Service Slut

I had no idea what she looked like and I was very intimidated by her. I had always been told that no one should ever touch this sacred place, not even me. Fearing that I would touch myself by accident, I took extra care when I showered or changed my panties. What was this mysterious place that could elicit such tingly sensations? It wasn’t until I was in my late teens that I even took a peek. I laid back on my bed, with a mirror clasped tightly in my hand. I saw her in all her glory. She was just like I imagined. Neat and pretty. But I quickly put away the mirror. I felt shy looking at her. Like I was filthy for doing so. I touch her now (with permission from Mistress, of course). I began going commando so she could get fresh air. Lately, I’ve been letting her bush grow uncontrollably. I’m a huge fan of waxing. Shaving was never my favorite. I have never publicly admitted that it is presently a jungle down there. At first, I thought how very unladylike this was. But I’m actually very...

When I started to become aware of being submissive, I struggled a bit to accept that about myself. Part of why I had a difficult time coming to terms with it was because of the contradictory nature of my desires. This has now reared its head in regards to pet play. I was asked what kind of pet I saw myself as. The short answer: pup. The long answer: Its complicated. I was going to start with “I want to be” but the truth starts with admitting that “I am”. I might identify with a Cavalier King Charles Spaniel ’s or maybe a Lhasa Apso ’s characteristics. I want to be cherished. And I want to be a companion and feel Mistress pet my head. I want to be told I’m a good girl and be a prized possession. I want to wag my tail for her in excitement when she approaches me. I crave just laying at her feet and sighing with contentment. I want the excitement of being the cutest pup and the attention that comes with that. But then there are darker desires, the complicated part...

No, this isn’t a kinky post. But it is my life, my blog and I will write about whatever the fuck I want. I don’t want to ever have to talk about my mom in the past tense. But things won’t work that way and eventually that is what will happen. So for now I’d rather tell you all about her while I still have her. She loves orchids and how delicately beautiful they look. She regrets having kicked her cat out of bed because someone told her that sleeping with cats messes with your reproductive system. All she ever talks about is holding a kitten or a baby chick. If she could have anything to eat right now, it would be lasagna. She likes helping people and does everything possible to put everyone before herself. She is an eternal optimist and believes we need to see the positive in everything and everyone. She and I have been making tamales together since I was a kid. She taught me how to cross-stitch and sew when I was a kid. Her favorite story to tell about me is how when she was pregnan...

Holy moly, I love listening back to our episodes. This one is a gem.

I don’t typically feel like sharing what I have journaled to my Mistress. And even now I hesitate to copy and paste. I get anxious about opening up too much (thank you trust issues) and exposing myself to hurt or harsh comments. But this is me raw, uncensored and just so tired: Mistress: With the start of a new week, i'm trying not to think of all that is to come and that i must get done AND things i'd like to do: work stuff   my mom's CT scan attending Mistress Melissa's pain management class follow up appointment with the oncologist getting ready for the weekend trip taking time to clean up (there is a clear path from my bed to the bathroom and stuff on the floor around that) doing laundry and getting rid of clothes i'm not wearing anymore. re-ordering some medicines for my mom getting her some personal items, shoes, sweater for her dress, do her nails, pack her things for the weekend coordinate with ****** on our itinerary for the weekend make sure ...

Mistress sat calmly stroking it. The gleam in her eyes was indicative of being at ease. It purred and got comfortable in her loving arms. "It" was a pussy cat. Mistress looked down at him, he looked up at her. It was an exchange I was jealous of. I'm jealous of a pussy cat. I've made mention of wanting to explore animal play in the past and this urge hasn't faded. My wanting to explore this goes past anything I've ever experienced. As with most of my interests, there is a humiliation/degradation aspect to my hunger (but more on that later). The other side of that coin is wanting to feel owned fully and completely. There is a security that I crave in belonging to another. It is hard to accurately describe without making it sound like I want to be fully dependent on her. In our real lives, she and I face everyday issues in our personal lives independently of each other. Our relationship is getting stronger by the day though it is not without challenges. But that...

There is a relapse rate for those who get off their antidepressants. It's about 80%. But when you are flying high and everything looks peachy, it is quite easy to think you'll be the exception. Over the course of a few weeks, I've been off of that which made me a functioning adult. I felt secure with myself. It started with missing a few doses. Sometimes, if I knew I'd be drinking alcohol, I just consciously decided not to take it (this would happen more than I want to admit). Then I just thought, what the hell? I'll just stop. No point in continuing to take antidepressants sporadically. This decision came easily. The moment I didn't tell Mistress that I made this decision should have been the first sign that this would not end well. In retrospect, I can see red flags where I should have stopped and reassessed where my head was. I confused depression and frenzy quite often. Sometimes, I felt resentment toward Mistress because I felt her withholding her affec...