Service Slut

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...

I am 5'4 and my current weight is 183 lbs. There. I said it. A lot of the time, I hate how I look. Seeing my body change like this has done a number to my self-esteem. I could get on my beloved soap box and rant about how the media pushes the image of beauty as being skinny. But I've got a different perspective to point out. I've been guilty of the eye rolling when a girl that is more slender than me complains of her weight. Like a twisted version of an upward comparison. How could it be that your weight excludes you from those who are allowed to complain about it? I am not morbidly obese. And I will never be so thin that my rib cage is visible. But this does not mean that I am not allowed to bitch about it. I want to make a conscious effort to put an end to the eye-rolling of others' weight.

The collar I wear does not belong to me. It belongs to Mistress. I’ve received comments on how pretty it is but I feel weird saying “thank you” seeing as I did not pick it out. It took me about a week to become accustomed to wearing it 24/7. I cannot remove it even if I wanted to do, a pink lock ensures that. I’m a simple girl. I don’t wear jewelry or make-up if I can help it. So this is very new to me. Nerves hit my breathing abilities hard my first day at work with it on. What would people say? Was I about to invest in a wealth of scarves? I felt like I was opening myself to nonconsensual humiliation. I was scared. I found myself having crazy daydreams in which a large, industrial-sized magnet dragged me away by the neck. Or other dreams in which for medical reasons, I would need to have it removed only to discover that the key had been lost or Mistress was nowhere to be found to unlock it. Go ahead, laugh. I’ve never worn something like this before. The physicality of getting used...

From the moment I became involved with Miss H, I wondered how I would describe my relationship status to the vanilla people in my life. “Hey, so you know that chick I’m always gushing about? Yea, she beats me from time to time. Its awesome!” “Wait, you mean ‘Mistress’ isn’t synonymous with ‘babe’ or ‘sweetie?’” “Oh, those bruises? Sucks they didn’t last longer.” I was speaking to the only person in my family that knows about the nature of my relationship with Miss H. I spoke of the upcoming play party and probably rambled on about how giddy Miss H makes me. This person stopped me and said, “Wait. Is this really what you want?” She went on to ask me of the long-term implications of our kind of relationship and I started to regret ever saying anything. Fucking buzz-kill. It occurred to me that I cannot gush to the same people in the same way I would over any crush. Whether it be about Miss H or to whomever my journey takes me to, I will always have to filter out the dirty kinky deta...

I am patient. I am polite. BUT FUCK WAS I GOING NUTS LAST WEEK. It was like a spark was ignited. I felt like a bitch in heat, wanting to hump anything and everything. Except it wasn’t so much driven by my pudenda than my mind. Within the span of a week, I experienced many “firsts”. Public play, public semi-nudity, consensual impact play, ooh those vampire gloves, loving caresses, mummification (still some residual ecstasy from that) and just the overwhelming emotions related to it all. I couldn’t and still can’t get enough. I want it all. This crazy, hypnotic-like trance was seriously impairing my ability to work and think straight. Everything I saw or did lead my thoughts to naughty, kinky things. I could not stop thinking of what experiences I could have next and how soon they could happen. Ravenous would be the best way to describe what I felt. I think I must have been dirty tweeting more than usual that day. Luckily I was also chatting with Gemini . I was very pouty and whiny so I...

Lady D. Oh Lady D. She is sweetness and mischief rolled up into hot. I turn into a puddle when she smiles at me. I credit this woman with pulling me out of my rut. (You know, that rut in which you haven’t crushed hard on someone for QUITE a while.) Because life is the way she is, Lady D is strictly hetero so that crush was slowly, well, crushed. It took us a bit but we made it back to friend status but she’s always going to be that platonic crush and I certainly hope that is okay with her. So when she asked me to come over to clean her kitchen, I was beyond delighted! I texted her to ask if she wanted me to work on anything specific. My slight smile turned into a grin when she responded that I should check my e-mail. “Instructions”, read the subject line. Fuck, I didn’t know if she knew that would turn me on but it sure did. I thrive on instructions, rules and formality. It is the Emily Post in me. She gave me instructions on what she wanted done and ended her message with “I should b...

Anyone that knows me VERY personally, knows that I have delayed reactions to everything. Arguments, profound experiences, road trips, you name it. So when Miss H asked me how I felt after playing on Saturday (that very night before we parted ways), I broke her cardinal rule and may have said a little white lie. My daytime activities were filled with familial time and minor errands. During this time, I struggled to relax and be in the present. No, my being was very focused on the day coming to a close so I could feel Miss H’s hands in places she had never touched before. Places I craved her touch. The day came and went. I am a ritualistic person so getting ready to go out is an event. This was no different. I laid out my dainty fishnet stockings and a modest black slip dress and probably took the longest shower in existence. I imagined ridding myself of all negative and worrisome energy, watching it all go down the drain. I wanted to be a blank slate for Miss H. A blank slate on which ...

After lengthy consideration, I made the decision to play in public this weekend. With who you may ask? Miss H, that’s who. Gosh, this woman intrigues me so much and I cannot for the life of me figure out why. Even now, as I type this, I sit here wondering how I came to this decision. A decision which seemed to have required a lot of steps but ended up being painless. As many people will assert, the internet and her valuable search engines are the portal through which many find their way into the kinky side of the pool. For yours truly, this is a fact. I didn’t know anyone and had no way of making contact with others who had similar urges. God forbid I actually TALK about it with someone! Eek! I started reading a lot. Not just informational items about BDSM but also TONS of erotica. There was nights I would stay up reading and imagining myself in the role of the submissive or slave in the tale I was reading. Next thing I knew, the sun had already risen. Never in my wildest dreams did ...

As a side note, I’m writing this as I sit in my old bedroom with images of Catholic saints staring down at me. Hence the inspiration for this post. Our Lady of Perpetual Succour is right next to me… :-/ It has been said many times: for every kink out there, someone enjoys it. I think this phrase is used to express the sentiment that there are boundless ideas of fetishes. Recently CBS released a slideshow entitled “ 15 Strangest Sexual Fetishes ” and as I saw it make the rounds on Twitter, I saw a few comment on how it certainly wasn’t as risqué as the title implies. Truthfully, I didn’t find them to be strange at all. A while back, I expressed my interest in humiliation. Being the novice that I am, I wanted to tread lightly with just how I would go about describing this desire to someone. So I went in search of answers on the oh-so-many forums on FetLife ( here is the thread in case you are interested ). I got such varied responses and I decided that everyone was right in different w...

A couple of weeks ago, I was talking to someone who expressed their preference for only playing with bottoms with experience. When I asked for clarification, I was told that playing with someone who was at the beginning of their journey was troublesome and time-consuming, basically no fun. I took this in and thought to myself, “I wonder if most people feel this way?” I started feeling even more metaphorically fucked than before. Other than experiences behind closed doors with lovers, I wear that label of a novice. If people (in general) do not want to take the time to play with someone new, how was I ever to gain any experience? I hardly equate watching and participating as experience. In what I have learned thus far (as well as what I want), this is kind of outlook on play partners is not really conducive to someone who looking for something a bit more serious or who wants to gain experience. While I do want a relationship, right now I want to learn as much as I can about my desires...