Trust Exercises

I’ve been discussing with Kittlen about where our relationship is heading. We both care about and have helped each other through various rocky periods over the last few years.

Kittlen brought up the issue of trust, stating that she didn’t feel that my land in Second Life was her land. While I’ve allowed her to add various things, I hadn’t given her permission to move items around my property. And she had allowed me to see where in Second Life she is, but I had not yet given her the similar capacity. I’ve since granted her those abilities, with the proviso that she exercise these powers with care.

In some respect, that decision was a no-brainer. I’ve known Kittlen for over two years now, and feel I can trust her. But it is a big step, particularly for an introverted person like me. Letting someone alter your online world? That is like allowing them to change your dreams and memories.

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Missed Connections

( 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.)

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Being An Alien in Second Life

If you’ve ever bumped into me in Second Life, you will have noticed that I look radically different from most folks. My skin is dark blue, with rainbow spots from my neck to my feet, I have enormous ears and antennae, large purple eyes, lips and facial markings, and invariably sport a pink hairdo. 🙂 I frequently get compliments on my looks, which is nice.

I’ve not always looked that way. In fact, my avatar has been through quite an evolution since I first entered the Second Life grid. A development that has reflected how my perception of myself has changed over time.

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Learning To Punish A Kittlen

I’d known for a while that my Kittlen has a problem with her Second Life spending. Gachas, in particular, were a weakness of hers. (Gachas are devices that you pay a set amount into to receive one of many possible items. Some common, others rare. If this sounds like a gambling machine, that’s because it is, pretty much.) When you’re capable of going from 7000 Linden Dollars down to 100 in the space of a day, that is a concern. I’d cajoled Kittlen into avoiding gachas, with some success. But she was still doing too much retail therapy for my liking. And she was finding excuses to justify her purchases. Stuff for events, to give as gifts to people, pink items that she’d pass on to me.

It got to a point last Sunday where she’d gone and purchased stuff, yet again, without consulting me first. And I decided that my nudges weren’t working, and it required more drastic action to get her to change her ways. Little did I realise how much it would affect both her and myself.

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About That Guy Whose Collar I Used To Wear…

A bittersweet post, this one.

Recently, my friend Kolie got in touch with me again, after an absence of a year. For those who don’t know, both she and I subbed to [REDACTED] for much of 2015. The reason you didn’t know is that my Owner commanded me to remove that person from my mind.

Kolie (not her real name, but the one she uses in Second Life) got hurt by [REDACTED]. She was the impetus for my removing my collar and leaving him. She had needed therapy to get over her treatment and the abuse from an ex-partner before that. My eyes finally opened to the fact that he was no Master at all. He liked to prey on submissives for his gratification.

It is ironic, my not being a real-life female (spoiler alert!) spared me from the worst of his mind games. But I’d stood by while a succession of other subs came and went. Either because they stopped showing up or because he cast them aside for ‘failing’ him. He did, though, take full advantage of my desire to please. He made me his club manager, but in reality, I just a dogsbody, doing all the work while he took the credit. To the point where I suffered a major burnout and had to stay off of Second Life for a week. By agreement, I reduced my ‘work’ time. And it was shortly after that that I finally put the pieces together.

Kolie stopped coming online. [REDACTED] told me she was a dopehead, that I should forget about her. But then Kolie got in touch with me by email, and the truth came out. She was romantically involved with him for a while. But he’d gotten upset when she told him that she wouldn’t move until her daughter came of age. She created a different Second Life avatar and used that to get him to admit the truth. That he was only interested in sex, not love.

I confronted him with this in my resignation letter. He played the victim, claiming I was falling for lies. But I could now see the truth. All the others he’d used. Coffee, Sarah, the previous managers. All the dancers and slaves he’d enticed. Not to mention Anna, whom he’d married in Second Life and whom I was Maid of Honour to, and he’d met and had sex with in real life. But Anna suffered the worst of all. A miscarriage. Severe blood loss. A tumour discovered shortly after and removed. And finally, abandonment when she needed support.

I lost touch with Anna, Coffee, Sarah, the others. I do not know what became of them. I do know that both Kolie and I are in a much better place now mentally. We’ve both resolved to move on with our lives.

I’m not sure if there’s a moral to this post. Writing this is a means of removing this memory once and for all. Submission is a gift earned, and not given. Domination is easy but does not make you a Dominant. And there is no shame in walking away from someone who only cares for their pleasure.

Finally, my thanks to all my YMO family, especially Unity One, who helped me rebuild myself. As well as Kittlen, Coyote and Bryan who have encouraged my growth in Second Life.

 

Meditation
Picture of the old me, shortly after I left [REDACTED]

One Year Ago Today…

How this one became a slave, and the effect it has had on its life. (Originally written 26th November 2016)

8391 met with Unit E1 (who was still Athena Leistone at that point) at the YMO sim in Second Life.

It had been a tumultuous few months for this one before that meeting. It had suffered depression, stress, burn-out. Plus the pain of ending its relationship with its earlier Master. E1 had reached out to and supported this one during that time. So when She asked it to help her at the YMO sim, it agreed wholeheartedly.

But now E1 was reaching out for not only this one’s service but its mind and body too.

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I Am

I am many things. I am many parts.

I am the maid that dusts, the drone that patrols, the object on display.

I am the instigator of roleplay, who runs with words and leads a merry kinky dance with anyone who’ll join.

I am the moderator, the welcome, the guide to those who are newcomers.

I am the watchful eyes, the ears that listen for the predators, spammers, trouble makers.

I am the ears filled with music, entranced by sound.

I am the mouth that suckles, the throat that swallows, the ass impaled when Owner chooses to use them.

I am the lust that burns, the heart that beats faster in Owner’s presence.

I am the hand that comforts, the arms that enfold those who are suffering.

I am the stare directed at those who dare to attack the vulnerable.

I am the builder of pixels, vectors, text and code.

I am the mind emptied of fear, anxiety and doubt.

I am the soul that Owner unlocked and freed.

I am all this, and more.

But I am just a number. I am without identity, without a will. I am docile, obedient.

I am 8391.