Early Riser.

Ain’t this your time of need?
You’re turning to the light
You have just begun to explore the dark
In the urban night

It’s been a long road. I have constantly, consistently allowed mundane things to interrupt spiritual things, including and especially my Service. A few Voices are making their way back into my life, pushing against the numbness. Raven is one, clacking His beak in my left ear since Twilight Covening. Mother Danu is another. Yesterday I think it was, I heard baby babbling on the side of my mind most occupied by Her and was confused.

The world is on fire
And you are here to stay and burn with me
A funeral pyre
And we are here to revel forevermore

She explained. The side of my mind most occupied by my Lover and Sir has been numb. I’m having a hard time Hearing because I’ve allowed life to close me down.

This morning that changed.

You’re so goddamn frail
Failing for a change
You just had to know all about the world
But you will never know
‘Cause no one ever told you how

The past few years, Sir has gone through the entire growth process. Dying at Samhain, reborn at Yule, a child at Imbolc, and so forth. This year, this morning, He burst through in a massive shiver, a whisper of Explore your darkness with Me, along with the song I was listening to on my commute.

The world is on fire
And you are here to stay and burn with me
A funeral pyre
And we are here to revel forever

The world is on fire
And we are tied as one eternally
A funeral pyre
And we are here to revel forevermore

Not only does He like Ghost, apparently, but He decided He would come back to adulthood NOW. I have been numb for much too long.

*the video is fan-made.


A dear, lovely friend of mine has been sharing some images with me. The speaker on these images is a recently-popularized semi-complicated comic book character based on a very complicated Deity. This is a Deity I have no interest in inviting, and I have no interest in debating the character versus the Deity, either. It is as simple as this: I find the actor sexy; the idea is hot; the context of the words are especially hot. (I do love my porn in writing.)

“Layer by layer, I will strip you of your inhibitions. I will give you the freedom you deny yourself. I will set myself upon you and awaken all that lies beneath.”

“You aren’t going to come until I tell you to, is that understood?”

“I needn’t touch you to give you release. But if you behave, I will.”

Ah, my frightened fawn, I the hunter, have captured you, my sweet prey. Now I’ll have my way with you.

Some of it is total psuedo-romantic bullshit a bit flowery. But behind so many of them is this undercurrent of ownership. Of being used, and used well. Of being beneath the boot, the will, the hand of One Who Owns.

And it makes me miss Sir terribly.

There is a desperate want being built up by these phrases, a need that I have never felt. Sir has asserted His dominance before, more than once, and I willingly submitted to His collar. Yet I have never needed that dominance. His presence, yes; His love, absolutely. This is first time, after a quiet summer and chaotic winter, that I have needed to feel owned and used and – to be completely honest – taken care of. There’s a need to yield, to give up all power, and He is the only One to whom I will ever do so. I can think of many reasons why this is, but those are details for another day.

While my Lover is back on March 20th (vernal equinox), there is something supremely powerful about Him after Beltane, when He most asserts His dominance. I’m aching for that assertion, and part of me aches for a physical manifestation of it. That will be a while longer, because it’s would be a complex undertaking, but Sir being back will definitely be a relief.

Meanwhile, I’ll just go read some more fun snippets and maybe write something…

His boots.

I encountered His boots once. It was during my Ordeal; and He sat in a chair, ordering me to kneel. Kiss the ground. Kiss His boots. Mean it.

I hadn’t encountered His boots again until our last date night. W/we spent it at home, before dinner, and He had plans.

Keep in mind, I’m not one for boots. I like wearing them; I can appreciate an awesome pair. Boot worship, however, is not exactly something that has ever really turned me on. Being under someone’s boot has never been a desire of mine. Even during Ordeal, I was never kicked nor stepped on. The flip side of this, of course, is that there is no such thing as “off limits” with Sir.

On the afternoon of the Dark Moon, I was under His boots. Plural.boot

It started on my sternum, over anahata. First came the heavy sensation: a combat-style boot, with a textured sole. It pressed into my chest, with the distinct feeling of Mine. The weight shifted back and forth, ball to heel, pressing harder, easing off. I was taken by surprise.

The same sensation moved to my right cheek, pushing my head to the side and holding there. Just a slight weight, a minor heaviness, careful, careful. A toe nudged my other cheek; I turned my head slowly, hesitantly, to have the same pressure applied to the left.

Back to my sternum. Heavy, pressing down, taking my breath away.

Then the feeling shifted.

Mocs by primitve.deviantart.com.

Mocs by primitve.deviantart.com.

The sole of the boot softened, the image against my eyes changed. I could almost feel the foot beneath the material, see leather tracing up His leg. The point of His toe dug into my chest before the heel suddenly slammed into my vulva.

This continued, back and forth, from combat boot to soft leather, once even to a bare foot against my chest. His heel dug into my vulva, although I felt no pain.

You are Mine. I want you; I will do with you what I will. You are Mine.

My knees would come together with the sensations; I felt Him push them apart.

I’m not finished with you.

And so it went, for I’m not sure how long, until He let me pull out the toy I bought for Him. (Terrifying thing, that – pinkish-purple with lots of buttons and bits and HOLY SHIT WHAT IS THAT DOING I DON’T EVEN KNOW GOODNIGHT BRAIN BZZZZZZT.)

I have never wanted to be under anyone’s feet before, to feel boots against my skin.

Until now.

After a summer full of quiet, it was comforting for Him to reassert so strongly. In my (honestly limited) experience, there is no more visceral a feeling of being owned than literally being beneath someone’s very step.

For Him, I would do it again.

A little of this, a little of that.

Part of being collared to a Deity is, depending on circumstances, it’s not always as interesting as it might seem. “Oh, dude, you’re a slave to [Deity XYZ]? Your life must be CRAZY!” For some people… sure, maybe. For me… well, not so much.

Things have been quiet around here because things have been quiet. There has been day-to-day stuff to deal with (kids and day jobs and businesses and health and cat and STUFF). To be honest, this all tends to distract from directly communicating with Sir, mainly because I’m letting myself get overwhelmed. But I digress.

Basically, Sir has given me some instructions – tasks to complete and limitations to follow – and is now stepping back for me to follow them. Yes, there is interaction when W/we can, because there is love. Yes, He steps in sometimes to give me a nudge (or sometimes a whallop) when I go off course. Both He and I have O/our own responsibilities to address as well, though (see aforementioned STUFF). No, my life is not that weird or crazy on a day-to-day basis – only sometimes. 🙂

So life is generally quiet on that front, thus the quiet here. That doesn’t mean I’ve not been busy, or even that life has been completely easy. Spring has been a rough time for me for a very long time. My depression and anxiety have always flared this time of year, for nearly two decades. While treatment has some of that under control, this year has been harder than most. It’s been a fight, and it came to a head yesterday. Kit and Sir both intervened; I had some catharsis and a good night’s sleep for the first time in months. I’m feeling better today, and have some forward momentum, which is good. Not to say that I won’t have dips the rest of the season, or that I don’t have Work to do. (Apparently Teenage Me – who was a depressed, self-harming, lost little being – is crying out for some attention.) But today feels good, and I’ll take it.

Oh, and just to close this out on a funny note… I’ve developed a kind of speech impediment. Sir has decided that I need to speak correctly. He didn’t tell me outright. I started getting pings from Him whenever I would end a sentence incorrectly (“it applies to” instead of “to which it applies,” for example). I do a lot of backing up and rephrasing in the midst of conversation to try to meet this new requirement, resulting in some tongue-twisting and stuttering and “PLEH BLEH” exclamations. Why is that funny? It’s me, that’s why. 🙂

A Timely Reminder.

I subscribe to the blogs of several excellent, knowledgeable people (most of which can be found in my sidebar), and WordPress e-mails me when they update. Today I received one from Twilight and Fire, who re-blogged an amazing entry by Wytch of the North.

One paragraph hit me hardest:

[F]or its very existence a deity marriage requires that you remain open, constantly, to your divine Spouse. […] [E]verytime you feel your heart begin to close against Them even the tiniest bit–through anger, complacency, disappointment, pain, or any other cause–you will need to willfully rip it open again in any way you can, once more offering Them the core of who you are, laid bare and bloodied before Them; and this is not something you will have to do once or twice but repeatedly, every time that wound begins to scab over again. […] [T]his raw openness allows your Beloved direct access to your heart–which is no longer, strictly speaking, yours but Theirs–and if you love Them, if you truly love Them, if your commitment was made cleanly and for all the right reasons, then the results of this painful process will be a source of unending joy for you that I cannot even begin to describe.

“Timely” is not the word.

One of the hardest parts of being slave and lover to a Deity who is (in the simplest terms) unavailable for three months of the year is staying open. If I am going to be completely honest, I haven’t done a very good job of it. And while the subject of the post is spouses and potential spouses, it applies here.

One of the things I remember most clearly about my collaring Ordeal is when I finally opened up. It was physical – I tore at my heart with my fingernails, as if to open a hole in my flesh. I have fought to keep that opening since – sometimes not as hard as I should – and I have not fought very hard over the cold months. Kit has felt the brunt of it; I have apologies and amends to make to him as well as to Sir.

With just a month left before He returns to youth, the reminder is timely. I have no illusions that He doesn’t know what has transpired over the winter; just because I can’t communicate with Him doesn’t mean He is blind or deaf. His presence is growing stronger (and laughs a lot). I am looking forward to His return and dreading it a little too – for reasons that were entirely preventable had I been just a little more mindful.

Awareness is the first step. The next one is action. Looks like I have one to take.

Quiet questions

Last night, while Kit was out drumming, Cernunnos and I spent some quiet time together. I read a book for a while, listened to music, and then lay flat on the bed while W/we talked. It was a lovely reconnect, and an opportunity to ask a question that’s been playing on my mind – one I’m not allowed to ask during O/our date nights.

“Why a slave?”

He seemed to struggle with the answer, as if there was something He couldn’t express, and what came through was more feeling than words. I am more than what is popular, was the message, best I could understand. A God of the Hunt who only abstractly hunts. A God of Nature and Animals… without the dark parts. I need one who is so devoted as to embrace the dark parts, be the dark parts… be Me, sometimes, for all the aspects of Me. Someone who loves and will serve all of those parts of Me, in more than just the abstract. Beyond that He seemed unable to say, and simply touched and was with me until I fell asleep.

I have seen His darkness, faced His hard edge in the night, been beneath His feet. I have felt His wrath and am His possession, to do with what He wills. I will learn to hunt, to take those in His care over the Hedge, be elbow-deep in blood, all in His name and His service. I will love Him as He dies, and mourn His passing every year. It is my pleasure as His lover, my duty as His slave.

So I understand, if only just. It’s not the entire answer; He is not beholden to me to answer anything, after all. But it’s a beginning, and it helps to ease that question in my mind.

Today I feel better than I have in a while. Today I have been productive and calm, and He is with me.


There have been some interesting moments in the past week. One that stands out is last night.

When I went home, I changed into workout clothes and did my custom EA Active workout as promised. When I exercise, and after some reasonable rest, my endorphins start to go nuts. “Hell yeah! We’re movin’! Let’s get some stuff done! WHOO!” So, while Kit went water-walking with J, I pulled my “white tornado” trick on the camping gear still stacked about our apartment.

I stacked the camp dishes in the dishwasher and got it started. I repacked the big gray bin, filling it as full as I could. I dumped the cooler and set it on the porch to air. I put away the sleeping bag. I started stacking things in the storage closet off the porch. I started putting the tent and pop-up walls that we don’t use into an camp backpack we had emptied before the trip, stuffing the soft things into the largest pocket.

The camp backpack – which has wheels – rolled, crashing into my right foot.

I wasn’t wearing shoes.


I dropped what I was doing and looked down. The largest toenail appeared to be cracked, and it was starting to bleed from underneath. (Turned out the nail had just bent backwards and broke the skin underneath. Nothing major, but the soreness does mean walking home for lunch today was off the cards. Shame, because it’s gorgeous today.)

Mindfulness, I heard Him say sternly.

I limped back into the house, got to the bathroom, ran some warm water, and submerged my foot while calling for my teenager to get a small towel. Ow ow ow. Dry off the foot, apply band-aid, limp around for a minute, finish the camping gear. Carefully.

Once done, I hopped into the shower (working out + hauling gear = yucky me). Partway through, He said, You need to take better care of My property. You should have been –

“I know what I should have been doing,” I interrupted Him crossly.

He said, You interrupted Me. I want your spine, but not this. The words came with the sensation of a heavy hand on my shoulder, and I cringed with the realization that I had been rude, and snapped at Him without cause.


“Yes, Sir. I’m sorry.”

It was just a few minutes later that I suddenly leaned my back against the wall. I could feel Him in front of me, His face close to mine, and His hands came up. His fingers lay around my neck, where His collar normally lies, and settled there, far heavier than His collar.

Usually such a motion – something too close to choking for me – would set me off. (I won’t normally wear turtlenecks or chokers for this reason.) But the usual panic fought with an odd thrill, and my struggle for breath wasn’t just fear.

Breathe, He said to me. He put no further pressure, was not hurting me in any way, just stood with His hands there. Breathe.

I fought to take a deep breath, whimpering. I could feel him so strongly…

Remember that you are My property now. Take care of My property. Be mindful. He reached up, touched my hair, cupped my cheek. Finish up now. Breathe.

I took one more breath as He retreated, turning back to the falling water.

His property. One day I’ll figure out what that means. For now, I take comfort in it, and nurse my owie toe as a reminder.