Inventory

On Friday, Sir and i are heading off to our annual BDSM summer camp. So today i have been busy getting organised - making lists, pulling out fet wear (explanation to follow), toys, regular clothes and on and on we go.

The thing about the fet wear - before i get too carried away - in the past i have never brought fet clothes. We were camping and somehow fet clothes just didn't seem to fit in with rain boots and jeans and sweaters and tents and sleeping bags.... i figured my fet wear was my "birthday suit".

This year (after 2 two very wet VERY cold years) Sir booked us a room in a local B&B for the nights. (see me do the dance of joy!!) And last year i noticed that a lot of the submissives changed into fet clothing at least for the formal dinner on Saturday evening. A couple of years ago one of the submissives modeled her entire wardrobe of fet clothing - i swear she did nothing but put on an outfit - strut her stuff - change and strut her stuff some more. i never once saw her up on a cross or over a spanking bench....... but i digress. Last year i pitched in and helped get all the Friday night dishes washed....... and swore i should have brought my apron. So this morning that was the first thing i brought out, my maid's apron ... all frilly and white and very see-through. Something Sir had me make - ohhhhhhhhhh - about 8 years ago for a tea some Dominant was hosting and i was serving at. Then i found one of my corsets (thank god it fits again!!) and a dress with collar and chains, and a black silk shirt and panties with chains. i am not entirely sure i will wear all or any of the clothing ... but i am bringing it with me this year!!

Then i went downstairs and started to pull out toys that i thought Sir might like to bring with us. i am never entirely sure what toys He wants, or what toys He will crave. Sometimes i think i should just pack the whole damn lot and be on the safe side. However, as we are crossing the border, and i do have to disguise most of the toys (rolling eyes - ever tried to disguise a flogger??) i am picking and chosing.

Having all the toys laid out in the living room got me to thinking. Swan - over on the Heron Clan site - has, from time to time, done a review of certain toys. Her latest edition was depicting their floggers. i thought she had a great idea to review toys, and decided to follow suit. Picking a toy and writing a review about it.

So starting tomorrow i will review a flogger a day (the ones going to camp that is),

On Friday i have a post on BDSM versus Abuse scheduled to go up..... cause that whole bit about Sir being called an Abuser is still sticking in my craw. And hopefully i will get enough posts scheduled to take you all through till at least Sunday - and i will be back on Monday with a review of our adventures at camp. (how's that sound?? )

Aren't i just so organised??!!

It just fits

Yesterday obviously my words were muddled and most seemed to come away with a muddied idea of what i was trying to say.................

so i will make myself perfectly clear here today .. now.

i have no doubt as to who i am or what i am. and i am very happy with my place in the grand scheme of things.

i am a masochist. why i am a masochist - who knows and who cares - certainly not me.

When i was very young.... i used to play cowboys and indians in the forest with my friends.. i always volunteered to be the indian.. i always made sure i got caught.. i always asked / begged to be tied up.. and i always ALWAYS complained they didn't tie me tight enough.. i would tug on the ropes and love the feel of them cutting into my skin.

When i became too old to play at kid games.. i discovered quite by accident that cutting was a wonderful game to play by myself. i can still see myself sitting in my bedroom with razor blade held ever so gently in my hand.. can still see myself carving patterns into my arms and legs......... which of course drove a whole mess of people nuts - my parents included. And they never got it.. never once did they get it.. i didn't do it to "hurt myself" i did it to bring on delicious pain. It didn't scare me .. i wasn't down or suicidal or deeply depressed when i did it.. i did it much the same way that others masturbate.. it made me feel good !!!

i learned quickly to stop cutting as it appeared to be socially unacceptable behaviour - something i didn't quite understand.. it felt right to me??!!!

i said i cut the way some people masturbated - to feel good. i didn't masturbate - honest to god, cross my heart and hope to die - until long after i was married. AND i remember feeling like i was doing something really wrong and would go to hell for doing it. Definitely NOT the feelings that i got from cutting. weird eh??

And then i discovered the whole world - wonderful world - of BDSM.. where folks actually hurt other folks and no one thought it wrong. And trust me i wanted me some of THAT.

And i got it.

And it felt just like puzzle pieces coming together in a perfect fit.

i am truly blessed that i have found a Sir who is mostly Sadist (with a good measure of GOS - good old Sir - thrown in )

So for those of you out there.. and you know who you are.. that screamed ABUSE after my (and Sir's last posting) you don't know of what you speak.

i am a masochist
Sir is a Sadist
and we fit together perfectly.

Post card from the edge..

i am sitting out here under the red umbrella in my secret garden... swaddled by tall bushes and fencing and feeling very much on the edge of things... (not in a bad way actually)

After some serious pain this weekend... some serious beatings.. even one last one last evening... the brain functions differently than normal.. don't ask me why.. it probably has to do with the adrenalin and endorphins and all the other chemicals that are shot through the system....banging into the brain cells.. shorting out ... small sparks flying..

Last night i was doing something in the kitchen... feeling disjointed and a bit out of body.. and i got to thinking how seriously scewered this is .. to offer up one's ass for a beating.. AND enjoy it... i was thinking how scewered i am.... and then i kinda shook my head and thought nope... for me this feels good.. just as it is.. there is no reason (i can find) behind the need for pain... and once the withdrawals are gone i can actually walk away from it (have done it before so i know of what i speak) It is a kind of addiction..but one i can control... i am strong within myself.. know who i am.. know where i come from.. know the skeletons rattling in my darkest deepest cupboard..

BUT then i got to thinking about all the ones i have met over the years that don't have their shit together (or didn't when i met them) ... and they just sort of .. kind of .. melted into 3 different types... 3 personalities i can't get out of my mind..

Butterfly - i will call her - was the most beautiful submissive i have ever met.. an older woman - who when she walked into a room all heads turned to look. Straight back .. head held high... proud independent woman wrapped in a corset with black leather collar and cuffs.. she always took my breath away.

Then .. when i got to know her.. saw her go off with men she didn't know.. to motels where all manner of terrible things happened.. saw the bruising the cuts the marks.. listened to her tearful tales.. and then the... "i only wanted them to love me" plea at the end...

And i realized she wasn't nearly so tall or proud or self assured or independent....

And slut .. i will call her that.. because .. in her own way she was a slut... i can see her tightly corseted .. crawling on all 4's around a public club.. crop in her mouth. . begging anyone .. man or woman to take the crop and beat her... she was loud and brassy and bold and scared the living daylights out of me.. and yet she and i became friends for a while..... and she was searching for a Sadist who would "do it" for her.. give her enough pain to take whatever demons haunted her dreams away........... she would do dope to heighten the need and the experience and mix with alcohol and desperately search for someone to make her real... make her feel important.. worthy..
the last time i saw her .. she was still figuratively crawling around.. bare ass in the air.. crop in her mouth.. still searching....

And then the lost soul.... i call her that because she is so lost... lost in herself and in the world around her.. afraid of her shadow.... a wallflower who quakes when someone speaks to her... and yet.. who has the nerve.. the audacity to show up at someone's house.. drop her drawers and take a beating.. she needs to be punished for some feeling she has had.. some evil she imagines... some self loathing... she plays the weak helpless female (and who knows perhaps she is) but this weak female has claws.. and god help you if she shows those claws..
This burning need to be punished drives her onward.. and outward.. seeking.. but not finding release and forgiveness..

And i sit out here under the red umbrella .. swaddled from the world.. and wonder do others see me in one of those categories.. do they wonder about my driving need for pain.. for marks.. for blood ... do they wonder what drives me???

Today i wonder .. a little bit.. what drives me....

as i sit on the edge and write a postcard..........

Pure Evil

It is 42 inches long...




It is 1/2 inch in diameter at the tip...


It has a beautiful braided handle..


It is called sjambok

AND


It is pure evil...

Yesterday Sir gave me over the duration of the day 8 sessions with the sjambok.. one for each year.

At one point He showed me a picture of the stripes across my ass and it looked to me like a lined exercise book from school... and i quipped something about writing neatly on the lines..



Originally Sir had seen the sjambok on a blog that we both read regularly. He was drooling over it. So i went looking for one .. and obviously found Him one...

The history of the sjambok is.........
"In Africa, the Sjambok (Sham-Bawk) is a cattle prod, a whip, a riding crop and a means of self-protection. Unlike most western style whips, the Sjambok is not plaited from thin leather thongs. Instead, it is carved whole out of very thick Hippopotamus hide. Its considerable reach, lightning speed and devastating impact have built it quite a reputation as a sure defense against deadly snakes. Since the Sjambok is swung like a rod or stick and not cracked like a conventional western style whip, the weight, speed and flexibility of the Sjambok’s lash does all the work and little skill is required to wield it effectively. "

The sjambok that i purchased for Sir is made from a thick, beefy lash, injection molded from polypropylene and equipped with a soft comfortable Kraton handle.

All i know.... call it sjambok .. call it a whip... i call it "pure evil"

8

8th year....... 8 strokes...carved 8

sjambok - my gift to Sir

more to follow i promise...

ps.........Sir says it better here .... His brain is more focused than mine.. (cheeky grin)