Off in my own world(s)

Sometimes my life is a little silly. Last few weeks I’ve been struggling with keeping a streaming schedule. Hmm, I stream Minecraft gameplay on Mixer. I do it for fun. I do it so I get used to talking to people again. I do it to give the kids in me a chance to let loose and play. Sometimes they don’t want to play. Those are the days my streaming gets very boring. lol

Minecraft 1.14 came out yesterday so there all sorts of new things to mess around with. Some things made me very very unhappy. Some things are just cool. So that’s what I’ve been doing. Playing on the backend of things again. Working on a few modpacks I’m developing and playtesting. Had taken a break and played some good modpacks.

I’m just a casual player. I like making things. All of this is…fun.

My Minecraft World

You Are Full of It.

This is a lightly edited reposting of a “thing” I posted on FetLife.

Coercive power structures.

Lots of things in life just don’t translate. I would hope that most can recognize the dangers of a group pressuring an individual to conform to group standards, but I won’t hold my breath. I’m not into that kind of breath play.

Today on Fet, there has been a number of interesting posts about handling criticism, from group to individual level. My ax is totally ground on the group level.

I’ll make this super simple. So you’re the group leader and you want to ban someone. I hope you have some sort of rules, bylaws, something to reference so when you inform the person of their ban, you then cite the problem issue.

That’s it. Done. Don’t drag it out. You don’t want that person around anyway. That’s what banning is. But that’s not how I see it being used.

What I am seeing is this; Group says…if you don’t do this x, y and z then we will exclude you for x amount of time or until you change and comply with x, y, and z and by the way, none of this is covered in the bylaws, rules or anywhere. That sends a clear ass message-submit or leave. Well, Fuck You.

And organizers wonder why some people get seriously ticked the fuck off?
Fix your rules and bylaws. Stay on target. Don’t flinch.

But wait, that’s not the real issue here, is it? That action is like ban-lite or even a pre-ban, isn’t it? It’s the, you broke a rule and get slapped on the wrist, say your sorry and come get hugs. But that’s not the issue, not really.

It’s deeper than that. Much deeper. Some things are clear cut. I don’t want a known rapist attending a munch I organize. I won’t invite a stalker to my house for an event. And I’m a dick. I won’t let the drama brigade cross my threshold. That’s all me, an individual dealing with other individuals. But groups are a creature weird, different and strange and already screwed up.

Small Group Dynamics aka. “the local community”

The larger the group structure, the greater the power plays it contains.

Humans are weird. There is a general lack of consense for social norms, for traditions, for values: group or individual, for any number of things. But they form groups to set a standard in the things the group finds important. And then they enforce their own values and rules upon its members. Most of the time, this is agreed upon. Sometimes, someone takes exception. And this leads to a second factor dealing with bans.

You are a Heretic. Shame! Shame! Shame!

Ah, so you’re the one facing a group ban. You stepped on someone’s toes. You threaten to upset the power structure and naturally, you were removed from the group. Sorry, but your lack of foresight led to this. Really, does anyone believe that when Martin Luther nailed his points on the church door, that the church wouldn’t strike back and strike back hard? It was just the hill he felt was worth dying on.

And it split the group. Welcome to the next level of group evolution. Congratulations, you just birthed a splinter group. If you fail to act fast and with love and humility you just might lose any control of your ideological child. Eh, well, groups rarely make good parents. It can happen. Maybe it can happen to you. Worth a shot? Make a friend now so you don’t have an enemy later, hmm?

The Takeaway

You can only do so much. You can’t stop peoples’ dickish behavior. You can set boundaries, ie. rules. You can hold those boundaries, ie. enforce the rules. Too often, anything more than that or less than that creates the dreaded drama monster. That drama monster can eat the entire community for breakfast.


It takes a Dick to herd cats. It takes a Dick with rules to run a community.
And some Dick’s just aren’t worth dealing with.

Yup. No advice here, none given. Just commentary.

Truth is I’m not doing okay.

I’m just not doing okay. I feel like I lost something essential to my existence. There is no drive to do anything. Very small acts of service are barely keeping me afloat. I made Red Lentil Dal yesterday, homemade and it was good. I was proud and pleased that my husband liked it. He enjoys good food and it made him happy. It’s one of the few things I do that I hear anything close to praise and I recognize how much I need that, that praise. I have so many issues with praise it’s ridiculous. The rest of my life is empty.

A few months back I cut a good deal of my on-line social life off. I stopped writing. I stopped blogging. I closed my blogs. I’ve been running hard out away from someone when I’ve been conflicted about them. I know I’m all messed up in the head. I know I don’t react like expected. I know I’ve created more mess and dramas in my life than I ever wanted.

I abandoned the belief that I am a slave. I abandoned that part of me as well. I am struggling to function now. I feel like I hacked off my arms. I lost something that day.

I took the idea that maybe I’m too co-dependent and that needs working on. I took the idea that I can survive without a Master and I am finding now that my purpose has always been something set outside of myself and never for myself. In rejecting being a slave, I’m not even able to find comfort in the idea of taking care of myself because I’m kept in holding for a Master to come. I find I have no comfort standing alone. I find purpose fleeting once accomplished. The task on hand only matters when it has nothing to do with me.

I know I’m not doing okay. This isn’t like depression, not any depression I’ve ever experienced. It’s like I’ve been infected with the “I don’t care” but it’s focused on me. I know I’m still grieving losing Master.
Somehow I got too tied up into what he thought of me. But I rejected being a slave. But I rejected him. But I rejected all of this. I rejected embracing being co-dependent. I rejected and I rejected and I rejected.

What’s the point? I just not doing good. I don’t know how to kick my ass enough to care. I don’t know how to break out of this cycle. I don’t know how to give a shit about myself. Fake it till you make it hasn’t started working. I’m faking it badly. I’m tired. What if I was wrong? What if I can’t cut that part of me without losing everything that I am? What if I really do need a Master?

How can I be wrong when being a slave is a choice? I choose to walk away. I choose to cut that part of my life out. I choose. I’m finding I didn’t have the parts to replace what I cut away and they are either atrophied or not growing fast enough.

Being defiantly me.

Been doing a lot of thinking lately, mostly about the past and how things don’t jive. And I ended up chuckling over a memory that when I look back is funny as hell to me. It wasn’t funny at the time. My 6th, double 7th and 8th grades were some of the worst in my life. They are the worst years of my schooling. It’s also when the sexual abuse was at it’s height.

We had mastery tests back then. My 7th grades tests tossed the teachers for a loop. I aced the English portion but the math portion said I needed to go back to kindergarten. Of course I failed and repeated that grade. The second time I took the test, the reverse happened. I aced the Math but sunk the English so bad it said I needed to retake the 3rd grade. For some reason, the English department took serious offense.

The whole department was on my case and it felt like harassment. At that time in my life my hands and feet were at their worst. I have a form of juvenile dermatitis, (though I believe keratolysis exfoliativa should have been added to the diagnose but this was the ‘80’s after all) which my hands and feet peeled skin, cracked open showed my meat and bled. My hands were raw, red and almost always fighting infections. Walking and writing were painful. I had to fight for simple accommodations, like being handed the sheets the teacher used on the overhead projector so I continue copying them as I was slower than the rest of the class, like being allowed to turn in typed assignments instead of handwritten ones, to being allowed to tape record the lessons so I didn’t have to copy everything down by hand. Even with all these issues, having lost my mother the summer between 5th and 6th grade, having to go home and take care of the house and prepare for everyone coming home (all house chores fell on my shoulders including cooking and watching after my little sisters) I attended school rather sporadically. I missed about 78 days that year and in 8th I missed over 86 plus days and I passed that year too. I’m rather proud of that fact.

To say I was defiant to their efforts is an understatement. I was called into a meeting of the English department mid year. They wanted to discuss my academics and behavior. They wanted me to put more effort into being in school and in doing my work. As was standard for the time, they pulled out what they called a student contract. In it, it was outlined a simple affirmation that I would commit to doing my best to do uphold my grades and get my assignments in on time and attend school. (Failure to do so would result in in-school detention and possible suspension.) The remarkable thing to all this, is I had to fight my way up to the school board just for the few accommodations I had received. I was hated by my classmates and was attacked often inside school. I was already an outcast. The prescribed lanolin cream used for my skin was not odorless so I was the ‘stinky’ kid. I smelled like a sheep. I had teachers lie (this was proven over and over) about what I had done (which ended up with me taking a lie detector test to prove my innocence). Yet, I had the whole English department on my heals. Those test scores from the previous year, that’s all I can figure, those test scores were top of the class for the whole school. I was the ace English student and I was sinking hard. (I was one of five ace English students out of my elementary school.)

But they put this contract in front of me. Simple stuff, I read it. They wanted me to sign it. I told them I wasn’t going to sign it. I watched them sit there stunned. I told them that this was a contract and as a minor any contract I sign is null in void and thus I would not sign it. I watched as their brains fell out in incredulousness. I told them if they want that signed it would have to be my father to do so as I was not signing it. The bell rang and I got up saying I have to get to my next class and left the room. I was quickly surrounded by the entire English department walking with me to my class, doing their best to convince me that I needed to sign this, that I needed to make an effort to do better. To say their words fell of deaf ears would be to mis-characterize the situation. I heard them and I heard the subtext in-between. Not a single one of them asked me what was going on. Not a single one of them reached out to me as a person. Not a single one of them ever showed kindness to me. Not a single one. I was the failing English star who somehow had pull with the school board and their jobs were at risk.

I look back at this and all I see is a giant red flag flying briskly in breeze. Somewhere between the two 7th grades I must have switched out. For me this explains why Isa had trouble with English from then on, as she was main front. I had retreated and this is my memory rather than hers. We all could see there was a huge problem. No one knew what to do and they manged to make things worse.

But this memory makes me laugh and shake my head. If they only knew what I know now, what would they have done? But damn, I had moments where I walked with my head held up high.

Airing out Dirty Laundry

Anger. It’s a powerful emotion. It is one I am finding saps my creativity like nothing else ever has. It’s been two days and I’m still so angry, I just don’t want to think about it. I start fuming and I get all prickly and touchy and I swear you could see the smoke pour out from my ears.

Aries. My boi. He would have gotten away with this with Isa but not with me. And he pulled this shit with me. This same man I’ve known sense I was 14, this man who blew my world apart last November with a bombshell confession, this same man who’s begged me for years to be my slave, this same who says he’s in love with me has pissed me to the highest levels possible. Those who know me, slink around in fear that this is ever zero’ed in on them. I hate watching them slink but right now it’s in everyone’s best interest to leave me the fuck alone. I am not calm. I’m seething.

A couple months back I took him on as a slave, got into deeper conversation even gave him simple assignments. Got nothing back. Not surprised. I didn’t even get a decent reason for it. I left him be. This is not unusual. Our talks are sporadic and always have been. One day he puts a need on the table, he needs the contact, frequent contact. Okay, this is something I can work with. A huge challenge for me as there is a thing as too much contact. Aries is a wanting daily contact and that’s way too much for me. But I can learn and adjust and seek that middle ground. I found a nice mix, about three days a week and once on weekend. Phone calls turned out to weight more for him so a few hours of my time to talk worked nice. Things were getting comfortable. We don’t live near each other anymore. And chances are we may never live near each other again. There is a lot of pain in that statement.

Aries started doing behavior I’ve had issues with in the past, the endless fantasizing and dragging me into it. It never mattered if it was about sex, or winning the lotto or just dreaming of living near each other or reliving what we had done in the past. I can only take so much of it, about 3 is where I flip out. I have issues with cycles and at three I kick in the stop the cycle. If I don’t I’ll get lost counting whatever it is, or repeating whatever it is. I will not follow him on this pointless fantasizing.

His wife doesn’t like his cross-dressing or his propendency to fantasize. But she’s happy with me filling in for whatever needs he has. I get it. It takes a lot of stress off her and she knows I’m not gonna run off with him. She cooks what he likes and I don’t. I still chuckle how it comes down to the kitchen and a man’s belly. But track… I work past my need to vanish with his cycling in fantasy and end up talking about what it means to him to be a slave. This is where things go off the rails.

He knew how serious I took this. I told him. And he’s just wanting bedroom sexy fun times with him directing all the things he wants to experience. That’s fine and dandy. But not with me. I’ve already been over this to hell and back with him. I’m not going to sit on the phone and talk about all the things we could do if we had the money or were closer. I’m not interested in bleeding my heart onto the pavement for him to get his rocks off. So, all this I’ll be your slave was just him doing whatever he thought it would take to get me to participate.

Then Sunday happened. I missed a few of my meds and payed for it painfully. I spent about three hours that morning having both my legs cramp and pull repeatedly. The pain knocks me back out and I sleep till they pull again, seven to eight times each. I manage to drag my ass up and pop a double of my pills and text Aries back. I let him know what was going on.

Me: Well hello. Sry I fell asleep last night and still waking up.

Aries: Its ok
Aries: In just bored and want my Autumn

Me: Sry

Aries: Not your fault. I moved away

Me: Let that go.

Aries: Ok

Me: I spent the last few hours with leg cramps from hell.

Aries: My stomach is turning

Me: Why?

Aries: Something I ate

Me: Oh

Aries: One of my coworkers game me a breakfast burrito that is not agreeing with me

Yes, that was a slow burn as I recognized it for what it was. I knew Aries was selfish but I had no idea how selfish he deeply is. I’m still fuming. Not once did the conversation ask me how I was doing or what had happened. Not once did I feel like there was any care or concern for me. And this is the man who dropped the bombshell on me that he was in love with me sense we were kids and he was too scared to admit it, the same man who chased and begged me for years to be my slave? What the hell is this?

If this is the love he’s got, it’s not worth piss.

Getting out of bed isn’t so bad.

It’s been a good day. The morning is a bit odd. There exists a twinge of compulsion from Isa but I push it back. I’m forcing her to break protocol and in essence disobey. I refuse to allow her to submit again. It must go though me to her or not at all. As I am the highest authority in the system anything less is counterfeit and will be removed. I had to express that. It tastes bitter on my tongue still even though it’s been a good day. Better than good, actually.

The daily routines are holding well. Adding limitations was the trick. She would work until hospital standards were met. Her body would collapse long before that was achieved. In many ways she has no concept of when enough is enough or when to stop. I exist as her limiter, then rules, then what is physically capable. sigh I feel her behind my eyeballs at times. She’s given me a bit of a heart by sharing with her. It hurts now to be the bad guy even when it is necessary.

Our husband brought us home a bike. It’s nice. I haven’t ridden in over 20 years and I still got on all shaky. Now we are a biking household! Four bikes, four folks and plenty of time in the sun. This feels good. More inner-connection, more shared activities. And Saturday, I’ll fire up my Minecraft server and we’ll all play together. I may even stream that. Maybe. I’m undecided.


I rarely talk about my relationships here. My boy Aries, oh he demands a lot of me! Long distance relationship though but we’ve known each other for a long long time. I provide for him what his wife does not, acceptance without judgment and control. (Now, you in the background who just choked on your drink, I see you.) He had chased me down for decades to be my slave. I had refused him so many times. How can I, do him any justice as a Mistress? How is he able to accept me switching out? How do I do this ethically? I still have a ton of questions. After I decided I would accept him, I called his wife and had a long chat and her blessings. There will always be limitations on this relationship because I am not a dick and have no intentions of destroying what he has.

And I have a ton to learn. I picked up Vile’s “The Breaking of Sabrina” ages ago. Fun read but more like a primer of everything not to do. I grabbed Malkinius’s “I Can Do This” and read it in a single night. That one left me with a lot of chewing thoughts. I found OWNING AND TRAINING A MALE SLAVE By Ingrid Bellemare and have been giving that look over. It really clashes with everything I believe about consensual enslavement. Oddly I don’t have a problem reading works set for Male dominance with female submissive and I think that’s because my boy is a bit gender-queer, kinda like me. I’m not finding much of value in Femdom and that’s perhaps I am revolted by the philosophy that our boys are worthless worms who are inferior to their Mistresses. I have learned to respect the strength of will it takes to be a slave.

Aries’ depth of patience and trust is incredible. It was him whom convinced me that we could do this. So he is mine and I do not take it lightly. So much more to learn and unlearn. I am learning to include him in my life on a daily basis. We are teaching each other. He needs the contact and I need him to be pleasing when he does as well as me being receptive to him in my life even at that level. He needs that touch of control more when his life is spinning out of control. I’ve seen how it calms him. And I still chuckle and shake my head at how all this has turned out. Aries was Isa’s first natural Dominant. He awoke in her the calling of her submission. And now I own him and he kneels for me. And who woke my inclination towards dominance: kindergarten and then in third grade a freckled red-headed little boy.

Life is indeed strange. I’ll be around more often. I may keep Isa devoted to poetry for a measure of time. We’ll see. wink