From today I no longer have a Japanese surname. Yes, I finally got my new passport after numerous interviews, phone calls and a couple of written statutory declarations. Due to both my marriage and divorce never being recorded in Australia, explaining why I had a Japanese surname on my old passport turned into a huge drama. I had to go through the gory details of my marriage and divorce numerous times and it was all quite unsettling. But at least I’m got a new passport if I quickly need to depart the country once my current 25 day moratorium on licking expires 🙂
Did I mention that Master promised not to lick me for 25 days and then 2 days later promptly licked me? No wonder I have trust issues…lol. However, he explained the licking incident as my fault due to my ‘neck making contact’ with his out-stretched tongue. I guess if he wants to be like that, the Mars bar up the twat incident could also be considered my fault as I ‘impaled’ myself on an uncovered Mars bar that he just happened to be holding near my cunt. I’ve decided that you really can’t win with a Master who negotiates, consults and advises for a living.
(Note to self: get a stupid owner with no case-building skills next time.)
As far as no longer having my married name on my passport goes, it was a very sobering moment when I looked at my new photo and the name next to it. I guess it was akin to realising four years ago that I would never just be a ‘single’ woman again – I’ll just forever be a divorcee. Unless, of course, I got married again and I think you and I both know that that won’t be happening.
Sold? Perhaps. Given away? Maybe. Married? No.
So, at the moment, I’m no longer who I used to be and quite unsure of who or what I am now. While Master might say that I’m ‘broken’ now because I actually got off my bike – mid-exercise session- to do his bidding this afternoon when he said, “Bitch, come lick my bum” (because he just likes to demonstrate his power by having me do pointless and embarrassing things at random like licking his bum or his feet), I personally feel there’s still a lot more of me to be broken and I’m still a long way off being the sort of mind-less, pliable thing I’ve always imagine a slave to be.
I think most of the time I think too much. This constant questioning and analysing I do may not be as constructive as I’d like it to be. Sometimes it can help me vent some stress or try to label my feelings, but quite often the “Why?” questions I ask are un-answerable and I get so caught up in my own head that I lose sight of what I am.
Is that all I really need to understand?