Recommended listening: Tapha Niang, from Toumani Diabate’s Symmetric Orchestra.
Well, I didn’t end up doing much cleaning this weekend, unfortunately. I can’t pick up my vacuum cleaner yet, and I feel like that’s the majority of what I’ve got to do? I’ll stop by the supermarket tomorrow and scoop up some oven cleaner – I feel like that’s going to be a bit trickier than I think it will. Other than that, just need to clean all the surfaces in the bathroom, shower and toilet obviously, and apparently look up how to clean the filters in the heat pump? I feel like they wouldn’t’ve mentioned it if it wasn’t going to come up. The other thing I’m wondering about is whether to work from home that day or not. I know I don’t need to be there, but I’ve never met the property manager and I feel like that might be a good idea? But also, it might be really awkward to be there while they’re inspecting and all that? I don’t know… I’ll think about it.
Other than the big things, it’ll mostly just be putting things away that I don’t really want to be seen. Tidying up some mess, actually putting away shoes and such rather than leaving them out – to say nothing about the collar, and puppy bowl, and what have you. I do think it would be fun if she was a Domme, though. Can you just imagine a BDSM-aligned apartment inspection? I’d definitely have to be there for that – it’s important to show that your pets are under control and well-behaved. There’d be a nice little point to hook my leash up to – to keep me on my knees, in my place, for the duration of the proceedings. Maybe in addition to checking the kitchen and the bathroom, she’d do a little bit of a slave inspection too – make sure that collar stays locked around my neck, for instance. Tweak the nipples, employ a little CBT, maybe bust out the strap-on – just to make sure everything’s in perfect working order, of course. Taking good care of your things is key, you know – or, at the very least, putting them back together after you’re rough with them.
This is probably because I’ve been listening to Dismantled a lot today (thank you, Mistress, for another lovely laundry day), but I’ve been thinking about how much I need to be controlled. Ever since I was first called a slut, I think I’ve felt this way – even now, the word just strikes something deep inside me, that reverberates all throughout everything that I am. And as a slut, I know how much better it feels to surrender control – that silly little thing, never asked for, never wanted. I know how much better it is to have someone else in charge of this weak, empty, blank little mind. To have it all just taken apart, piece by piece, and put back together according to someone else’s wishes. What has free will done for me, really? What could be better, in the end, than obedience – submission in its purest form. Not having to think, or worry, or stress – just giving in, and relaxing into someone else’s orders. Doing as I’m told, without question, without hesitation. Isn’t that just a lovely idea? And it leads into all sorts of more specific things – into objectification, casual use, being whored out like a good little slut. But it all starts here – it all starts with this. With obedience.
…I hope I can get it back, some day. Thanks for reading.