thinking [princess/property] thursday

He makes me feel like a princess, and like His property. 

If you ask me, I am no princess and I’m certainly not worthy of Sir’s admiration. He seems to think I hung the moon. He puts my happiness far ahead of His own… No… That’s not it… It feels like my happiness IS His happiness. He tries His hardest to give me all the things that would make me happy. Boots? Don’t worry, just buy them. Vacation? He’ll make it happen. Quit my meager job? No problem! He’ll pick up the slack. Extra loving? Done. Shoulder to cry on? Bring it. Listen to me on repeat? Patience and love is abundant. Whatever it is, big or small, He bends over backwards to do everything in His power to make sure I’m happy. I can’t dwell on it too often, because I’m soooo undeserving, but I know He loves me and would do anything for me. 

But you see, I love Him just the same.

He is no pushover, though! He may treat me like a princess, but He is well aware of my flaws and shortcomings. He never holds them against me, but He does help me face them, grow and overcome. His steadfast rules and firm hand (and spoon and belt and whip and…) keep me in line. He keeps me safe. He owns me. I am His property. 

I may be His prized possession, but be clear… I. Am. His. I aim to please Him. I want Him to be proud of me. I try to make sure He has what He needs and wants from me, from life.  That is what I am here for. Sure, that drive is part of my submission, but it’s also a part of marriage, of love. 

Everything is intertwined. Inseparable. The love, the D/s, the marriage, the life… It is all one. 

I am tickled pink to be His princess (no! He doesn’t call me this!) and His property all wrapped up in a somewhat stubborn, bratty package. It’s the best of everything and I will be thankful for Him every second of my life.

Happy Thursday!


thinking [wheels down] thursday

Not an airplane! No vacation here. But we did make it through two months of nonstop bullshit… I mean… Holidays! 

Oh I love the holidays! Really! I just could do without the drama… Or the ‘too busy’ excuse crap… Or the awkwardness of families.

November held a child’s birthday, our wedding anniversary (18), thanksgiving, a week off from school, a little work. December was the usual fiasco with Christmas thrown in there somewhere. But now, it’s a New Year, back to the grind, routine… I’m glad, though 5am sucks hard.

All of that has nothing to do with this:

The wheel. When Sir uses the wartenberg wheel on me, I love it. Hate it, love it. (If you like a little pain and a lot of sensation, I highly suggest a wheel.) As I was soaking in my bath, I wondered why my legs were stinging, figuring they were just overly dry again. Nope!! I have a smattering of tiny pin prick scabs, and a few really cool looking scratchy scabs… Looks like a tiny fairy fork has been pulled across my pale skin. The sting makes me happy, but the small, visible wounds ? They make my heart soar! I cherish every bruise, every small draw of blood, every lasting reminder. That’s probably pretty fucked up, analyze if you want… But these are the things that lift me up! Who would like me if I weren’t a little fucked up anyway?! 😉

Happy New Year! Sir says this year is going to bring great things… and He’s the boss, so I won’t argue!

Oh yeah… It’s been a minute… Happy freakin’ Thursday!