tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-18215536912290170852011-07-07T18:55:07.886-07:00The open journal of a consensual BDSM slave.nadihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13789688686929932059noreply@blogger.comBlogger191100tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1821553691229017085.post-91841255405107094562010-09-10T04:40:00.000-07:002010-09-10T04:40:29.138-07:00

Yesterday, I found myself crying in my car after finding another sub in my Master’s house. This is nothing that should be a surprise to me – he makes no secret that he enjoys other sluts fairly regularly.  This particular girl is known to me, and I do like her.  But while he is away, as he is now, I had thought it was only I who had access to his home.  It turned out that isn’t the case, and

nadihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13789688686929932059noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1821553691229017085.post-58097906114396844992010-07-03T07:47:00.000-07:002010-07-03T07:47:03.373-07:00

Relaxing tonight, I had a strange daydream.  My imagination created a strange new society, one where arranged marriage was the norm.  Like some real life cultures, a ritual meeting was held between prospective couples to determine if the match was suitable before both families would agree, and the new wife would be 'given' to the man.  Only in this alternate reality, it was not a date or an

nadihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13789688686929932059noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1821553691229017085.post-65551644198075419302010-06-26T08:13:00.000-07:002010-06-26T08:13:33.675-07:00

It's probably stating the obvious by now to say I like my sex to hurt.  There was a time when that wasn't so clear to me, though.  I vividly remember one of the defining moments in my sexual history, when I was fucked by a truly Dominant man - in a BDSM sense - for the very first time.  Bent over with a hand grasping my hair, I was given my very first hard spank, and my response told him all he

nadihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13789688686929932059noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1821553691229017085.post-88562494154639523212010-06-14T07:40:00.001-07:002010-06-14T07:40:57.518-07:00

A little while ago, Master gave me a task.  I could, he said, earn a special reward.  Of course, he tantalised me with what the reward would be, making me crave it before he let me know what the task was.  Then he revealed it: I would have to eat some of my own shit. This is by no means something I was keen to do - but it was something I already knew I would have to do one day, sooner or later.

nadihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13789688686929932059noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1821553691229017085.post-29554283825080400662010-05-22T03:09:00.000-07:002010-05-22T03:09:51.873-07:00

Master and I were going out; as usual I didn't know where.  As usual, I had been directed to dress in a slutty outfit, so I was wearing a tight blue strapless mini dress and knee-high boots.  When he got to the house and saw me, he was very pleased, which got the evening off to a good start.  I don't consider myself a very appearance-oriented person, but it does feel great to please my Master

nadihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13789688686929932059noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1821553691229017085.post-63260981111262813852010-04-28T07:52:00.000-07:002010-04-28T07:52:21.561-07:00

Fighting my Master is something I once could never imagine, but as time and a great deal of turmoil have gone by, "resistance-play" has become something highly cathartic for me.  Not often, but sometimes, I'll feel the urge to fight as he fucks me and I'll tell him.  So far he has always responded almost the same way - with a smile and encouragement to just try it.  And so I do.  I push him away,

nadihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13789688686929932059noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1821553691229017085.post-60214953972000384152010-04-24T07:04:00.000-07:002010-04-24T07:04:08.937-07:00

The one thing that never fails to shock me about sex, is how easily other people are shocked. Thanks to a long story that I won't bother to explain here, I am in a position in my academic career right now, where I'm needing to do a lot of research on sexuality-related topics.  On the one hand, there's not a lot to learn that I'm not already personally familiar with.  But on the other hand, I am

nadihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13789688686929932059noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1821553691229017085.post-82700210014916752542010-04-20T04:35:00.000-07:002010-04-20T04:35:00.718-07:00

Master, as well as his more unusual interests, has an enthusiasm for TV box sets.  Not trashy sitcoms etc, but mainly sci-fi series and classics.  When I'm at his home and not busy serving him or engaging in deviant forms of entertainment, we often spend time watching a series on DVD together with some food or a bottle of wine. But anyway, nobody came here to read about TV, right?  The reason I

nadihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13789688686929932059noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1821553691229017085.post-19023194950605810482010-04-16T04:29:00.000-07:002010-04-16T04:33:17.795-07:00

I haven't been well lately, which is one reason why I haven't blogged in so long.  A chest infection is making it hard to breathe.  So, when Master fucks me, he has been making sure to push his weight firmly onto my chest.  Good sadomasochism can turn any situation into an opportunity - and far be it from my Master to not take full advantage. Another thing fairly unique to Master in bed is his

nadihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13789688686929932059noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1821553691229017085.post-18972806444042981482010-03-19T23:45:00.000-07:002010-03-19T23:45:25.772-07:00

I find it hard to control my bias sometimes.  Like most submissives (I suspect), I feel an inner pressure to paint only a pretty picture of what it is to be my Master's slave.  I try not to resort to romanticism, but I still wonder if sometimes I'm not guilty of the same glossy tint that I criticise other subs for.  I want to get the balance right: while I would never publicly criticise my Master

nadihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13789688686929932059noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1821553691229017085.post-52962166606618496842010-03-14T07:23:00.000-07:002010-03-14T07:26:04.335-07:00

Yesterday was a rare day - a day when I had the guilty pleasure of being visible as a deviant.  I blogged just recently about the desire to be seen for what I am - and for a full day, I was, via a leather studded collar Master left on my neck for the day. It was titillating, to have the work colleague who dropped by, and the conservative women at the library, and the checkout lady at the

nadihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13789688686929932059noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1821553691229017085.post-1104378077564690382010-03-03T07:32:00.000-08:002010-03-03T07:32:34.480-08:00

With International Women's Day on the horizon, there are countless stories being shared about the worldwide abuse of women.  Over the last two weeks, I've personally encountered stories of rape, torture, murder, slavery, and much more - often condoned by authorities in some parts of the world.  I won't go into detail about it - anyone who wants to read a human rights blog can check out Anmesty

nadihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13789688686929932059noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1821553691229017085.post-14368962092900640002010-02-26T03:21:00.000-08:002010-02-26T03:21:22.239-08:00

Something struck me when I was talking with Master last night.  We deal with unsolvable problems in such different ways - and it occurred to me that those ways are so much the essence of who we are to each other. When I'm impacted by something I cannot change, I let go of it.  If something is solvable, I can agonise over it for days - but if I'm powerless, I shrug my shoulders and move on.  It's

nadihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13789688686929932059noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1821553691229017085.post-89602383138358288042010-02-17T07:08:00.000-08:002010-02-17T07:08:41.135-08:00

Look around you at the office, or the shop, or the restaurant.  Take a glance at your neighbours, scrutinise your family, and contemplate your friends.  Who among them knows the euphoria of being tied down and whipped?  Who knows what it is, to surrender totally to another person?  Who understands the passion and devotion of committing themselves to being a slave?  Or on the other side of the

nadihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13789688686929932059noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1821553691229017085.post-28714934083353212172010-01-29T04:12:00.000-08:002010-03-14T07:27:16.253-07:00

Something disturbed my sleep - I looked around in the dark.  But before I even saw him, Master's hands took me, one grabbing my hair and the other clamped firmly over my mouth.  Uh-oh.  There was no rush of excitement or fear - just the awareness that I had pissed him off.  And whatever he was about to do, it wasn't going to be very comfortable. He walked me outside, leading me by my hair,

nadihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13789688686929932059noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1821553691229017085.post-87527975758061162982010-01-22T06:17:00.000-08:002010-01-22T06:17:50.254-08:00

There's a kind of plumber's tool, but I don't know what it's called.   It's made of thick, rigid plastic.  One end is a  large, crimped cylinder wide enough to fit over any drain, and the other is a strong handle made for a tradesman-sized fist.  It's big.  And it really hurts having one shoved up your cunt. Master had an old friend over to fix a blocked drain in his kitchen today.  And as part

nadihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13789688686929932059noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1821553691229017085.post-8486200482295614892010-01-16T03:44:00.000-08:002010-01-16T03:45:42.116-08:00

How many times can I say it before it becomes a cliché? I love pain! There is nothing more refreshing, and calming, and liberating than being guided into position, holding still, and then being thoroughly hurt. It takes me to a clear space inside, where there is nothing but the sheer sensation and Master’s will, inching me closer and closer to nothingness. The secret, I’ve discovered, is to say

nadihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13789688686929932059noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1821553691229017085.post-34199408394961214632010-01-13T06:46:00.000-08:002010-01-13T06:46:16.957-08:00

If I like watching videos of women getting bound and whipped, does that make me a danger to children?  According to our government I am. It's a strange circumstance, wanting the world to see what a dirty slut I am, and yet having to maintain a "professional" persona each day.  Although I don't work with kids, I require clearance confirming I am safe with them.  And that means proving there is no

nadihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13789688686929932059noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1821553691229017085.post-56563385228967939032010-01-03T07:26:00.000-08:002010-01-03T07:26:59.823-08:00

It was six months ago that I last blogged, and it was pretty clear I was struggling.  Not just struggling to write, though that was true - I was struggling to subsist.  Even now, the reasons why are hazy.  But where it led me, where I am now, and why... that much makes sense.  Perhaps this is why, to tell the story, I think it best to start at the point where things began to make sense again...

nadihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13789688686929932059noreply@blogger.com0