I found some prompts for submissive journaling – Submissive Journal Prompts (SJP).  I don’t know how often I’ll do one or even if I’ll manage to be mature enough to do more than one before I have a tantrum and refuse to write to anyone else’s demands (ahem, not you, Sir!)  But, I’m giving it a try.

This prompt came from a blog called Submissive Circle.  I just found it on a Google search and don’t read it.  It looks like it hasn’t been active for a while, but, hey, I know how THAT goes!  But there are a few prompts that didn’t seem too horrible for me to mangle into a post, so I’m stealing one.

Protect the property?

Published on 21 July, 2014 by beach

What does this statement mean to you? Is this a rule in your M/s relationship? If so, how does it manifest? If not, who is responsible for the health and well-being of the property?

Yes.  Sir and I have a rule like this. I’ve mentioned before, in this post and in this one, that Sir and I have a dominant and submissive relationship, but there is additional layer that is Master/slave or Owner/owned in which I… we… have created an understanding of our relationship that includes me surrendering physical ownership of my body to him.  Obviously this is not a legal arrangement and most of the time it isn’t even manifest in how we interact.  But there are times when it comes up and the metal space for both of us when that feeling of interaction arises most fits the idea of… property and ownership.  And so we use that imperfect language for this sense of ourselves and our relationship.

As I said, it doesn’t manifest often in our day to day lives.  But it does manifest at times and with varying intensity.  And the lines between being submissive and being owned aren’t always clear and probably very much come down to the mentality rather than the physicality most of the time.  I can only explain the shift as… it simply feels that way.  Other people’s lives are, of course, most certainly different.

The past week has been difficult for me in terms of emotional and psychological regulation (although this will be posted a few weeks after writing, so… you know, TIME WARP!)  One of the symptoms has been hypersensitivity in my mouth which causes me to move my tongue and lips almost ceaselessly seeking relief and leads to sores inside my mouth forming due to the constant friction against my teeth.  It’s been a little better for the past three days, although other things have been difficult.

This morning, I didn’t get out of bed when I was told, several times.  I was having a severe problem with motivation.  Finally Sir pulled me out of the bed, turned me around over it and smacked me about twenty times with a wooden spoon (which fucking stings! I hate that thing!)  It served to break my motivation issue, and I turned to go to the bathroom to take my pills and shower (as I’d been told already three times), but Sir grabbed the back of my neck and pulled me over to him.

Now, normally, he isn’t so… physically dominant unless he’s punishing me.  This wasn’t punishment.  This was something different, it was that shift when the other part of our relationship comes to the fore.  It’s somehow a change in how he acts, subtly, a change in how I perceive him (and thus respond) subtly.  The moment his hand touched my neck and closed, not roughly, not with any meanness, just firmly I felt my own mental state shift.

He continued to hold me by the back of my neck, facing him, and very close, and he didn’t look me in the eyes.  It was not as if he was avoiding my gaze, more that it was just… irrelevant to his thinking right then.  He was looking at my mouth.  With his free hand, he touched my lower lip, and I opened my mouth slightly.  I wasn’t sure what he wanted, or what he was doing, but… that really wasn’t relevant to my thinking at that moment, either.  I wasn’t concerned about pleasing him, either (often part of my submissive mentality), I simply existed, in my physical body, waiting, somehow for his actions.

He slid his thumb into my mouth, over my lower teeth and pulled my jaw down.  Then he used his other hand to press my forehead back so that my mouth was open and my head angled so he could see inside.  It wasn’t… comfortable… emotionally.  It felt intensely personal and… um… penetrating.  Vulnerable.  I don’t know why exactly, but it felt very intimate, a literal penetration of my body.

Sir continued, for several minutes, to examine the inside of my mouth.  He used his fingers to press my cheeks away from my teeth, to move my tongue to each side so he could see it, he even ran his finger along the roof of my mouth, over the scar there.

He said nothing for the entire time.  He did not look at my eyes.  He did not acknowledge me in any way.  And I stood still, moving only when his fingers guided me to do so, my breath, the entire time, coming short and shallow.  His hands were clean, I could almost taste or smell the scent of the soap, still on them.  I wasn’t uncomfortable about hygiene but more the… penetration… and the depersonalization, although it wasn’t a bad discomfort, just an… unfamiliar feeling, a vulnerable feeling.

Finally he shifted the angle of his head and his fingers so I could tell he was studying my gums.  Some of the medications I’ve had to take have caused inflammation and regression of my gums on some of my teeth.  Sir demanded I become vigilant in using my water pik and brushing with a particular concoction from my doctor twice a day.

For a moment, as Sir was studying my teeth and my gums, I felt proud that I have been following that command, and my oral health has been improving.

When he finished with his mouth, he grasped my face, his fingers on either side of my jaw, and tilted my face from one side to the other as he studied me, then he tilted my head toward him to look at my hair, and my part where my skin is exposed to the sun.

“Sunscreen.”

It was the first word he’d spoken to me since dragging me out of bed.  I nodded, yes Sir.  A few weeks ago he decided that I should be putting on sunscreen every day after my shower before I get dressed, that way unexpected sitting in the sun moments (having lunch outside with a friend, walking the dog because he suddenly decides he has to pee at noon, etc.) don’t result in unprotected sun exposure.

Because… I must protect the property.

The body that I didn’t care for enough to save in small and sometimes in large and brutal ways.

The body he loves more than I do, more than I can, or so I sometimes think.

His property.

And somehow that makes me see it differently.

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