The ties that bind

The rope bit into her soft flesh. It gnawed and rubbed reminding her always of its presence. Her legs were singing in distress -made to remain in the same position for several hours, her muscles burned.

The gentle licks of pain reminded her of the inferno in her belly. Fueled by an overwhelming need to be shown her worth in bruises, marks and bondage, she revelled in the ache of her submission.

She loved the look in His eyes when He was waiting for her rope in hand ready to bed her down for the night. It was a look of warm amusement with a little glint of playfulness.He was never harsh, never wrapped the rope around her too tightly. He did it with care and concern for His possession.

She sat on the bed with her wrists and ankles together waiting for the caress of the rope. It always made her beam with happiness and her heart quickened.

The last piece of her bedtime ensemble was her leash. As He grabbed the end ready to attach it to her collar, she always tilted her head to the left and bowed her neck. She knew it would make it no easier for Him to attach her leash but her body did it of its own accord. It was a ritual that was part of her body and soul.

Once her breathing leveled out and she had her excitement at being ‘trussed up’ for the night under control, sleep came quickly.She always slept fitfully wrapped in her bonds.The links of the chain were cool against her cheek and after a few little tugs to test the security of her bonds, she drifted off. She would sometimes wake when He came to bed, comforted by His presence. And as she felt his hands check hers for warmth and circulation she smiled to herself.He could but wouldn’t hurt her.

To sleep perchance to dream….

I close my eyes to see

I wrote a story once about about a girl who was lying on a ledge dying. She’d fallen down and was waiting for death. Death came like an animal, panting over her broken body and she felt herself being consumed.

Rather intense stuff….lol.

There are always so many ways to describe things-the shadow is the consumate darkness..or it is just the absence of light?

The story was mainly about her struggle to release, to let go and embrace her fate. Interestingly enough I was thinking about this type of thing when I was 12.I always felt that there was a force keeping me on the ‘straight and narrow’, keeping me wound up nice and tight and that if I relented and let go there’d be no turning back. I’m not sure if I was more afraid of loosing the ‘good girl’ image and what people would think or whether it was fear of what I would become. But it was probably more the worry about what people were going to think of me and perhaps the fear of disappointing someone.

I think it is when we close our eyes and shut out all the excess distractions that we really are able to see who and what we are. Whether we choose to close our eyes and float where fate will take us is the leap of faith of a lifetime.


Master asked me yesterday what it was about being chained up or the idea of being put in a cage that tuned me on.
I was thinking about it for most of the day and believe I have come up with the answer.

At first I thought it was only the security and protection that they offered, but actually I decided that it more a case of them making me into something that I am not. Master suggested that it was because they are ‘place putting’ and in a sense this is true. They force me to depend upon Master-take away my freedom and leave me in many ways helpless. Having to depend on someone, anyone is something that I have always had an issue with and I guess it is because I have been let down so many times in my life. So chains and cages and things that restrict my freedom force me to depend upon Master, making me a person who must depend, making me into something I’m not.

And that is sweet in so many ways.


To everything there is a season, there is a ‘time’ for each and every thing in our lives. Having learned and understood this, all I need now is to see the schedule…

We’re always in a hurry to be somewhere, or do meet the deadline or else.Always working to some grand scheme that no-one seems to have really seen or knows why it exists.

We talk about waiting for when the time is ripe…or is that

The wax museum

The cooling smooth of the wooden table grounded her. It supported and held her fast, defying her wish to fall.

The harsh comfort of the rope encircling her wrists and ankles connected her. It fused and bound her, keeping her safe from herself.

“I’ll be needing an hour of your time later,” He said in His nonchalant tone that spoke volumes. “I’m going to tie you to the coffee table and then…”
It was something new.Something she didn’t know how to prepare for and something she didn’t know whether to embrace or cower from.

Hours later she was there..being told to undress and having a blindfold wrapped firmly over her eyes. The mind plays ingenous tricks in that darkness and she struggled to control her breathing.
“Come around this side and sit down. Lie back. Move over to the left and push yourself back.” As He positioned her on the table and she lay there naked and exposed, the excitement and worry filled her.

“How do you feel?” The oil He had rubbed on her tummy had her thinking. “Nervous and…nervous..and a little more nervous.”
He laughed.

She heard the drawer in the side of the coffee table being opened. “What’s in here?”
She’d seen the drawer ajar earlier and had had to force herself not to look.It was obviously something that He didn’t want her to see, but to feel.

It was hot.A sharp, stinging, searing heat. And she knew what it was.
She was His canvas and He was coloring her with a wax bodice of His own design.

It splattered and ran.Stinging and burning at the same time.She wanted to endure so she tried to get ‘inside’ the pain.
The music was loud in her ears, as it always was when she was revelling in the sensations given to her by her Master.
She focused not on the pain but on Him. She felt His aura and His presence and tried to bring that inside of her.
And for a time they were there in their ‘space’ together and the pain melted away in insignificance.She lay there still and peaceful in the moment that was theirs and theirs alone.

But then she saw His shadow move as the light changed through her blindfold. The wax caressed her side, below her breasts. The most tender of places and she lost her concentration. She was pulled out of their space and back to the present, squirming and twitching as the wax dug its claws into her. Her breathing became light and shallow again.

“You’ll tell me if it becomes too hot, won’t you?” She hadn’t been gagged for this reason. She liked to be gagged and have no way except the messages that her body gave out to coerce Him stop. She didn’t like having the power of controlling the moment. Better that He decide how much to bestow upon her as He divined the signs in the lines and rise of her body.

She could have been there for ten minutes or an hour. She never really knew how long things continued for and it wasn’t important. She was His to use, play with and gain pleasure from for as long as He wished.And it made her deeply happy that He was pleased enough with His possession to want to decorate her with His hands. His hands filled her with energy and had the power to set everything right in their world.

Spacing out

Space…the final frontier…these are the voyages of the starship kitten…….

I thought I should write a bit about subspace as I think that’s what I’ve been feeling a few times and I want to put down my feelings in writing.

I guess the easiest way to describe it is as ‘waves’.I’m not really sure where they come from but they wash over my head and down to my shoulders like shimmering resonances. My senses become heightened-especially sound and smell. I’ve generally got my eyes closed because I can’t keep them open anyway!

But the space is not something I ‘fall into’. I have to pull myself there, but that might change with practice. And hopefully one of these days I’ll be able to slip into subspace at the cut of a cane.

It’s a very spiritual thing. I like to have an empty stomach because I feel cleaner. I would like everything to be just so..just that is not generally the case and either should it be like that. Slavery and servitude wait for no man..or

Some things

“Some things are organic and take their time to become clear.

Sometimes they’re like Yoga poses. You hold the position you are in until you can’t hold it any more and you have to rest, and a new position will suggest itself.

Sometimes it’s like winter and it seems nothing new will grow.

Patience with yourself and with times of change is sometimes the best gift you can give yourself. ”

I’ve seen a lot of people ruin growth in their own lives by impatience and trampling fertile ground by pacing or frantic worrying or essentially doing the equivalent of digging up seeds to see if they’re growing. They rip the heart out of their chests to see if it’s beating, and then when it isn’t any more, of course it hurt and they were right, they’re dead inside now.

Some things to think about and work towards improving…