After much struggling over the past three years, one of my piercings finally gave up the ghost. Last week when I was cleaning it I noticed it was a bit of strange colour. Further inspection lead me to realise that it was actually the colour of the stainless post I could see through the skin. It had migrated out to the point that the barbell was being held in there by nothing but a millimetre or so of skin and last night I decided that rather than have it drop off at an unfortunate time, say when I’m standing in a peak hour train or something, that it might be best to remove it now.
I showed Master on the weekend what was happening and he was of the opinion that I should take it out.
‘Afterall,’ he said, ‘We can just wait a couple of months and get it re-pierced.’
(Don’t you just love his optimism?!?!?!?!?!?!!!!!!!!)
But I couldn’t do it on the weekend, it took me a couple more days of thinking about it before I could actually do the deed.
It sucks to have put up with it for three years and then just have it mosey on out of my labia. And what’s worse, is it was the one that was the least painful!!!! I would actually be happy if the other painful sucker migrated out, but no, the relatively pain-free one had to leave the building.
Now I haz a lop-sided cunt.
Today I asked Master whether he wanted me to take out the other one to balance things out (in truth, after smelling the sweet relief of having taken the other one, I wanted to see what it would be like to have the ouchie one out too…)
And he said,
*pauses for reaction*
Normally I’d be uberly excited about the possiblity of removing my cunt rings. Dreams of being cunt ring-free interrupt my sleep almost as frequently as dreams of the perfect baked cheesecake.
But then I did something stupid. I was going back through a few of my old entries and I saw this from Master:
“You knew that I want my slave pierced in her labia with rings and her buttocks tattooed for her property marks and you accepted that these things will be done by my will and command.
As discussed with you since then, I want these things completed and done, I want your body made mine permanently and completely, there shall be no doubt you’re a slave owned by me.
I want you to choose however when these things are done, I want them to be your gifts of submission to me, your sign of acceptance and happiness of your slavery.
I await for the time when you choose to complete yourself.”
He’d written that to me a couple of years back when I’d had a bit of a what I like to call a ‘slave lapse’ i.e. a total panic attack and emotional breakdown. I was freaking about everything that my slavery would entail and after experiencing the first piercings, I was dreading from the depths of my heart having to go back to get the remaining ones done.
So he wrote me that and let me choose when I would submit to the remaining piercings.
Yeah, I just had to go and read that, didn’t I?
Damn. Now I can’t bring myself to take the other one out.
And now I’m thinking about when I can get the other one re-pierced. Damn, damn, damn.