Resolutions, Day 3

Hi! Day three of my New Year’s Resolution blog posts, and I already have no idea what I’m going to write. Still, I promised I’d do it, and I promised to make this one slutty, so… Let’s see what we can come up with, shall we?

I mentioned to somebody on Twitter today that I’d had a pretty quiet day, and not really done anything particularly subby. But then it occurred to me that I was still wearing my literal puppy collar around my neck, complete with my owner’s tag showing who I belong to. It also occurred to me that I had spent all day – to quote Mistress Charlotte’s House Rules – taking my cold drinks from a bowl on the floor, like a lowly slave.

That, to most people, would be more – MUCH more – than enough to qualify as submissive behaviour. And, I mean, when I think about it, of course I’d agree. But that’s just the thing – I don’t really think about it anymore.

It’s barely even something that I have to make the conscious choice to do at this point! I put my collar on when I wake up, because I am the owned property of my Mistress. I pour my drinks into a bowl on the floor, because I am a lowly slave. There’s no questioning it, no deciding “hmm, yes I think I’ll do that” – it just sort of happens. Because it’s natural, at this point. That is to say, it’s in my nature, now.

And I kind of love it?

It’s more than just behavioural modification – it’s, like, mind modification? “Brainwashing” would be the obvious term, I suppose. But it’s one thing to say “OK slut, here are the things you will do, obey them” – it feels like quite another to have internalised them to this degree. And I don’t think it’s, like, to a dangerous extent or anything. I’ve pretty much immediately noticed the couple of times I’ve walked out with my collar on, and I don’t think it’s going to progress to the point where I start lapping up my Sprite on the floor of a McDonald’s. These are House Rules, and so obviously I don’t follow them outside of the house.

But while I’m inside the house, though… Well, anything could happen, really, couldn’t it? How many things will I have accepted as totally normal by, say, this time next year? Will I be offering up a portion of my meals to be burnt in sacrifice to my all-powerful Goddess? Setting up a secret altar in the wardrobe to pray to? Reciting half an hour of hypnotic mantras before I turn in for the night? It could be anything. And those are just things a slut came up with on the fly!

The main point, here, is that I’m adjusting very nicely to my House Rules, I think. I often wonder, despite how often I call myself slut, and am called slut by others – am I really that slutty? I mean, don’t sluts go out and get railed half to death on a nightly basis? But when I stop and think (a rarity, for an empty and mindless object) about what I’m actually doing, and why I’m doing it – the label seems to make a lot more sense.

Besides, Mistress calls slut that all the time – and she certainly knows best. What more need be said? Thanks for reading.

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