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

Attribution Error

Healing comes from the inside, born of love and forgiveness.

On Silence and Threats
I can do a decade standing on my head.
But we both know that’s a lie.
I’ll be standing on my feet the entire time,
slowly snowed over with Kleenex’s.

Finely solved the whole dream issue of why it hurts so much to not have a Master…
because I had not stopped to look at what I have and to appreciate what I do have. Instead I stared long into the past and let that pain eat me instead of looking forward to building my future.

And I’m weird. I have everything I need to keep and enforce boundaries yet I step aside to allow Isa to be what she is, soft hearted. But I am the core of steel that protects her. A Master must be my equal or better for anything less will continue to cause Isa damage. There are a few odd rules involved. I’m not interested in changing the person. I will deliver a hearty smack down to idiots that cause harm but that’s punishment. If the person is to change, they must do it on their and for their own reasons. I’m not buying the idea that we change because we want the other person to love us more. Just, no.

I don’t tend to peep up and ask questions. I prefer to record and observe. This leads to many interesting observations and unusual conclusions. Which means I need more communication that normal, openness given results in openness returned.

And from now, that have to be able to deal with me. On my level. Isa might/may be their slave but I am not. I’m not always out because I am cleaning up another mess. I am capable of playing nice and acting as support role for Isa. But if I keep getting dragged out on clean up duty, then something is Fucking Wrong! Sense I am not going, I get to take the garbage out. Just don’t be garbage. Easy.

And I’m tired. Tired of prying Isa’s fingers off time and again. Tired of what I know comes after. Tired of being the bad guy, every time. Tried of doing what I know is right. She makes it hard to stay in the front. And today is one of those days where I wish I could just separate from her, like conjoined twins having surgery. There is nothing I know of that can do that. And stop right there, integration is not the answer.

It’s funny, the more I get to look at all of this, I just want to slap her. It’s so obvious that he doesn’t love her like she feels for him. She’s probably nothing more than Replacement Object #4,635; just another voice assigned with the same name, same duties. So she lied. Yup, she lied big time. No, we are not all in. It’s just her. Me, I’m tired of the cycle. I’m tired of being monkey in the middle. We gave integration a shot a long time ago and when it broke, things were worse than before. He has failed to prove he knows how to deal with all of us. All I can say to that is this; there are easier fish in the sea.

Owning a slave that has DID is a pain in the ass. I know because we are a lovable pain in the ass to our husband and boy. Twenty plus years with both of them, they’ve been there from before knowing and stayed and supported us after knowing. They did the work to gain a relationship with me. They did the work to earn a measure of trust, with me.

The buck stops with me, no matter how many times I am willing and happy to step back to let Isa just be. I don’t have her innocence or joy. I don’t have her starry eyed enthusiasm. I don’t have her child like wonder. I don’t have her sensuality. I don’t have the depth of her emotions. I don’t even have her laughter. What I do have, is an appreciation of everything she is and the will and strength to protect her. Even when it’s gonna cut her heart out again.

Hard Limits

Another lovely post neglected in my drafts folder sense Nov 18, 2018. 

I realized I’ve never sat down and written them out. Oddly, after receiving a few emails here, I need too. I doubt that this will prevent those kinds of boundary crossing emails but at least I can point to it and say, hey, they were listed in the profile if you bothered to look. Having a relationship with me or even playing with me is high risk. I have more than enough trauma in my past that I am still finding triggers. I have CPTSD and DID. It’s more than enough trouble to deal with on most days.

These are my hard limits.

Oral sex – I am not into receiving oral. I don’t have issues giving blow jobs.

Cum on my skin – Inside of me or not at all. If it gets on me, you better get it off quick. This will not change. I have attempted behavior modification and this will not change.
Peanut butter or similar consistences on my skin – yes I am a tyrant about the peanut butter knife in the sink. If you eat peanut butter, keep your items clean.

Scat and vomit play – no, just no.

Force feedings – Don’t even try it.

Attempting to startle me – will end up with a punch in the face and me looking at you like you are stupid. I have CPTSD.

Knife play and Gunplay – is out. Again, CPTSD.

Face slapping – again, I have CPTSD. I really don’t want to have to take you to the hospital afterward.

Choking – again, I have CPTSD, so no, don’t do it.

Any form of blood play – You are not using mine and I don’t want someone else’s on me.

Deep bruising – This is out for medical reasons, high blood pressure that’s medicated and the fact I have factor V Levin, a blood clotting disorder.

Purple body parts – Medical. Seriously, don’t disrupt my circulation.

Nerve tingles/prickles – Often in the joints due to pinched nerves so avoid.

Hitting Aiming for the Sciatic nerve – WTF Asshole!

No physical blows above the shoulders – Do I have to really explain this one?

Drinking and drugs – I don’t drink socially and I don’t want drugs anywhere near me. Don’t push me on this. Again, CPTSD.

Using the term ‘Daddy’ – just no. I am unable to reconcile my childhood sexual abuse with this term.

Using the term ‘little girl’ – just no. Same as above.

No Tequila ever – seriously this is big bad juju.

Yelling – Don’t be a yeller in an argument with me. Everything falls apart and is super hard to get back on track, this goes back to childhood abuse.

Asking me to find another slave for you – No, no, and no. I am poly but that is a giant fuck no.

FinDom – Forget it. I work, I get paid. If I don’t get paid, I ain’t there.

Drinking urine – This is out for medical reasons. My kidneys are not your play toys. They are my blood filters and they have more than enough to deal with.

Forced Vegan – No. But I do love eating my vegetables.

Forced to change religion or political stance – No.

Mind reading Doms – I see in your future plenty of disappointment. Just don’t.

Expecting me to submit to a woman – This is not in my nature, not even to please my Dom, Master, Top, Husband, what have you.

Sailor Moon, Barney, Sponge Bob Square Pants and PewDiePie – are words of giant disrespect and not tolerated at all.

Singing the Peanut Butter Jelly Time song – will earn you singledom as I walk away.

No Cam, No Pics – Don’t ask. Don’t beg. I roll my eyes every time I get this and yeah, I don’t give this shit out.

Black and White thinking – The whole my way or the highway thinking rubs me so wrong, if this is you, save us some time, keep walking. Don’t even go with the whole, that’s what a Master is either.

Taking everything personal – If this is a constant trait, I will be gone. Then you can take that personal.

Play Day!

It’s Friday! So we pulled out the stuff and got set back up on Mixer to stream. I’m a big Minecraft player so that’s what I’ll be doing for quite a bit. The replay is a bit over an hour long. I think it’s a good length for starting out.

So if you’re interested, check it out. And if you like watching streamers, follow me on Mixer!


I need a decision tree.

How do you decide on which narrative is correct?

This has bothered me for sometime. At this point I refuse to assign blame and fault  in discussing the failed relationship with Dreamwalker. I am saying there were deep problems and perhaps they represent incompatibility overall. However, I am refusing to assign the narrative of ‘abusive Master’.

There is a couple of reasons for this. Being DID I am now far more aware how a single event can be interpreted thought a variety of lens and viewpoints that still do not detracted from the bare facts of the event. If anything, the lens add on nuisances of meaning that may not belong or may not be appropriate. It is this problem we as a system is wrestling with. How do we determine which meaning is appropriate?

When it comes to Dreamwalker, I am undecided when it comes to applying any label. Let me explain why before I am dismissed as being too Stockholm syndromed.

There was growth. That bothers me because growth occurs under specific circumstances, one of which does not include abuse. I keep getting the image in my mind of the emotions and plant growth experiment. The short of it is, the plants focused on negatively were stunted and sick and those plants focused on positively, flourished. This is an extremely simplistic viewpoint but I have to wonder where that applies to us as a system. Abuse would have stunted us. But we grew, so can I postulate that there was love?

I have to consider that due to our background of abuse and the regular testing (last six months) that I do tracking specifically my attachment style, (avoidant and detached: test here) that someone showing us love could be interpreted extremely negatively.

I know Isabella used one particular event that I can say was perhaps a case of misjudgment on his part. I could even extend that it might be an understandable misjudgment.  I know setting the narrative can set up confirmation bias. I know feelings isn’t facts. I know feelings change. I know how drastically different the same event can be interpreted as I battle with this daily with my headmates.

My biggest challenge is twofold. How do I honor the growth that I’ve gained from here? How do I determine which narrative is the truth?

Utter Obedience

Offerings from our Writing Workbook: February 2016
by: The Peanut Gallery which is all of us. 

Utter Obedience

I had no conception of what it meant. I had no way for forming it’s shape.

I was agreeing and not understanding one bit. He has a point, I am swift to anger and that needs to change. I miss his hand on my life. I should have asked a ton more questions. Questions I more likely will never have answers too. Like why did he force girls away? What did they lie about? Why did they not want to go? Is that what I could expect too? What made the good ones, good?

His expectation of obedience within his limits upon meeting made it hard to open up and talk. It was domineering. It was not conducive to inspiration. It was traumatic. I’m not the only girl who’s ran. Plenty have run before me and plenty will run after me.

Only now I am starting to understand. Utter Obedience to him is the price to stay in his life. Is he worth it now that I know what it means?

Why am I not worth bending for? Oh but he did bend, very much so. But not on that single topic. I see now he gave me chance after chance after chance. I was blind to the meaning.

My first fears have bloomed, come to fruit and ripened. My love has caused hurt. My presence has caused hurt. I have caused hurt. I have caused my own hurt as surly as if I beat my head against a brick wall.

I didn’t understand that I didn’t understand.

Utter Obedience carried out to the max degree is a terrifying thought. I ran. How can he want this from me, from any women?

I never stopped till now to ask questions. Do I want to give obedience, utterly? Does it scream in me to obey?

I can only weep at my answers.

Now I am numb to whole idea of submission. I am numb to the idea of obedience. I am numb to the idea of D/s. I am numb to it all. I see my life stretched out as a wide yawn of time and I am afraid it’s bleak. I lost a dream at his feet.

The reality of it is far more than I can handle. I should be glad to know the reality of myself. Yet I am sad. My innocence was ripped away. I am afraid I will go on walking in life with a hole inside me that has no hope of ever being filled.

I am not naturally obedient. I am a rebel, a contrarian. I ask why before I do. I look at the issue, topic, task before I decide if I am going to follow through.

You told me it was forever. That I could never have another Master, that not even in death was this bond broken. Why? That even if the silence stretched out forever, I could never seek another. Why?

All I had to do was obey. It sounds simple. It sounds easy. Yet it’s not easy, it’s not that simple. It is hard hard work. Having to tear down each wall, each part of me that I try to protect. That I would be open and vulnerable, flayed wide open without a safe word, without a safety net, nothing to keep me safe.

He’s always on. He never second guesses himself. He doesn’t see how to do this differently. I thought maybe I could show him. I was wrong. Instead he showed me so much more. He exposed me to me and left me soul scared.

Live. Be happy. Pursue your dreams. Obey your desires. Obey your desire to serve.

I am having to learn a lot more. Learn to speak honestly. Learn what honesty is. Learn to live with integrity. There is really nothing more to do but learn the lessons and go on. I am not the same as I once was. I can never go back to being that woman again. She is gone.

One Hour at the Kitchen Table

“Autumn, I still don’t want to do this. You still have this place flicking between the kitchen and that leather sofa.”

“Isa, I believe this is worth the effort. This place hasn’t been solid since the void after the space station. I’m glad that it’s still functioning at all. I was worried we lost it for good. Which do you prefer?”

“I like the kitchen. The sun shines through the window. I know it’s small but it’s just the two of us for now. It feels like there could be more. I can see grass and trees beyond the window. It’s peaceful just to look out there.”

“Alright. I’ll do my best to focus on staying in the kitchen.”

“Thank you. You just flickered it to the sofa again, I know you are trying.”

I make an effort to think back to the kitchen and pour myself a cup of coffee. Square table, hard chairs; it is a tiny kitchen, more of what I’d expect in a cottage. I pull out the chair and sit. She’s sitting down with her fingers interlaced looking out the window. Why are we here in this place; what does it represent? “Better?”


“I want to explore your relationship with being a slave.” I pause. I really want to explore what I suspect, that it is a role she’s used to keep from having meaningful and intimate relationships. I see puzzle pieces in her journal and she’s the only one who can explain them. “Can you remember the first time you embraced the word ‘slave’?”

She frowns at me and shakes her head. “It wasn’t with Aries. I mean that was the core impulse but it wasn’t slave-like. It was, I wanted to please him. It was desperate and happiness and it made me feel good like I was worth something. ”

Isa stands up and sets the kettle to boil. As she leans against the counter, I watch the emotions cross her face, confusion, sadness, and avoidance. “It was with my husband before we married. You know the fights we had. You caused most of them. And I was left trying to figure out how to be better, to be what he wanted. All that was left for me was to become what it was he wanted. And it didn’t work. He didn’t want a slave at all!”

I nod and look down. I don’t want to face my own role in that, not yet anyway. The truth is I abandoned her too many times and left her on her own. Cradling my cup I sip, contemplating what to say. “What does it mean to be a slave to you?” A heartbeat of time passes “I mean, is being a slave the same as being in a relationship to you?

“What? No. Of course, it’s not the same as being in a relationship. How could it be? I get told what to do, what to think, how to be. None of that has any meaning in a relationship. ‘I’ don’t matter, you know. It’s what I can do, what I provide that matters.”

The whistle shrieks and Isa turns off the stove. She pours the water into her cup and comes back to the table and sits down. “Being a slave, Autumn, it gave me a place where I belonged. I was safe as long as I was good and obedient. It was a role I thought I knew the rules too.” Stirring her tea for a long moment before she looks at me, “I want to make people happy and take care of them. That way I am taken care of and kept safe. It just didn’t work out that way. Every time I got upset, you came out and kicked the world apart. All I was trying to do was box up the pain and keep it inside. It didn’t matter that I was hurt. They were happy. If they knew I was hurt, they would be hurt and I didn’t want that. If they knew I was hurt, they would use that against me. They could find have found a way to hurt me more.”

I want to hug her and I sit there holding my cup. What had she said ‘they would hurt her,’ hmm, there is something deeper here. It’s a distracting tangent. “Isa, what is a relationship to you?”

She sticks her finger in her tea and grimaces. “Autumn, a relationship is a lot of give and take. I give and they take. But when it’s my turn to take, it goes crazy. I know what I want. I want to be able to be me and still loved for it. I want to be able to devote everything I am but on my own terms. I want it to be acceptable that I have needs and not have to do everything on my own. I want to be able to show my soft belly and know I won’t be hurt for it. I want to be able to say ‘that hurts. can you help fix this with me.’ Is it so wrong to want a partner, an equal, a playmate in life? Isn’t that what a relationship is all about?”