Thursday, 29 October 2015


He is going out tonight.
To play.
To play with rope.
To tie up other girls.

I am reaching for calm, slave thoughts.
Thoughts of compersion.

Silencing the insecure-wife-thoughts.
I know I have written on here before about my thoughts on poly.
I get it on an intellectual level. I get it because of how I can fall in love in truly platonic ways--I get it as much as I can get it.
  Jealousy, is a learnt behaviour.
I have never understood jealousy.

I do understand insecurity.
Insecurity, happens with breaks in faith.
And tonight, I am trying to let go and trust.
He has always had more faith than I.
My cynic can't be dimmed.

This particular event, is really no big deal.
But its the first time, in such a long time.
On the other hand, it is a huge deal because...
He is testing.

He has faith that I am ready.
That I can hold steady.
That I am healed enough, emotionally stable enough, to be able to flow with this.

We talked ad nauseam about this.

I needed to hear why it was important to him.
I needed to feel his anticipation, his joy, why he wants this...and more.
Because we have suspected, for a number of years, that one day, the longing for more, on his side, would be a subject that would have to be broached.
 I needed to hear how it wasn't a reflection of me.

Its not that I'm not enough.

He wants this experience.
He wants more.

In the end, I needed to hear, that I was just property.
He can go out and do this and I can deal with it.

He is trusting me to deal with it.
That I won't flip out later tonight, or tomorrow or the next day.
That I won't hold this over him.

This is him, filling up his own well.
He needs me to let this happen and not stand in his way.

Monday, 26 October 2015

Can't Go Back

Just me and baby tonight. 
He is off to see a hockey game. 
Really good seats.
Lucky, lucky bastard.
I'm ecstatic for him. Truly. Though I will admit, that the arrival of this event, did make me want to have a night off for the first time in ten months. A pang of envy, that he can just leave. 
For me, I have to stop and strap 27lbs to my chest, first. You know. 

I'm missing my mum tonight. 
A lot. 
My mum would have brought me food.
My mum wouldn't have cared how clean my house was.
My mum would have stayed with me until one or two am, whenever my husband returned. 
My mum wouldn't have asked what to do, she would have just done it.
 Even if I disliked how she did it. 
And I would have.

The summer I was pregnant, my mum received a diagnosis that resulted in her being in a nursing home.
If I wasn't pregnant, I feel like I could have fought for her. I would have tried my best to push for another diagnosis, I would have helped her explore more options.
I'm the youngest of a gaggle.
I'm the one who fights.
The others, just kind of do what is easy or familiar.
So my mum wasn't around for the final months of my pregnancy.
I would change that now, if I could. 

But this diagnosis,imploded our family.
The others didn't deal with it very well.
For the first time ever, we had conflict among ourselves.
It ended up with siblings not talking to each other.

I fell on the side of not talking to those who were in care of my mum's care.

Both families were unhappy with us after the birth.
We told them, that we wanted 24hours with the babe before they visit and barrage in with their cameras.
His side weren't fine with this but they know better than to fight with my husband and my side understood a bit better. 
There were many decisions that we made that no one else understood and that affected what happened postpartum.

When we transferred to hospital. for some reason, they thought that we would be following the usual protocol and having them come to visit us in the hospital.
 We had to tell them that no, they could wait till we were settled at home.

Postpartum was pretty bleak. So very, very bleak.
We had this beautiful new baby and it felt like no one cared because no one showed up.
 No one visited. 
For the longest time, caught in the fog of this period, I felt like it didn't matter and the lack of support, the selfish nature of the family played a huge part in these feelings.

My mum would have shown up.
When the others did bring her that one time, she was the only one to fold my laundry. 
My dementia addled mother, calmly sat my couch while I fumbled nursing my baby and folded my laundry while the others kind of sat in silence.
It was kind of awful. 

In all these months, as our baby has thrived and grown, I have missed my mum.

We visit her as often as we can. 
Its not enough. 
I send her pictures and cards and talk to her on the phone as much as I can.
Its not enough.

The last time we visited her, when we came out of that place, into the parking lot, I sat down with my beautiful baby, right there in the grass, nursed him and cried silent tears. 
I miss my mum. 

Saturday, 24 October 2015

Move Just A Little

He will at times, jump onto my fast moving train. 
 Because I get really excited about stuff. 
And new things make me happy. 
It's kind of infectious and domino-effect at times. 
And sometimes, I sound perfectly sane when I lay out a crazy scheme.
He sees no harm in it and will come along. 
 He reins in my chaos. My chaos that fuels that momentum of the fast-moving train. 

We were pretty tired. 
So when I moved the place of a pan or two, it all seemed innocent. 
When I told him, I had to reorganize the kitchen cupboard for my sanity, it seemed linear. 
He said okay, but just that particular cupboard. 
But you move one thing...and you have to move the other thing.
Chaos puts up a good fight to have its way. 
And the last time I felt compelled to rearrange the kitchen? Well, lets not say it outloud. Seriously, lets not.
So we might have been a little caught up in that thought.
Next thing you know, the entire contents of my pantry and all the cookery and baking stuff is all over the counters. Cupboards are stripped and bared and now we've realized that oh...this is just too much for my still overwhelmed left brain to handle. 

He probably should have rein it in a little harder.
I should have listened to him, back when he told me just one cupboard. 
I should have paid attention.
But I foraged ahead. 

Now I am left with a total pulled apart kitchen. 
He's slightly unhappy. 

But we will laugh about this (later...much later) and we will put things back together again in their new places or old slots and we will go on.

Its how we roll.

Friday, 23 October 2015


Cleaned the cabinets, counters, floors. Wiped down mirrors and scrubbed the kitchen and bathroom.
 Because...the Hovel is empty.
He and Baby Bleu are out together.
Having a perfectly fantastic time.
And I'm here kind of loosing my mind....a little bit.

Went for a walk.
Even the Venti Six Pump Pumpkin Spice Latte didn't quell my nervous.
This is the longest Baby Bleu and I have been parted...

I keep telling myself, "He's with daddy not an oger...."
 You know, it didn't help that much.

Tuesday, 20 October 2015


He snapped the collar on me today.
This morning.
After stuff, happened (read: I lost it).
 The collar has been off for months and months. 

Him putting it back on me, made me want to lay at his feet in a heap, curl into a ball and cry my eyes out and claw his face off.

He said something that there is no more me testing him.
I honestly don't think I have been testing him.
At least not in a conscious-brating out kind of way. 
But maybe there is something to his trying to figure out where all the pieces fit and where we fit and what happens next.
 In losing those feelings of security and safety and trust...maybe? Maybe I needed to see and sense and feel that He is there, safe, secure and trustworthy.
 I don't know. 

Emotional hangovers are no fun. 
Fortunately, there is vodka leftover from painting the town red last night.

Him putting his collar back on me was a birthday present to himself. 

Sunday, 18 October 2015

Flight Fight and Ghouls

There is a thread on Fet right now about what to do when one's Master triggers that fight or flight response.
I wrote out a whole long reply to it, then deleted it.

The effects of trauma definitely triggers my fight or flight response. Before, I would say that I was more likely to flight, doing that dear in the headlights thing before my brain caught up and I regulated my own emotions. Or He did.

There were even times before, where His sadist tendencies, wanted to get that emotional boiling over response from me. He wanted me to loose control. He wanted me to be a nuclear explosion. He did it because He could control it. Nowadays, we lightly skim the edges of this kind of play. I wonder if we will ever be able to play with that kind of emotional sadism again. It hurts me that we can';t because it was something that lent an intensity to our dynamic that is missing.

Now, I am all fight.
Something with trigger me, I'll have the stress reaction and I will fight as if a wounded animal.
It is better now.
Less toxic.
But there are still moments where this happens.
Where I loose it and lash out and fight.
And I hate it.
I hate that I can see Him as a predator, I hate that I can feel as if He is out to harm me.
Because nothing is further from the truth.
But within that emotional storm, the only thing I know is what the stress reaction has caused me to see.
Its happening less frequently now but happened just this past week.

I am currently reading Jacqueline Carey's Dark Currents. It took me a few chapters to get into it and honestly, if I wasn't author loyal I probably would have skipped it. But in the book, there are ghouls. Ghouls feed on emotions to sustain themselves--so yeah kind of a take on the vampric character--and all I could think of was how I wish I had a ghoul.

It would be nice, if in the moments of these toxic emotional maelstroms that I am still experiencing, some well dressed, well mannered, harley riding manservant calmly ate all of the emotion I was spinning out...where the hell are the emotional vampires when you need them, eh?

He used to be the balm to my angry vibes.
He used to be able to quell my raging storms, with a single word.
I used to go to Him with the waters of my troubled soul.
 Back when the emotions were a little above level--because I'm an emotional being--not like now.
Not like now at all.

For the most part, we are content. There is harmony. There is even some of our old normal coming back into play.

But for the times when the lows are really low and I am in a triggered emotional toxic soup, a ghoul would be oh so helpful.

Tuesday, 13 October 2015


There has been kinkery.
Here and there.
When we can fit it in.

Its different.
But its not.

We flow better.
Almost like before.
Not quite.

He still hasn't tried all the toys out.
But there has been rough play and hard use.
And I haven't fallen apart.

Over the last couple of months, it feels like He has been reclaiming me. Reclaiming us. He has been putting me exactly where He wants me. He wants more of me. He wants me to endure, to take more, to stretch myself more, to accommodate more...and you know what, as it turns out? I can dig deeper.
I can give more.

While He is taking more...
I am longing for more.

More play.
More hard use.
More toys.
More control.
 I want that proof of his words--that is what I crave more than anything. Show me.
I can't quite let that go.
I don't know if  I have to.

He fucked me and used me and flogged me.
He beat me and took me and spat on me and forced me.
Then, He wrote on me.
I am often his canvas.
He told me, He is taking all of me.
Reminded me,
I am His.
All of me.
Even the ugly parts.
The really, horrible ugly parts that I have slave guilt over in the fog of the postpartum period, the ugly parts that reared their heads that I still have nightmares about.
But, as He reminded me, it is not my job to beat myself up.
All of me.

Including the scar I wish wasn't there.
There may be acceptance.
But I don't think the questions will ever leave my mind.
Why? Did we do everything we could? Was this the only choice? Was it really the best choice?
What if we had waited longer?
I wish we had waited longer.
I wish I had said to cervix checks.
I wish I hadn't called the midwife so soon.
I wish I had said no.
I wish I had consulted one more person.
I wish it hadn't happened that way.... problem is always that I will exhaust all outcomes, I will look under each when a decision is made, a lot of the time my barrier to acceptance of that decision is not the outcome or the decision but the fact that not every, possible stone was overturned.

Because when I think back to that night in December when I can silent the should haves and what what have beens, I come back truths. He was at my side. Beside him, was the other best person I know.
When I don't or can't trust myself, these are the people I trust.

And that is what silences the quest of questions and brings me back to acceptance.

When I get loud and vocal about it, when I get angry and upset about it, He holds me or beats me, and reminds me, I am His.

SlavelingChattel, current Fet nic.

Friday, 9 October 2015

Questing for Old.

We have a standing appointment on Fridays.
He takes Baby Bleu to an activity (or as I like to call it 'Circle Hel) and I go and browse the bookshop for an hour.
 I know.
Horrible deal.
This week has been stressful.
Up and down.
I have had no time.
He's been under extra stress.
Which made me feel his stress, extra.
I didn't realize he was stressed until it was too late.
Our communication isn't the way of old, but it is so much better, now that the fog of postpartum has lifted.
Despite the stress, there has been peace. And I have tried to keep my cool.
  I was triggered twice this week.
  But the reactions? So much better. Manageable.
So you know, its been a week.
 Not perfect, but good days, even with the helping of extra stress.

Until today.
Baby Bleu has a routine, not a schedule.
We follow his cues.
There is no set feeding time or bedtime.
We go with the flow.
Except for Fridays.
Because of the standing appointment.
Fridays we have to get up earlier.
Which really means, I have to get up. I get up early, the house follows suit.
Or..He gets up early, gets me up early.
"Early" means by 9am.
 I know, horrible deal.
We did not wake up early today.
Which means, nap time is going to be smack dab in middle of standing appointment.

I said, we aren't going to go.
He disagreed.
Pointed out that Baby Bleu will nap after, or while they are there, either way, we are all going.
I said no.
He laughed, told me to get on with it.

He said we are going.
So we are going.
I know we are going.
I protested, loudly.
Went through the motions, of course I did.
Because he said we are going and I still obey.
 Just with a helping of snark and loud protestations.

Its not the same. I am not quiet in my protests, I vent often and loudly.
Sometimes he lets me.
Other times he tells me to be quiet and suck it up.
Sometimes I mange to duct tape myself. Mostly, I mumble.
But it is still doing what he wants.
It is still obeying.
Not always 'how' he wants, but it is there, evidence of my slavehood in effect.

Thursday, 8 October 2015

Its good.

In a comment on greengirl's post, I wrote that her post made me envious for before.
You know, before Baby Bleu.
And it did.
Just for a moment,

But I love her post so much because it shows the maturation of a relationship in glimpses and it was actually one thing that did make me miss before times. It was kind of nice to feel nostalgic.

It really doesn't happen often. I really love his mama gig.

There has been so much good in this last year. He reminds me often, when I am swimming in the loud dark thoughts of reflecting on that last trimester of pregnancy and the first bit of when Baby Bleu landed, that they were only moments.

Horrible, awful, ugly moments, but moments, Just moments.
This time, in this part of life, the good has definitely tipped the scales.

We are coming to find balance again.

More to write on the impact...but you know, my attention is being called away..