The other day I was chillaxin with a friend of mine.  We were babbling about all things life-related, as us girls are wont to do, and I asked her if I’m a negative person.

She said I tend to ramble on about the shit and forget to mention the good stuff.  I told her I need to work on that and she laughed.  She said, “People don’t want to hear the good stuff, Rayne.  All they care about is the drama.  The stuff that keeps you down.  When you start talking about how good you’re doing, people get jealous and don’t want to be around you anymore.”

The sad thing is sometimes that’s true.

When I worked at the mansion, I had a coworker who only ever talked about good stuff in her life.  She didn’t share the negative.  And half the staff was always complaining about it.

“Must be nice to always have it so good.” they’d say.  “Does she ever shut up?” Read more…

When Americans think about slavery, they usually envision African tribes being captured in droves by white European men and transported by the hundreds in the holds of small wooden ships.  They envision rows and rows of black men standing in fields of cotton being whipped by white men.  They picture “Mammy” and all she represents.

But slavery goes back much farther than that.

Did you know that the term “slave” was coined in tenth century AD by the Germans?  They were enslaving so many “Slavs” that the name became the term they used for any captive servants.

Slaves have been obtained by many different cultures in many different ways.  Sometimes they were prisoners of war, debtors, criminals.  In some cultures, parents who found themselves in desperate situations would sell their children into slavery.  Pirates would capture and enslave men, women and children of ships and towns they pillaged.  One of the most popular methods in history seems to be capturing your enemy or competitor and forcing them into slavery, thus protecting yourself or your investment.

The first known slaves were the wardu of eighteenth century BC Babylon.  But in Babylon, slavery was more a legal status than what we often envision it to be.  Slaves of the Babylonian era occasionally owned property.  They often engaged in business, borrowed money and bought their freedom. They were allowed to marry free people and have children, which freed them.  And for the most part, their masters treated them well provided they kept in line. Read more…

So…  Where to start.

I’ve fucked more than thirty people, male and female.  Less females than men.  Most of my relationships with females didn’t involve sex.  And when they did, it was rarely what one would consider fucking.

I love all things sexual.  I hear submissives and masochists say things like “I can’t get off unless I get hurt.” or “Sex just isn’t worth it without pain.” or what-have-you.  But I’ve not found a thing yet that prevents me from cumming.  Except maybe being so angry I’m completely turned off.  But even then, force is a sure-fire way to get me all hot and bothered.  So anger doesn’t stave it off long.

Until recently, that’s made me feel really friggin’ guilty.

I don’t know what my parents tried to teach me about sex.  I can’t say for certain that they intentionally gave me a negative predisposition to it.  But all things sexual were off limits.

My mother thought it better I learn from school what my period and sex were.  And by that time I already knew.

In kindergarten I was fingered by a boy in ninth grade, not knowing enough to even want to stop him, and really liked it.  And then my mom got pregnant and bought me a book called “So that’s where babies come from!” (which I can’t even find on Amazon!).  I thought, “Finally.  I can find out if I’m right about sex.”  Read more…

So I was pretty convinced the picture-taking wasn’t going to happen.  It’s hard relinquishing our “hang out and relax” time to performing.  In front of or behind the camera.  But relinquish it we did.  And pictures were taken.  Pictures I don’t ever want anyone to see.  Well… except one or two.

I suck at the whole model-face thing.  And I’d just sit and look normal except my “sit and look normal” face looks like “uber bitch” to everyone else.  So I’m gonna have to start practicing facial expressions in the mirror or something.  Seriously.

Master wasn’t watching my face.  He was watching my pussy.  Through the lens of His camera.  As I thrust my BOB in and out over and over.

He kept telling me what to do.  “Okay now play with your clit.”  “Fuck yourself some more.”  “Hold it open so I can beat it.”  *screeching halt* What?

I tried.  I swear to god, I tried (Yes, I see the irony in me swearing to something I don’t believe in).  Can I just say that shit fucking hurts?  Especially when He’s hitting as hard as He can there first.  But He really was trying to rip my pussy lips off with the flogger to find a happy medium.  Somewhere between gruesome torture the way He likes to hit and feather like caresses how much my pussy can handle right off the bat.  Apparently I’m more of a warm-up girl than I realized. Read more…

So way back when, before we updated and lost comments (Boo!  On the losing comments part, not the updating part.  I really like the new layout.  M did a kick-ass job.  In case I haven’t said it, thank you, Master!), I put up a post called Scared Stiff: Insecurities.  It’s basically just a list of some of the things that being so damned insecure and self-conscious affects in my day to day life.  Things that piss me off, that is.

I also mentioned I want to overcome them.  And promptly did nothing about it.

But I can’t do this anymore.  I can’t spend hours at a time crying over not being a super model.  I can’t keep freaking out about details that are just not possible to correct right this second.  And most of all, I’m sick of being fucking depressed all the time.

Someone said to me the other day, “It’s always something with you.”  And they’re right.  Something is always going wrong or pissing me off or upsetting me.  Try as I might, looking at the bright side does me no good.  And that needs to change.

Anyway… Vanimp and Amber both said I should make a list of my good qualities.  Things I like about myself.  And I’ve been meaning to and putting it off.  Because I have a really hard time seeing any good in myself.  And I have a hard time believing people when they compliment me because my opinion of myself is so low.

I’m already crying just thinking of the exercise.  Heh.  But without further ado, my positive traits. Read more…