To My Former Master

Dear Former Master,

When “we” ended, things sucked. No matter how hard I worked or what I did to please you, nothing was ever good enough.

Now that I am offering myself to another, I’m finding so many good things about your ownership of me. I don’t understand why you pushed me away, but you did a kick ass job on my training.

I was offered (and accepted) an opportunity to be considered by a Dom who is honest, trustworthy, highly respected, well known, and who we both know and adore. I am proud of the slave I am offering him. I will not be his slave, but that is what I am, at my core. This slave has the tools, the confidence, the humility, and the sex appeal to be an excellent submissive to this amazing Dom.

I own this, for sure. I am proud of the slave who had to walk away from you. I am proud of what I learned under your ownership, and I love who I became as a result of your training. But I never would have become this person were it not for your ownership, your dedication, your firm hand, your absolute unconditional love of who I am.

When that love disappeared, I couldn’t possibly take it personally. You did too good of a job with my training for that. I know I have much to offer. Sure, I am not perfect, and I know this Dom will mold me into a new and better shape. But the overall result of your hard work is a pretty amazing slave.

Thank you. Thank you for telling me I’m loveable, and making me understand the truth of that all the way down to the core of my soul. Thank you for showing me my worth in irrefutable ways, for giving me absolute proof of my beauty. I will carry that with me forever, and in every submissive act I ever complete, I will honor the memory of you.

I wish I could thank you in person. I hope one day you see this. I took off your collar. But I wear it always around my slave heart.




I had a date tonight.  Cancelled it.  My plans today didn’t go exactly as planned.  I had to buy a car.  Woke up a bit late, headed out a bit late, arrived a bit late, and stayed way late.  I’m in love with the car, by the way.  Amazing, beautiful, fun to drive, great gas mileage, and a sunroof!  I visited with my brother while he fiddled with my new car and tried to fix a couple minor items.  I had planned (or hoped) to be back in town by noon-ish, maybe 1pm, to get ready for my date.  I didn’t get home til 4pm.  And I had a ton of things to do, besides just the getting ready part.  So, I cancelled.

But that’s not why I’m writing.  I’m glad I cancelled, because I woke up this morning absolutely TERRIFIED of this date.  I don’t know why.  I was very excited to meet this person, who had responded to an ad I posted looking for a dom.  He is articulate, respectful, and likes the same things I like.  He wants to get to know me, and his domly plans (in and out of the bedroom) mesh with my hopes.  I don’t understand what’s wrong.  But something is, for sure.  My stomach is in knots, and not in a good way.  I was super excited to meet my other paramour, and still get excited when I’m going to see him. 

I’ve thought on this all day, and I just can’t pin it down.  I’ve considered that it may be that I’m not attracted to him physically (he’s a man…I’m not attracted to men…I’m attracted to dominance, regardless of gender, but I at least found the other man pleasing to look at when I thought of him pulling my hair…not so much with this one).  I’ve considered that his primary desire from a sub is blow jobs, and that I have always hated blow jobs.  However, when I meet with the other guy, I LOVE it.  It’s another *thing* I’ve discovered that I love as long as I get it with a side of dominance.  But maybe it’s that I know he’s going to critique me on my abilities, and maybe I won’t measure up.  But he doesn’t EXPECT me to measure up, and wants to train me, which is usually a huge turn on for me.  I’ve also considered that it may be because he wants me to shave…but I doubt that has anything to do with it.  I don’t really have any sort of objection to shaving except that it’s not fun.  I do lots of not-fun things as a sub, and enjoy doing them because my dom enjoys them. 

If I could pinpoint one thing that makes me uncomfortable to think about, it’s the cock sucking.  It shouldn’t make me uncomfortable, beings that it’s what pleases him, and he is dominant…but something is just WRONG there. 

I don’t know if I will meet with him now, because I’m so incredibly uncomfortable.  I feel as though I might be missing out on a big opportunity.  But I need to listen to my intuition.  Unless and until I can figure out what my intuition is telling me, I can’t go through with meeting him.  I wish I understood.

What Would Master Do?

Not long after my last relationship ended (on New Year’s Eve; interesting, no?), I spoke with some sub/slave friends about how to get through losing my master.  One of these friends said that she herself had recently lost her master as well, and she said that her coping mechanism was pretending she was still owned.  Her thought process was, what could I be doing to be useful if I had someone to be useful to?  How can I keep myself in good submissive shape, so that if a new relationship does come along, I’m not rusty, and I’ve maybe improved my usefulness and/or desireability?

I thought this was a great idea.  I considered getting a tattoo on my wrist that said, “WWMD”, to remind me to live every moment as my master would have had me live it.  Now let me just say, I need a master for a damn good reason…I suck at this stuff when I’m alone.  Making myself into a person worthy of another’s dominance is hard effin work, and if I don’t have someone to GIVE that self to, I’m all ‘eh, I’ll do it tomorrow, no one cares anyway.”  I thought this WWMD thing would be bitchin, because I’d have a goal, something to work toward.  And my master did train me well.  Her #1 rule was “take care of yourself”.  What kind of toy would I be if I were broken?  So, slave maintenance was (in theory, not practice) top priority.  This makes perfect sense to me, whether I’m partnered or not.  If I’m not exercising, then I won’t be limber enough to get in positions a potential future master/play partner will want me to get into, I won’t be able to last as long, I’ll get injured easier.  If I’m not eating enough of the right foods, or eating too much of the wrong foods, I’ll get sick (or die…bad shit runs in my family, and I know the risks), and what use to a future master would I be then?  If I’m not taking care of my emotional health, I won’t be able to manage the mind fuckery a potential future master might want to put me through.  You get the gist.

Well, I KNOW why I ought to do it.  I know how helpful it would be.  I know I WANT to do this, and when I remember to do it, it fills me with peace, almost as though my master were right beside me, reminding me of the rules.  But (you knew that was coming, didn’t you?), I forget.  And when I remember, I sometimes tell my imaginary master to get bent because I want to eat some fucking potato chips even though I know I’ve had too much salt today, and I’ll be a good girl tomorrow or something.  And sometimes, I just suck at it.  All of the above came together in one “Jesus, THIS is why I need a master!” moment today.  So I’m going to share my little story with you, because it’s amusing, enlightening, and I don’t feel like going to sleep yet.  Even though I should.  Because my imaginary master would tell me to get off the fucking computer and go to bed right now.  Shut up.

So.  I’ve been craving a lot of salt lately.  Plus, I don’t have proper refrigeration, so a lot of what I eat is prepared food (which is LOADED with salt).  Plus, most of the food I have in my possession goes well with MOAR SALT.  Plus I was PMS’ing while I was craving the salt.  Plus, I have no idea why, but I have not been drinking much water lately.  This is very unlike me.  I drink TOO MUCH water normally, but I haven’t been wanting to.  The thought of drinking water just hasn’t appealed to me.  So, I’m at work today, having started my period about 36 hours prior.  I’m feeling achy, run-down, hot, grumpy, and tired.  My co-worker notices me sitting and asks me to come help her (if she has to ask, then I know I’m being lazy, and you better believe I’m going to get up and bust some ass, because that’s just not ok).  I’m up for not even five minutes, and she says, “are you ok?”  yeah, I say, just heartburn, and it’s not bad, it’ll go away on its own.  She looks at me and says, “you’re red.  ALL over.”  I look down, and sure as shit, I’m on fire.  Slowly, the wheels start turning, and things begin coming clear to me.  “I just need some water,” I say to my co-worker.  She tells me to go sit down and drink some water NOW (ok I’ve been helping her for like 7 minutes, and I’m feeling pretty shitty at this point, because as I mentioned, if someone has to ASK me to help, that’s pretty bad, and I need to be up off my ass getting some work done.  I’m not one to leave things for all my coworkers to do).  So I try to continue helping, and she pulls the spray bottles, rags, brooms, and everything I pick up, out of my hands and says, “seriously, I’m worried about you, go sit down”.  *sigh* ok, mom.  So I’m sitting down, drinking my water, and these things start popping into my head.  I’ve been craving salt.  Salt dehydrates me.  I’ve been craving salt because I was going to start my period.  I’ve been bleeding for a day and a half.  I’m losing bodily fluid, which (duh) dehydrates me.  I haven’t been wanting to drink my usual water.  Which (DUH) dehydrates me.  I don’t have a master.  This is the kind of thing my master would be throwing out instructions about all day long (“stop eating salt, you’re going to get dehydrated.  If you’re hungry, eat some fruit.” “Drink water.”  “Drink more water.”  “Fill up your water bottle.” “You need extra water, you’re bleeding.”  Yeah, I needed someone to remind me of how my body works.  I get so busy serving people that I forget to keep my tank full, and I always think, “I’ll just do this one more thing before I take care of myself”, which my master shut down on a regular basis because I’d better not break her fucking toy).

So anyway, I sat there for a few minutes while my co-worker finished the cleaning.  Of course the second she left the room, I got up and started cleaning (it wasn’t intentional, I got up to get some water, saw some things that needed to be done, and did them).  I’m in the laundry room switching the clothes over and I hear her holler from the other room, “you’re in so much trouble!”, because she knows I’m up.  My first thought was to holler back, “that would carry some weight if you were my dom!”

I’m a snarky little bitch sometimes.  Heh.  But I didn’t say it, and I did get in lots of sitting and water-drinking.  And lots of missing having a d-type to remind me to keep myself in decent shape to ensure maximum usefulness.  Oh yeah, and did I mention I’m emotional as FUCK???  So yeah, I cried.  Which dehydrated me more.  I’m going to go drink some water now.

“Slut” vs. Slut

When I was a teenager, I was a “slut”.  I took awful lessons I learned in an abusive childhood and applied them to my new independence.  I made choices out of a desire to feel good.  Sex has always been a positive thing for me, deep down inside (ha…no pun intended), even if it was a terrible thing on the surface.  I had no respect for myself.  None of my lovers had any respect for me, either.  I slept with men indiscriminately, and “fell in love” constantly.  I slept with men to pass the time, to have a bed to sleep in when I was homeless, to get dirty old men to shut up, to spite my parents, to find a sense of closeness…all of them bad reasons, when I look back with new eyes.  I was a “slut” because that’s what they called girls like me, not because it was a title I wanted. 

I enjoy sex.  I enjoy sensual interaction, with or without sex.  I enjoy touch, the electricity between people who appreciate each other, the emotional release of time spent on hedonistic pursuits.  I always have.  I was shamed about it, and shamed myself about it, for most of my life.

One of the most positive aspects of my relationship with my former master was my “reclaiming” of the word slut.  I was monogamous to her, so technically, I was not a slut.  But I was HER slut.  I exhibited slutty behavior.  I wore slutty clothes.  I moved my body to accept her entrance.  I begged for what I wanted.  I screamed, flailed, lost my senses, found myself basking in the deepest parts of my darkest desires.  And I savored every damn minute of it.

Now, I call myself a slut proudly.  That word cannot be used to shame me anymore.  I currently only have one FWB-type lover, so again I am not technically a slut, but again, I find myself moving my body to accept entrance, beg for more, enjoy slippery contact, snuggle in a sweaty heap after opening my body and heart to another person.

The difference between now and then?  When I was young, I think I was seeking reassurance that I was ok, that I was loveable, that someone, ANYONE would actually want to touch me, be touched by me, that I was good enough for human contact.  Now?  Oh honey.  HA!  Now, I KNOW I’m good enough.  Oh, there are plenty of people who don’t find larger ladies sexy, and they can go fuck skinny chicks (I wish them well, and many naughty adventures).  There are plenty who would/do find me crass, and they can go find demure ladies (again, I wish them well, and many naughty adventures).  But now I KNOW there are also plenty of people who thoroughly enjoy large women who curse like sailors, play cello, crochet, and have hearts of gold to match a mouth I wouldn’t kiss my momma with.  And for THOSE folks?  Fuck yeah, I’m a slut. 

I enjoy sex and sensuality as much as ever.  But now, I enjoy the fact that I enjoy it!  I’m not ashamed anymore to say I want to do “dirty, naughty” things, and I don’t believe those things ARE dirty or naughty, or shameful, or sinful.  They’re beautiful.  And they are a part of me.  And goddamn, I love me.  I’m awesome.  (Not perfect, by far, but awesome, and worthy of a really good romp in the sack with someone who appreciates all that I have to offer.)

Do I WANT a Master?

This has been on my mind for a very, very long time.  And I truthfully don’t know what to do with this.  I absolutely loved my former master’s control over me, the protocols we had, the aspects of my life that were micromanaged, or that were constantly at her whims.  I get all swoony when I read other slave’s blog posts about their TPE, and while I feel like there are parts of other slave’s relationships that wouldn’t work for me, the idea of having that level of control again just feels like home.  I never felt as at home in my skin as I did when I was a slave.  My number one goal was always deepening my submission, finding new ways to serve, and pleasing my master.  I was in my element.

On the other hand, I feel guilty (and did at the time, too) because much of what my former master TRIED to control didn’t work.  For instance, as mentioned previously, I had impossibly long lists of things to do.  I want to clarify here that my list of things to do was NOT impossibly long because my master was moving things to my list to make it easier for her to do hers.  She moved items to my list so that she wouldn’t HAVE a list.  This began as a temporary situation, when she really needed a break from real life, for very good reasons.  I had no problem with this, and in fact I reveled in the chance to be useful to  her, and help her through the difficult times.  This happened twice prior to our relationship morphing into a power exchange relationship, and eventually slowly returned to normal, where we each put in effort to keep our household running, the bills paid, the child and furbabies taken care of, and our lives running smoothly.  After we began our TPE, the need again arose for her to take a break.  This time, the break never ended, and it eventually became impossible for me to keep up on her work and mine, while she quite literally just slept.  (I know she was depressed, and so did she…that realization didn’t help either of us come up with a resolution, and it didn’t make her any more likely to realistically evaluate the impossibility of the tasks she gave me).

I understand that as my master, she had the right to ask of me whatever she felt necessary, and that as her willing slave, I should have complied.  And I tried, I did better than my best, I worked very hard, and no matter what I did, it was impossible.  The ONE thing I refused to do was accept abuse.  (By abuse I mean intentional, nonconsensual harm, either emotional, physical, sexual, etc.)  This specific area really seemed to be where we ran into issues.

Before I get to my point here, I have to stop and say I’m SO torn, even about writing this out.  On the one hand, it’s bad form to put down your former dom in public.  And here I am doing it.  On the other hand, this was my experience, I’m being honest, and I’m trying to work out something that has to do with the subject of this blog: being submissive…or rather, a problem I’m trying to solve about my submission.  I’m not sure what to do here, what’s the right thing to do.  So, I’m going to save this in my drafts and not publish it until I’ve slept on it, and reread it in the morning.

Back to my original point: I very strongly desire a TPE relationship.  I feel that’s where I belong (oh trouble! Here’s that where I belong thing again!), or at least where my desire most closely fits who I am.  At this point, I’m not willing to have a live-in, monogamous, financially entangled union, but sans those items, a Power Exchange relationship would be SO lovely. But I wonder, if I did meet someone who wanted a TPE with me, and who did NOT want a live-in, monogamous, financially entangled slave…would I be a GOOD slave?  What if I wasn’t able to comply with all of my new master’s orders?  What if I had to say no to things, for health reasons?  Or, as happened many times with my former master, what if I had to say no because it was a really inappropriate, unsafe, or unethical thing?  My former master had really bad judgment sometimes, and asked me often to do things that even SHE would have disagreed with had she thought it out ahead of time (when we were still able to have candid, non-codependent discussions, she would say specifically “these situations are not ok”, and then when she was feeling insecure, she would ask me to do those specific things…).

When I write it all out like this, it feels extremely obvious that I was NOT being a bad slave.  Every single instance where my former master asked me to do something I didn’t comply with, I had a very good reason.  At the same time, I can’t escape the simple fact that I. Told. Her. NO.  That was never acceptable to her, but I did it, and perhaps that’s a big part of the reason he ended our relationship so abruptly.  I wasn’t willing to be abused, or to put either of us into illegal, dangerous, or unethical situations.  I expected her to have the forethought to not put us into those situations, but time and time again, I had to make the difficult decision of whether or not to tell her no, because her common sense had just flown out the window for a minute. I was a disappointment to her.  I don’t ever want to be a disappointment again.

I guess what I’m getting at is, should a slave EVER tell their master no?  Did I do the wrong thing?  Will I fail in future M/s relationships if I’m unwilling to put myself, my master, and/or the people around us in dangerous, illegal, or unethical circumstances?


Journal Prompts

Long ago, I started a blog that I maybe posted in 3 or 4 times.  My former master had instructed me to start the blog, and to write in it for one hour a week.  I had many plans for that blog, but it was simply not possible to write in it, except on rare occasion.  Throughout that M/s relationship, I was pretty consistently given lists of things to do that weren’t humanly possible to complete.  I have my suspicions about why she would do that, but regardless…it sucked badly.  I so wanted to please, and I eventually came to the understanding that it simply wasn’t possible.  So, in lieu of being able to please her, my goal became to do my very best, always, and not worry about the things I couldn’t get done.  The problem was, it didn’t matter how many hours I went without sleep, how much I DID get done, how few things were left on my list, how hard I tried, how many of the “important things” I completed, how exhausted I was, how pleased I was with my abilities, or anything else…those things that were left on the list were all my former master ever cared about, and all I would hear about.

I hadn’t intended for this post to become an emotional dump, so let me get back on track here.  One of the plans I had for my blog that I never had the opportunity to do was something I had heard of called submissive journal prompts.  I was reminded of these yesterday while I was browsing my twitter feed and peeking at various different BDSM blogs.  I remembered that this was something I’d wanted to do at some point, and thought hey, I can do that now.

A side note here: there were many good things my former master did for me.  First of all, I LOVE my body, and I never have before.  I don’t like the health issues that go along with being obese, but I love the way it looks, and I love that my body is pleasing to some – and that gives me the courage to really only give a shit about pleasing people who already enjoy body shapes such as mine.  Other things my master did (or tried to do) for me were to instill in me a sense of importance about self care.  I belonged to her, and if I were to serve her, I needed to take good care of myself.  It didn’t end up working out this way due to the aforementioned Insanely Impossible List she constantly had for me, but I remember what she *said* at least.  So, when she left me, I decided fairly early on (thanks in part to a friend of mine who helped talk me through the initial shock and grief) that I needed to be my own Master, until I find another.  I need to have rules and schedules and expectations that a Master would have for me.  I need to keep my submissive muscle in shape, in preparation for my next opportunity to serve.  

Another side note: I was figuring this blog might not get a whole lotta love because I don’t have much going on right now.  Or rather, I have too much going on right now…school, two jobs, visits with the little one, cooking, cleaning, laundry, life…and there’s not really tons of room in there for romance or developing a LTR (unless I’m able to find paramours who don’t need or want subs/slaves who will be at their feet constantly, but instead want part-timers, or at least in-person part-time…24/7 mental bondage is an option).  So, I might not have much to post about as far as relationships.  So, submissive journal prompts give me something else to write about, and a way to flex my submissive muscle without a dom.

Ok, without further ado, today’s journal prompt is:

Do you write New Year Resolutions? What might you place on the list this year? What things did you accomplish from last year’s list?

I do not write resolutions.  I’ve always thought they were stupid.  I’d break them anyway.  This year, however, I completely changed my mind.  Not only did I write them, I’m living them.  My reasoning here was twofold: #1, I think it had to do with being my own Master, but this was before I had even been presented with the idea.  It was just…an inkling of a thought, or more of a feeling, that I needed to have goals, trust myself, and treat my life as though I’m serving a worthy Master, even if I’m not.  #2, I knew I could actually accomplish my dreams this year.  These aren’t “maybe’s”, these are possible, almost necessary, and important for my well-being.  All but one of them were pretty much given, from the moment my former master informed me of his* decision.

My resolutions are:

1. Learn to play “Wish You Were Here” on cello

This is the only one I haven’t started on yet.  I’m pretty disappointed, too.  I know I can do it, and I’m not sure what’s stopping me.  I have my cello less than 3 feet away from me, there’s no excuse.

2. Increase my wardrobe

I spent the last five years, as have most people, in a perpetual state of fear over finances.  The progression was consistently worse, not better.  I have many of the same clothes I had at the beginning of those five years, full of holes, sewn together so many times they’re misshapen and ugly, and it seriously got to the point where every new job I got, I wondered if they were going to reprimand me for my awful clothing.  This year, thanks to an amazing living situation provided by my best friend after my master left me, I have the ability to build my wardrobe.  And I tell you what, I’m going to do it RIGHT.  I know what I like, and what I need.  I’m going to build my wardrobe slowly, supporting local artisans, buying clothing that fits my body, my style, and my life, and that are built to last.  So far, I’ve bought one pair of shoes, doc martens, which should last me approximately forever.  And I’ve put in an order for shoes and a shirt that I know I’ll love. 

3. Go back to school

Done.  Working on a BA in Human Services, specializing in gerontology, hoping to be a hospice social worker, or something similar.  I’m doing it all online between my two jobs.

4. Stay involved in the BDSM scene as much as safely possible. 

I’ve already found a local community that has munches once a month (it’s a very small town), and infrequent play parties.  I’m also close enough to travel to a few larger areas that have more events, when I’m able to fit it in between school.  And of course, I found one play partner that I’ve gotten together with once, and I’m hoping that will continue.


I hate drama, always have.  It’s just ridiculous and unnecessary.  I hate that I lived with so much drama, and never put my foot down about it.  On the one hand, I felt that if my master wanted to live a dramatic life, it was no business of mine to stop it or partake in it.  On the other hand, it left me in a very bad position, because I think many people in the kink community saw the two of us together, and had no idea that I simply refused to partake in the drama.  I just kept my mouth shut, because I didn’t know what else I *COULD* do.  No more.  That was seriously just stupid, and I’m disappointed in myself that I allowed someone to drag me through that mud.

The last part of the prompt will be short and sweet: I didn’t have resolutions last year, or any other year of my life until now.  Thanks for reading!

*My former master is a trans man, but he came out as trans at the tail end of our relationship.  So, for most of our relationship, my master was (as far as i was aware) female.  The last few months, he was male.  I will from time to time switch back and forth between pronouns, depending on time frame.

Enjoying life

I haven’t gotten together with date-guy again, but we’re talking every day, and when schedules mesh, we’ll get together again.  I’m hoping to see him again later this week.  He calmed down the dominance A LOT, which gets more disappointing every day.  But I know he’ll bring it in the bedroom.  Mostly now we just talk about life, and how our days are going, which is good.  I didn’t really want a “fuck buddy”, I wanted someone I could actually get to know, hang out with whether or not we were getting naked, be friends with, maybe even grow to love…and it seems like this guy might be great for that. 

I saw the married couple again, and OMG, they’re SO sweet and fun to hang out with!  Nothing sexual there at all, but it’s so lovely to have kinky friends and to watch them go through the process of exploring their kinks.  I went to their house for dinner, along with a mutual kinky friend.  We had a fun conversation, and I’m hoping to hang out with them again.

I’m thinking quite a bit about sexual orientation lately, because hello, I’m a lesbian, but I’m sleeping with a man, and LOVING it.  When the realization first came to me that I’m a lesbian, how that came about was a sudden realization that I’m not actually attracted to men.  I don’t ever see men and think, “wow, he’s hot”.  I had no idea what attraction was until that moment, and looking back on my life, I realized that I had never been attracted to men.  Ever.  I’ve dated very, very unattractive men, because the thing that matters to me is not their looks, it’s their personality.  Granted, personality is important, but you don’t fuck personality, amiright?  So, while I don’t *NOTICE* men, and am not attracted to men physically, I’ve never had a problem having sex with men.  I don’t get grossed out by it.  Now that I’ve experienced sex with someone I was attracted to, and I understand what attraction is, I see the huge difference in my interactions, feelings for, and responses between men and women.

When I have sex with a woman, first things first, I’m actually attracted to her.  I enjoy the thought of a woman’s body.  I enjoy how women move and feel, and I find myself invested in the touching and exploring of every inch.  I don’t want to miss ANYTHING.  I enjoy the various curves and dips and sensuality that can’t be found on a man.  When I sleep with a man, I don’t feel any of that.  I don’t (usually) enjoy men’s bodies.  I have noticed, however, that if the man is dominant, then his penis is suddenly enticing…because I know he’s going to MAKE me pleasure him…the psychological attraction to dominance somehow carries over into a sudden physical attraction.  But it’s not automatic, like it would be with a woman (for instance, if I were to see a woman walking down the street, and know nothing more about her than what she looks like, I may find myself attracted to her…whereas I wouldn’t even notice a man in that situation, and I certainly wouldn’t be wondering what he looks like under his clothes).

Something else just occurred to me that may have significant relevance here.  I’m *mostly* a service oriented sub.  I enjoy serving, and I always have, since long before I discovered kink.  It’s just a part of my personality.  But for many years, I dated men who I felt “needed” me.  After I discovered that I’m a lesbian, I felt a lot of shame about this (well in truth, I always felt shameful about it).  I couldn’t understand why I would use sex as a form of service to men.  I’m talking about lonely men, “ugly” men who just couldn’t find a date, men who felt lost and alone…broken, damaged, hurting men.  I could show them, with my body, that someone cared.  Granted, that point of view came from a horrible place that was fostered in an abusive childhood, but I feel like this is significant now.  I don’t feel very much different when I think of “serving” men who are broken and hurting, versus “serving” men who are dominating me.  So…perhaps those two things are one and the same for me…it’s all about service.  If I can serve a man, be subordinate to him, be used as a tool for his pleasure, then he (that one particular man) is attractive to me. 

So.  Maybe that means that my sexual orientation is “lesbian and/or submissive”…lol.  I don’t know.  I do know that it’s something I’ve been thinking about a lot lately, because for the first time in my life, I thoroughly enjoyed having a cock in my mouth, and I’d do it again in a heartbeat…as long as he’s spanking me and pulling my hair and…oh *squish*… 😀