[Originally written on April 6th 2021]
I don’t have one big thing to write about, this time – just a few little ideas that have been bouncing around my head. Enjoy!
I still keep thinking about what you said yesterday – our two seas acting as a perfect metaphor for this relationship. Because at times, I do feel like your opposite number – measured where you are immeasurable, controlled and restrained where you are wild and free.
But sometimes it’s more like I’m a man overboard – a sailor, adrift upon a sea of you. Floating helplessly, carried by the waves to wherever they will take me – unable to fight it or control even a single aspect of this primal force, simply surrounded and overcome by your desires. Eventually, inevitably, I would succumb, surrendering myself to your power, abandoning any control I still possessed. And when I finally make it back to shore – when your will has been enacted, your pleasure etched upon my heart – it’s all I can do to gaze out over your beauty and wait for when I can next get lost in you again.
You inspire me, you know. Again, much like the sea – I’d gladly tell stories of your majesty to anyone who’d listen! But also in general – when I walk, you make me want to go further, to find a stunning view that you’d enjoy. And when I’m in town, and I see a historic building, I imagine just sitting with you, hanging on your every word as you tell me the storied past of our surroundings. At the end of the day, I think you just make me want to be better, the best me I can be, for you. And I simply can’t imagine that without being in service to you. To be your property – to be your slave – to really, truly, live to serve – it holds me to a certain standard.
Everything I do seems to link back to you in some way – the places I go, the things I see, they all just serve to remind me of you. Even the most mundane things:
“Oh, this is the shirt I wore when I did that striptease!”
“Hey, that’s the place I went to get my puppy tag made up!”
“Isn’t that the bench I was sitting at when Charlotte called me a slut? No, wait, it was that one – and that one, and that one…”
You always seem to have residence in some corner of my mind, somewhere I don’t dare look lest I interrupt your dark magick rituals. Or perhaps it’s the other way around – perhaps I’M the one in the corner of my own mind, having already given you free reign over the majority of the available space. It all belongs to you, after all – I wouldn’t want to clutter up your property with my own feeble attempts at thought. It’s simply much better when you’re in control – no need to strain my poor little brain doing something it just wasn’t built for.
Which, now that I’m thinking about it, seems a little paradoxical, doesn’t it? Obviously I can’t think for myself – that’s just a simple fact, you’ve made that more than clear – but why does that mean that the hard work of thinking needs to be offloaded to you?
(It’s possible that only I consider thinking hard work, antithetical to my existence as it is – but that’s a story for another write-up.)
And so if I’m not thinking for myself, and neither are you… Perhaps it would be best for my mind to only have thoughts when deemed necessary by you. Whatever you need in the moment – a toy, a slave, a slutty little puppy – but once you’re finished with me, once your desires are sated, packed away again, like the object you made me.
Just something to think about. xoxo ❤