The Toybag of Hateful Things.

I think that’s what I’ll call it from now on.

Now that the collar is finished and I no longer have to buy my regalia, my next financial commitment is to supply the Toybag of Hateful Things. These will be tools used on me for my Ordeal, and likely at other points as well. I have a feeling that I will use them on others, and they will continue to be used on me. But I digress.

The first item that I will be acquiring for the ToTH (hehehe) is a sjambok. Despite having seen “Dirty Jobs” (an episode of which a sjambok is discussed), I didn’t have a clue about it until I picked the brains of some of my more heavy-playing friends. It is a thick, short South African whip, used for cattle driving and defense (among other things). Cold Steel demonstrations show it to be extremely effective at inflicting heavy, even deadly damage. After talking to an acquaintance who sells them, it looks like I’ll be picking up one of these hateful things in early March.

Other things on my List are wooden paddles, leather paddles, a canewhip, a gag, and a rug beater (yes, a wire one). They are all things I would rather break than have used on me. They are things I flinch away from when I see them; I have never had them used on me. (Especially gags.) Not to say I think the items as a whole should go away and never return; I understand that some people enjoy them, and I can appreciate that. But me? No thanks.

I don’t get to say no thanks to these. That pisses me off.

A recent discussion with Himself revealed a little bit more about what precisely pisses me off. (We have most of our discussions on my walk home; makes for some interesting looky-loos from others, as my half is usually out loud.) It makes me angry, honestly. A very small part is angry with Him – angry for His choice of me, of all people, angry that He needs me. A slightly larger part is angry with the situation, which is something I can’t even define.

Most of all, I’m angry with myself. I’m angry that I’m so stubborn. I’m angry that I can’t just do this, because I do love Him and I want to make Him proud and want to walk with Him. I’m angry that I have to collect this Toybag of Hateful Things with which to break me because I’m so damned stubborn that I can’t just do.

His response to all of this was calm and somewhat baffling. You have a spine and a mind. I need those, even with Me.

He needs me broken so that I can accept His collar without a fight, but expects me to keep my spine and voice with Him. That confuses me even while I understand it. I’ve said before that an automaton doesn’t interest or help Him. His voice, when speaking through me, is harsher than Others, not tolerating foolishness or drama and getting right to the point. (“You both fucked up” is a phrase He has no problem using.) I can’t keep being His voice without having the spine to say what He needs said, even if it isn’t politic or polite. Being under His collar means I can’t say no outright. It will require me to do things I never would have before, because He will Assign it, and I will either have to do it or give Him a damn good reason why not and an alternative.

I understand it. I’m confused by it. I’m angry. All the anger is centering around the Toybag of Hateful Things, because it is so hateful to me that it needs to even be used.

Yes, I will do it. I want this path, and I love Him. For some reason He loves me too, even as He plans things that will push me. (He pushes me because He loves me, as I would be reminded if I didn’t acknowledge it.) But there’s a little part of me that wishes He were corporeal so I could hit Him with the damned sjambok.

About Fala

Fala Redwing is dedicated to Cernunnos as lover, submissive, and slave. A practicing Pagan since 2001 and a member of the BDSM community since 2006, Fala is an eclectic Witch and natural switch. Fala can be contacted at falaredwing@gmail.com.

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