Missed Connections

Kittlen in her pet bed

( The events in this blog post took place between the 9th and 17th November 2017. )

This past week has not been great, for myself or Kittlen.

It should have been great. A chance for us both to recharge. But things didn’t turn out the way they should have.

(I had pushed myself too far, and, when telling my owner, she decided that I should have a mind vacation—a hypnotic trance that would last until midnight Sunday my time. Kittlen was not involved in the decision—she was told of it, and given no choice. She has permitted me to use her own words from her point of view. The entire journal, with our commentary to each other, may never see the light of the internet. It was a tool she used to help her get through.)

It had started on Thursday when we had been discussing role-play and Kittlen’s needs. She temporarily put me onto her objectification plinth, to help me understand how she feels when turned into a objet-d’art’. This in turn brought us around to my feelings of submissiveness towards Unity One, my Owner. It had been a long time since I’d been submissive, and Kittlen suggested that maybe I should ask Unity for some sub time.

Friday morning, I found Unity and told her that I’d like some sub time with her. It sounded like she had already spoken to Kittlen, and was aware of how much stress I had been under of late.

What happened next, though, was not what I’d expected, nor what Kittlen had wanted.

Unity took me away to a quiet spot somewhere and tranced me. (For those who may be skeptical, yes it is possible to hypnotize someone, if they wish to be. Unity has done this many times to me, so I know this is true.) She went into my head and dialed down my dominance completely, telling me that it would not return until midnight on Sunday. She also reverted me to my core persona, 8391. (As it turned out, that part didn’t last, as will become clear…)

Kittlen had already logged off when I came back up from the trance, so I never got to talk to her and explain what had just happened. This was a mistake on my part, a mistake that was going to have serious ramifications.

At first, I felt great. I was able to focus on other things. Then, around 3pm my time (7am in Kittlen’s time zone), she woke up and tried to connect with me.

The first day was pure hell.  Not being able to be in her arms.  Feeling a huge wall, and a warning about protocols initiated against 8391 becoming a dom again.  I was lost.

I tried to communicate with her, but it was a strain. I could tell that she wanted cuddles, but I didn’t want to risk becoming dominant again. That’s when the headaches started.

I managed to get through my DJ set at Old Guard that night, even made a decent amount of tips. Kittlen was with me, and we managed to laugh a bit. But she was quiet, too quiet. And afterward, we only stayed a while before I returned to my Second Life home and logged out for the night.

Saturday morning, I woke up and logged into Second Life to catch the end of Kittlen’s DJ set at YMO Galleria.

After my set… I needed her.  She was… gone… she was… she’s not the domme I love.  I still love her, but it… she feels… Distant. Like a computer…  One that I would probably bitch and moan at that it wasn’t working properly.

I was indeed distant. I was trying not to be dominant, to be disconnected.

I’ve seen how others get the drones to comply.  I’ve seen the drones comply without question to my own words when I’ve used them.  So I started to use them with her.

It worked.  I was able to communicate with her, and her back to me.

I couldn’t lie to her when she finally “broke character” and said she wanted me to be okay.

I’m not okay.  I wanted her to swoop me up into her arms and say it was only for a few days. It was temporary.

I should have spoken then, reassured her, but I was frozen, unable to process what to do, caught between conflicting directives.

Later on Saturday, I returned to my Second Life home and found the following.

Then, I went to her land… She wasn’t there.  I went to her hideaway in the sky and rezzed a pet bed. I rezzed a small teddy for me… and left myself logged in, so she could see how I was. In my mind, I was at the feet of my cough master’s bed, being the little slave girl I needed to be.

There was no roleplay. There was nothing I needed, but going to sleep with that visual… seeing her bed on my screen, and my pet bed right there… it helped. A bit.

I didn’t know what to say, whether to say anything, so I kept quiet and didn’t disturb her. Eventually, she logged out.

When I next logged in, it was gone. I was gutted and worried now.

Saturday night, I did my Armistice Day set at YMO. The somber subject suited my mood because I wasn’t really up to being that cheerful. Kittlen was there for most of it but wasn’t dancing with me. She had placed some poppy wreath, a poster of ‘In Flander’s Field’ and a veterans lamp by the DJ decks, and had wrangled me some more before the event, giving me a trance that Unity had done a few days.

Partway through my set, Kittlen went off to do the Midnight Madness freebies event and came back wearing a pink outfit. That is her way of showing her love for me since she won’t wear pink under normal circumstances. But I was too wrapped up in DJ-ing to notice. Then she had a fall—her husband contacted me to tell me what happened, and she was eventually able to get back to the computer.

After the set was over, I was sent off to do the Midnight Madness event, then rejoined Kittlen at my home. She put me into drone wrangler mode, to prevent me from becoming dominant again, and gave me the information she had been about to tell me before her fall. Her partner in Second Life, Coyote, was at the hospital, and couldn’t DJ, so Kittlen was potentially looking at doing 4 hours at Old Guard, followed by another 2 hours covering for Irish Breen on Gorean Whip Radio. We agreed that she should ask to do just 2 hours at Old Guard.

I asked her why she allowed me to wrangle her, and through her words and my own, I found out why: I’m one of the few she trusts.

Kittlen earned my trust the day, over a year ago, when I changed into my balloon avatar to cheer her up and let her hold my cord.

I told her that I had her unlock my collar for a reason.  When she is willing to be strong again for me, to be my owner again, she can lock the collar.

I wasn’t ready yet.

On Sunday morning, I joined Kittlen for a discussion. Irony—it was about self-care. I spoke on voice chat for a bit, which made Kittlen smile. I was allowed to stroke her belly, growing rounder with our Mama Allpa baby inside. It was the only part of her that I could safely touch. When I tried to kiss her, she froze up. (One of her internal defense mechanisms.) She let me know that she had a sore throat, slight cough, night sweats. I would probably need to take over from her at the CFNM Beach Party later.

Later, while she was asleep, I did a bit of retail therapy, taking advantage of a gift card and a sale, to get a new swing seat for my home in Second Life. I got in touch with Bryan (who manages at CFNM and handles the Sunday Beach Party, as well as hosting and moderating at Old Guard), and we discussed Kittlen. Bryan agreed that she has been working too many hours and that I should DJ the Beach Party at CFNM.

When Kittlen got back online again after sleeping, she wasn’t best pleased that I’d ganged up with Bryan against her, but relented since I’d had her well-being in mind.

She asked me to turn on my DJ stream and read to her for a while. I picked up my copy of “Lady Slings The Booze” by Spider Robinson, turned on my microphone, and read the first chapter out loud. I stumbled a few times, and couldn’t do the accents, but Kittlen enjoyed it, and it gave her some peace.

Later, after I’ve had supper, I go back to Second Life and join Kittlen and Coyote, who is back from the hospital and resting from being on lots of medication. Kittlen has her Divine Sadism group tag on, which makes me a bit nervous. That is the femdom sim where she occasionally goes to let her domme out. Per the name, it can be quite rough.

I kept my cool and sat with Kittlen while I get set up for CFNM. Just then, Irish Breen sent over the info pack that she’d promised me when she welcomed me to Gorean Whip Radio earlier in the week. I was thrown off course a bit because I realized I would need to set up my DJ streamer to access their server, but the info provided was for a different application. Kittlen got me to put that to one side and focus on CFNM for now.

She grabbed my hair and pulled me in for a kiss. I did not react. OK, her domme was probably still on. Then Kittlen slid a finger into the o-ring of my collar, pulled me to her, kissed my collar then my neck, chin, and lips. I pointed out to her that the finger through the o-ring and pull didn’t work on me the way it works on her. What I hadn’t clued in on was the significance of what she did subsequently.

As she commented to me later:

The significance of how I kissed you, was to show you that I still respected Unity’s authority over you as final. Your neck, chin, and lips, were me looking for arousal points.

Eventually, we went over to CFNM, and I started the party rolling. Bryan turned up a short while later to host. The party itself was OK, but the attendance, while good, seemed disinterested—I got few requests, little interest in the party theme (Hawaiian), and tips were slow to come in, though a late rally meant I at least took home a half-decent sum.

I was in full DJ mode now, relaxing at last. Then Kittlen sighed and stretched, and I offered to rub her shoulders. Big mistake! She rounded on me and verbally slapped me back. I threw my hands up and backed off.

Kittlen logged off before the end of the party. I would later find out that she went to bed and promptly passed out, due to a combination of illness and fatigue.

On Monday, things were slightly better. Kittlen wasn’t in Divine Mistress mode. I, on the other hand, still hadn’t reset after the weekend. Oh, I was trying to be dominant, but the events of Sunday, in particular, had shaken me badly and made me question my ability to dom Kittlen.

I stayed off of Second Life for most of the day, not venturing back until later afternoon. I did join Kittlen in the evening for the Xaara theme party. She gave me a pink belly-dancer outfit, and once again commented ruefully that one of her outfits looked better on me than it did on her.

The Xaara party went well, as usual. Bri, who designs the themed area each week, recreated a piece of ancient Egypt. Kittlen was busy DJ-ing but managed to get onto video call with me, and we had some fun between voiceovers by showing off our book collections to each other. I even did some reading to her while she was DJ-ing, but had to stop because the story I’d picked had some rude words in it and her kids were within earshot of her computer!

I did get some help from the Whip Radio team to get my DJ streamer set up but would have to wait until a quiet time to test it.

On Tuesday, I got a chance to test my DJ streamer against the Gorean Whip Radio server, while the auto-DJ was engaged. It didn’t work, reporting an invalid password. Josh, the on-duty website tech, wasn’t able to help but logged it so management would know.

Jay, the Whip’s founder, and general manager, subsequently contacted me to get more details. He checked the server and found that my login and password hadn’t gone in yet, so did a quick reset to make sure that happened.

I decided to leave that to one side and focus on other things. Which I did, until just before dinnertime, when Kittlen pointed out that the event calendar at Whip HQ in Second Life was showing me as due to play on that day, in just a few hours!

Cue a massive panic attack, as I struggled to get myself together. I had no playlist yet, nor did I have any promos, adverts or breaks sorted out. Kittlen got on a video call with me and talked me into using some binaurals from the YMO website to calm down, then contacted Whip management to let them know I needed help. Brett, the owner, got me hooked up to the Google Drive folder containing all of the audio stuff that I needed. After a lot of organizing, I had a playlist ready, and we agreed that I should go to Whip HQ in Second Life to do my inaugural show.

Kittlen stayed with me until it was time to start. Unfortunately, when I did try to start my stream, I ran straight into the same login error message. Cue a second panic attack! Kittlen was back immediately to reassure me while relaying info to Whip management about what was happening. I was getting despondent, feeling that I’d blown it completely. After a lot of puzzling, the culprit turned out to be the username, which should have started with a capital letter. I was finally on the air, albeit 20 minutes into my time-slot, so I hastily rejigged my playlist and switched to DJ mode.

When I finished my show, Kittlen brought me back to the YMO Galleria to show me all of the people who had been listening to me via the radio there, who told me I’d done a great job. That helped ease my frazzled mind somewhat, although my tensed-up shoulders were another matter. Sleep took a long time coming that night.

On Wednesday, I was still a bit sore from the previous night, and not even remotely back to my usual self. My confidence had taken a significant pounding. I had locked Kittlen’s collar the last day, as a way to try and assert my dominance, but I just wasn’t in the right mindset yet. Kittlen had prodded my mind a bit, and we both knew that Unity’s help would be required.

Kittlen asked me to record myself reading “Callahan’s Lady” by Spider Robinson, and share the recording with her, as she needed something to distract her when she went to the dentist. I also opened up my DJ stream for her, playing music and binaurals, so that she would have something to listen to that could calm her down. (Kittlen does not like dentist appointments!)

For my second show for Gorean Whip Radio, we opted for the familiarity of Old Guard. With the technical issues behind me and more time to prepare, I had a much better show that night. Jay stopped by to see us and check out the place, and Irish and some of the other DJs gave thumbs-up from the group chat. Coyote showed up too, and as I finished Eternatee arrived to do her weekly Old Guard set, along with Bryan who was hosting. Having friendly faces around me helped.

When I logged in on Thursday, Kittlen had discussed the situation with Unity, who had come up with a plan. With Kittlen’s help, I was to take another ‘mind vacation,’ but this time a shorter one. Instead of dialing down my dominant, the trance would dial down my thinking for a moment, so that I could de-stress. (Fortunately, I didn’t have much planned for that day that would require a lot of thought.)

This time, it was consensual.

This time, she agreed to let me be her wrangler.

This time, we were partners in letting her float and be where she needed to be.

See, I didn’t think she came up entirely from her owner’s trance, even though it was after the time.  Worse, the repercussions within her and with me were weighing on her mind.  She needed at least a day’s break.

I held her hand.  I slid her down. I brought her back to consciousness in her new trance state, and went to bed, once I was sure she was going to be okay for those hours I needed to crash.

She asked me to do another recording for her, and also got me doing some coloring on a drawing of hers. But then, as luck would have it, Jay popped up asking for help getting an advert put together, something that I regularly do as part of my day job. Kittlen got me to dial up again so I could tackle that, and dial down once I had completed it. I enjoyed the challenge, but the effect of ‘rubber-banding,’ as Kittlen calls it, did make my head hurt.

So, in the evening, she had me cuddle with her and slipped me back into a relaxed state. She cleared out my mind and installed a few safety protocols to ensure that I couldn’t harm her or myself if I ever needed to return to this place.

I slept well that night and woke up feeling refreshed. When I joined Kittlen in Second Life she had another trance ready for me, to bring me back to my usual self while installing some extra safety protocols. This time, they were for my well-being—one to help me if I get into emotional upheaval again, the other to help me deal with the pain and trauma that Kittlen has suffered and continued to experience. When I came back up, I felt different, better. Not my old self, but more stable and confident than I was before.

However, Kittlen now needs help from me. She has been in domme mode a long time, and is not yet at a point where she feels able or willing to submit to me and be ‘mine.’ But I’m at least in a position where I can offer that help. How long it takes, though, is another matter.

I also know that Kittlen can get into my head if needed, to help me out when I’m having trouble. She has made clear to me that she doesn’t want to unless absolutely, and reserves the right to say no. But knowing that she was able and willing to do that, to trance me and get my mind to where it needed to be, both reassures me and makes me proud of her.

Author: Supermarine Spitfire

Kinky Geeky Pansexual Genderqueer Gynoid. Does *Not* Transform Into A WW2 Fighter Plane

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