Events of the past several weeks have brought chaos into the world I live in.
Perhaps it's no surprise that the election of Donald Trump as President of the United States has left Ms. Julia quite angered. She's no Hillary Clinton supporter mind you, but certainly no Trump supporter. She's been glued to the television news channels for about a month now, following the election coverage, and now, the election fallout.
She's also been getting a lot of mileage out of me lately as well.
I guess all this has caused her to assert her feminism with me, in a more aggressive manner. There have been spanks with paddles and crops, restraints with cuffs and rope, some pretty tight arm twisting, pushing my head down into the mattress, and pegging of the most inconsiderate nature.
My nights have been spent laying in bed with her while she peruses the news channels and YouTube clips. I remain quiet while she watches, and then must listen attentively afterwards when she opines on each segment. I've learned how to respond in such ways to support her feelings, much of which she has taught me how to do.
But while all this has gone on, I've felt too worn out to update this blog, at least until now. Lingering in my thoughts is a malaise towards expressing my feelings. I'm trying hard to remove myself from the conversation, and instead respond only to Ms. Julia's input. For the most part, it's an intellectual exercise of remembering what to do, and letting it become part of my natural habit.
Meanwhile, there's an emotional side that drains me.
I still have this boy inside of me that wants to grow up into a man. I can feel him trying to put his foot down and demand a more dignified treatment. Yet, my existence here is not about me, but about her. I'm here to serve her. I exist to accompany her, to comfort her, to pamper her, and be used in any way she pleases. How do I reconcile this want for dignity?
When I was entering my first year of High School, my mother was going to accompany me to the registration event. I begged her not to go. I knew the other students would be there without their parents, and I didn't want them to think I still needed my mom's help to register me.
She was puzzled. It never dawned on her that I wanted to become self-sufficient. She still assumed that I was a kid who needed to be taken care of. She kept insisting on going with me, and I kept begging her not to go. She finally relented.
Sure enough at the registration event, there was not a single parent in sight. I was so glad I persisted!
But the point is that my mother actually believed I still needed to be treated like a helpless child, and thus far, had rarely allowed me to take responsibility for my own welfare. Somewhere in all that, my mind translated that into being incapable, or defective.
I still have that voice of doubt in me. "I can't do it", "I'm not good enough", I'm going to fail". Phrases like that bring about an emotional response of despondency. And even today, I often resign myself to moving out of the way of someone else's path, just because something keeps telling me that I'm the one who should give way.
If I am to remain here with Ms. Julia, I have to abandon this urge to put my foot down. Otherwise, I have to leave, and I don't how I am going to do that without any clothes, money, transportation, or any other place to go to.
There's one last interesting piece of news to share, however. Ms. Julia decided to remove the chastity cage. She mentioned that it now looks too masculine, which I think somehow has to do with her disgust over a male chauvinist President.
"I don't like seeing that cock flopping about, however", she added, after removing the device. "I'll have to figure out what to do."
