No. I'm going to take my non-responsible head and focus on the task at hand. I might not feel as if I'm responsible for handing in this written assignment, but I will most certainly suffer if it's not done. Therefore - back to the paper on Acceptance and Commitment Therapy after Bariathric Surgery that I'm supposed to be reading.

Beatings and fucking - the good stuff!

She beat me again and fucked me yesterday. I wasn't very receptive in the beginning, I honestly think it's the meds messing with my sex drive. She told me to lay on my stomach with a pillow shoved under me, and beat me with the tawse. I couldn't really lie still, and it wasn't nice, only hurtful. And then she said "I want you to stay her, and touch yourself. I'm going away for a while, and when I come back, I'll beat you some more." And then she left, and there I was.

It was wonderful, actually. It gave me time to think and relax and get into the mood, and when she came back a while later, it was easier for me. I was still not aroused, really, but more relaxed. And then suddenly, I thought that it didn't matter if I was turned on or not, that she didn't care, that my only job was to lay there. And that thought alone made it all loosen up, my lust returned, and I was suddenly all for it.

She went away for another while, with the same order, and when she returned, I was really really wet and longing for her. She beat me again, and ended with 30 really really hard ones. Afterwards she told me that she had been aiming for making me bleed again, and when she had succeeded, she finished it off with those last heavy strokes. Sometimes I'm pretty sure she's a sadist...

And afterwards she fucked me from behind until she came, and then allowed me to turn over and kept fucking me 'til I came too. And we were spent and close and happy.

Today I have some real soreness in one of my butt cheeks. I love it!

She's back

And now she's home again, and the centre of my world is returned. I love being aware of how awesome her body feels, how great she looks, how good it makes me feel to simply touch her and be near her.

Okay, then she's forced to herd and cater to and argue with little S for hours at the time, while I hide away in order to protect my poor head from the sheer racket of it all, and we hardly see each other and her voice gets curter and shriller for every minute, and I can hear the stress building up. And then I feel bad and my bad conscience rears its ugly head. I wish our lifes was a bit simpler. I so very much wish her life was a little bit simpler.

But then again, without us her life would be empty. I want to believe we both contribute to her existence, not only me but little S too. I think we do.

And it wont always be like this. I will be healthy again, and have more energy and be able to contribute more. And when I've graduated I'll be able to get a job and we'll have more money, and there's a lot to say for throwing money at problems and make them go away. And little S do gets easier the more she grows. Her personality wont change, I suspect, but her ability to control impulses and understand instructions increases, which makes everything easier.

And almost the first thing Mistress did when she got home was to take her belt out of the loops of her jeans and beat me with it. And then she fucked me. I think we're in an okay place, in the big scheme of things.

But now I'm hoping she'll do it again soon.

Home alone

Mistress is out of town for a couple of days, at a work-conference. Before she left, she beat me with the rattan until I bled. There were little pink dots on the rattan. (I wouldn't have thought they would be pink, but they were. I guess they're probably brown by now.)

I miss her like crazy. I slept badly for the first time in months this night. I miss her.

But I'm glad she gets a few nights away, and a break from everything back home. I sincerely think she needs some time away so she'll miss us a little.

A reflection about punishment

I just got to think about punishment. We do have "punishment dynamic", that is, Mistress punishes me if I break a rule. And I like that. I need that.

It's rather light punishments, though. Nothing compared to the things she does to me in play. It's more of a correction, a symbolic act, unpleasent but not excrucating. It's usually a slap to my face, of varying harshness, or maybe two or three. Sometimes it's something else, but she rarely hurts me.

I think part of it is making things clear for me. I don't have to worry, because if she doesn't like something she lets me know, first by setting up a rule about it and then by enforcing that rule. It usually takes me four or five times before I start doing things right - in some ways, I'm a slow learner. If she didn't punish me, I would feel bad and still keep doing it wrong, that would be way worse.

But then again, if she uses harsh punishment, things that in itself would make me sorry I misbehaved, if she used severe beatings or humiliation, it would take energy from me. I don't have that to spare, and neither does she. She doesn't want me to suffer or feel bad about myself, she just wants me to behave and obey her. Beat me up she can do in better ways than as punishment.

I fantasize about it though, sometimes. About harsh punishment, about torment and torture. But I think for me there's a problem with combining that type of activities with for-real failures on my part. It hurts my self-esteem, and makes my life harder, and I really don't need that. I'm glad she saves the torment and torture for the times when she simply wants to do such things to me, and not for when I've messed up.