Frightening, isn’t it?
A few months back kaya talked about the color blue. Do y’all remember that blog? C’mon, I know you all read her. Anyhow. I totally “got” that post because it happened in my life, too.
Once upon a time my favorite color was red. Deep, blood red.
I had a red velvet skirt and a red vinyl dress. Red shirts. Red shoes. Red nails. Red hair. I used red skins and red wallpaper on my computer. Red patent boots. Red in one of my collars.
Red ink.
Red. Red. Red.
No red lipstick cuz it makes my crooked lip look stupid but if it weren’t for that I’d have worn nothing but red lipstick.
I still love red. I see red things and they pull me in, draw my eye, make me instantly think of things sensual and dark.
But my favorite damned color is pink.
Until about four or five years ago I’d never worn pink. I mean, seriously. I think I owned one, single pink item in my entire teen and adult life up until recently.
And then Taylor made the comment after about a year or so together that he’d like to see me with pink in my hair.
He bought me pink, cotton candy scented body spray.
He likes glossy pink lipstick and lets me know it every time I have it on by blatantly staring at my mouth and getting rock hard inside his jeans.
Needless to say pink is now my favorite color.
Pink hair a couple times a year, pink phones, pink clothes, pink purses, pink lipstick, pink nails.
I swear to gods it’s baffling in the extreme.
Maybe I used to reject pink because it was so “girly” and I was never a girly girl. Maybe Taylor’s taught me to embrace the feminine side of myself.
Or maybe I’m brainwashed.
Because, you know, once pon a time he also told me that I wasn’t allowed to leave. That it was against the rules.
We both sort of laughed about it. Strange laughter.
Because, you see, he never really explained it. Never really had to.
I always said, when it came up, that of course I could leave and that I would leave if he were harming either myself or my son but that to leave would be to utterly, completely and absolutely end our relationship. That there would be no going back if I left. Leaving meant done. Period. And so, of course, I wouldn’t unless some serious shit were going down because I didn’t want to lose the relationship.
I guess, when I thought about it, I told myself that not allowing me to leave, making it against the rules, was a way to ensure I was always willing to work – and work hard – to make us work.
But…
The thing is…
I can’t leave.
It’s not that I’m not allowed to.
I can’t.
Granted, I’ve had little motivation to leave. I’m happy. Even when we struggle I’m happier than I”ve ever been in my life. Even when he’s making me miserable I’m happy because I’m a damned masochist and sometimes being miserable is exactly what I need.
Crazy, I know, but it’s true.
But I realized awhile ago that even if I had a reason to I can no longer leave.
I’d love to be a really good person and say if he were to harm my son – or if our relationship was harming my son – I’d leave. But, yanno, my son has a perfectly good dad in California who would likely be happy not to have to pay support any more if I sent said kid out to Cali.
Does that make me a horrible mother?
I’d be protecting him from harm, after all.
It doesn’t really matter. Taylor’s not likely to harm Colin and, good mother or bad, I would send him away from harm before I’d leave Taylor.
Same goes for myself.
If the way we are began to harm me…
It still wouldn’t make me leave.
I would die a bit inside every day. I would cease to be the me he needs me to be and he’d likely leave me but I wouldn’t leave him.
I can’t.
He said I’m not allowed and that has worked it’s way into my mind and created a place where I simply cannot.
I don’t know what that means or why it strikes me as so profound today.
I don’t know if the absolute, full realization of the depths of my dependence upon him changes anything. I don’t know if it will smooth my way in the future or send me along a rocky, twisting goat path.
But I know it’s true. It’s absolute. Ambiguous.
I cannot leave.
Frightening, isn’t it?
I’m a masochist, I totally get everything you said about needing the pain and needing to feel miserable inside sometimes. I even got the “not being aloud to leave” part, but what I don’t get is picking a man over your own child. Not saying Taylor would ever abuse him, but to just send your son away while you choose to stay with his abuser is absurd to me. Some things go beyond being a sub,slave or whatever and mother is one of them. I’m not saying you’re a bad mom, I’m just saying that as a mom myself, there is no way I would ever choose Daddy over my kids for any reason and he’s even their biological father. Mom trumps slave. Of course, these are only my opinions and they don’t mean much except you have a comment box and I used it. lol
Rose
One of the things I like so much about you is that you say the hard honest shit.
I’ve wondered about this myself & finally decided not to think about it because it didn’t matter — my Master is wonderful to my kids.
You will actually look the big scary questions in the face & be honest with yourself. That’s pretty fucking ballsy.
I think part of it is knowing my son is getting older. He’ll be fifteen in a matter of days. He’s already planning to go to college in either Cali or Florida.
And, yeah, I know deep in my heart Taylor wouldn’t abuse him.
Maybe that makes it easier to have let go to this extent.
Or maybe I”m justifying something that’s horrid.
Hopefully we’ll never find out.
I just recently started reading you blog and wanted to just say that I’m glad I stumbled upon it, through Kaya’s blog. I love the way you write and how open you are. I actually find myself nodding along to a lot of what you have to say.
Thank you, Kitten! I read your blog as well as your master’s. In fact, I left him a message the other day on the picture page, crying for a picture of you smiling. :)
That was some powerful shit.
That’s the only thing I can say to sum up your post.
That, and your writing is wonderful.
Uh…Yeah Powerful shit is right.
That is a very honest realization. I thought I would share my story with you(at least a part of it).
I met Sir about 2 years ago and fell for Him very quickly. Within six months I was collared and it was wonderful. When time came for me to have to move, We decided to live together. My son has ADHD and behavior issues from having a working single mom and too many daycares. His kids (2boys) are quite well behaved. As time went on and mine didn’t blend with His despite our efforts, even with counseling for all 3, He asked me to leave(we discussed it and agreed together is probably more correct, but not how it felt, yanno?). It has been only 5 months since I moved out and everyday I still mourn for the perfect life I had finally found with Sir. But, our families just would not blend and in the end the kids won. We did what was best for them. We are still together somewhat and I am still collared, but because our kids are so young we split our homes. Even though I chose my son over Sir, I still wonder sometimes if I should have stayed – made other arrangements for the kids, etc. So I applaud you for your honest realization, in the deep places in my mind, late at night, I sometimes wish sometimes that the option was there for me.
:)
Just being honest
CARRIE ANN,
I HAVE BEEN READING YOU FOR AWHILE NOW, AND AS I STATED IN A COMMENT TO ANOTHER BLOG, I FIND YOU INTELLIGENT AND THOUGHT PROVOKING. I ENJOY READING YOUR THOUGHTS AND I THANK YOU FOR ALLOWING YOUR READERS SOME INSIGHT INTO YOUR LIFE..
HUGS,
HISFLOWER
*giggles* It’s always about the smiles. ;-) Trust me you’re not the first to ask. I think Master did a post of me smiling not to long ago. It would be under the “Slave Pictures” category.
What needs to be understood here, is the fact that from day one, I have done what’s best for my family. Even though what I want, what I decide, what makes me happy is the priority for those in my home, I put the good of my family first.
This is what has allowed us the room for her to become that dependant on me. For my rule that she is not allowed to leave to not only be a very real rule, but for it to grow as intended and leave her quite literally unable to leave.
I am not a real big fan of mind control. I do not want a mindless automaton who simply yeilds out of rote. Artificial intelligence has no apeal to me. However I do enjoy bending her. Twisting molding and changing her. Making her the person I want whether she wants to be her or not.
So yes I got in her head, some things small and inconsequencial in life. Ohers life changing. But mostly I’ve left her who she was when I found her.
Is she brainwashed? Well…in a few small ways, most certainly. But for the most part I’ve left her unchanged after all I did fall in love with her the way she was. It’s sort of like what a guy does when he buys a car or better yet a motorcycle. He adds a few things, changes a few things to make it his own, to make it suit him better.
“She’s not allowed to leave” I said to someone we knew while standing in a bar. “I’m not?” she asked with a small laugh and a grin.” Nope” I flash my crooked smile and flash her the dazzling eyes. ” Hmm,ok.” she says. The conversation resumes and conciously she doesn’t give much thought, she thinks it a joke. For a long time her concious mind holds it as a joke.
It’s crept up from the depths of her mind now, where it settled nice and deep, real solid and feeling very much at home. She now knows it is no joke. It was never a joke.
It’s fun to watch her, to see her discover herseelf and the ways I’ve changed her, changed her so well, so smoothly that she never got a chance to fight it, never had the oportunity to think she should fight it. Where does the ease come from? How was it so easy, to just with a few words here and there to alter her? To so completley nail her feet to my floor?
She blongs to me. I walked into her life, and was the man she needed. It wasn’t the way I weild a flogger, it was’t that I made her enjoy the single tail the very first time we were together even though she hated them, in fact it was one of her limits. It wasn’t that I fucked her like no other man could ever come close to, though that helped..a lot…It was being the man she needed. it was doing the things that made her happy, that got her off that made her life worth living.
I made her house a home. I made it my home, and I made it comfortable for her to live in.
There are other things, other little twists and bends that I have made in who she is, things she still isn’t aware of, and I’m not going to tell what they are, I like her not knowing and I like watching her realizing them for herself. I love her, more than have ever loved in my life, or ever will. She is mine, her mind, her body, her heart, her life, all belong to me. And that, my friends is perfection. You want to be the perfect slave, the perfct submissive the perfect what the fuck ever. Belong to your man, be his let him truly be all that you need. The rest will work itself out, hell the rest will cease to matter.
This world gets harder and harder to survive every single day, but as long as she belongs to me, I am invincible.
I often say that I am who and what I am no matter who I may or may not be with. For the most part that’s true. But I will say this much, I don’t much care for the person I would be without her.
I am the very axis of her existence. There is no doubt about it.