Archive for October, 2019

Apples

Wednesday, October 30th, 2019

Bring me an apple he commanded the slave girl. She glanced at him in bed before she walked out of the room, he was laying in a bed covered with white sheets while wearing a white robe. It was fitting foreshadowing. She walked to the kitchenette, the lights got more intense, and her thoughts flooded with things like "pick the right apple, you can't pick an apple, you are about to get in trouble, do you see the bathroom, remember the last words he said because who knows in how many days until you hear his voice" and she pushed those thoughts away...telling herself like so many other times that she needs to be positive. How can picking a fruit end so poorly? Re-focusing on fetching an apple, she picked the most red one and washed it. Bringing it back to him with a smile and an air of hope. Then his face dropped and she knew. He spit out the apple and told her it was garbage. All she had to do was get some apples and she wasted more of his money. The disgusting red apple mocked her with it's shine against his white robe. The girl brought him another apple and although passable enough to take a bite of, he eventually proclaimed he wouldn't eat it. The slave was reminded by him of how little he's found apples he liked and she brought him terrible ones from the same store as the good ones.

Eventually and unsurprisingly everyone else moved on. She wished he would just beat her, choke her, kill her...something to allow her move on from the pain of ruining his apples. It's terribly numbing to always feel like your Master hates you. It's a terrible thing to be a bad apple.

1000 words a day.

Wednesday, October 30th, 2019

This morning started like none other because no day is really that similar to the one before. I had been sleeping and dreaming of all sorts of weird things - missed final exams, a boarder check composed of only dogs, and me desperate to find the gelape. Sleep abruptly came to a stop (which caused me to wake up heart racing and desperate for air) when I heard the sound of Master's slippers flip flopping in the hallway. These days my brain takes a good minute to reconstruct reality from the dream interweb it created of my past lives and current fears. I escape into Master's room and the next fifteen minutes is spent in a joyous morning reunion. It's now late October in Budapest and the weather has just turned - making the time spent giggling and cuddling under the blankets all the better.

The topic of what I secretly refer to as the 'doin it adventure' or more publicly known as the Harem's Grand European Tour 2019 came up as a point of discussion.1 So many different things have happened in the last month of travel and so much is left to document. But for now, lets happily recount the last few days.

We left Prague on Monday the 28th of October at around 11AM for Budapest and with a tentative plan to visit Bratislava after Buttapest. Us leaving includes no less than three suitcases, six bags, and five coats. You can do the imagining of how many laptops, cameras, cords, cases...etc. go with that amount of luggage. A few hours into the drive the plan changed and now the harem is instead making a derailment to Vienna! We've been all over Europe by now and only one place has managed to make the steaks exactly correct. Why not have a steak stop in Vienna?2 After dinner some tasks ensue3 and we make it to the hotel in Budapest by 840PM. Did you follow all of that? Three countries in one day isin't so bad. The rest of the evening is spent performing militaresque unpacking, glove searching, and then rum - lot's of wonderfully spiced rum and coffee.

Yesterday, Wednesday October 30th, morning was spent with the intricacies of driving to breakfast and finding a parking spot in the over populated city. More parking garages please!4 After breakfast it was errands time, which included a stop at a few stores (one stop being to purchase Zubrowka cherry vodka, which until now we haven't been able to find outside of Poland.) and the local market. Such tasks brings us to the end of the day and thus in Budapest tradition - Kebabi time.5

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liget-4

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This retelling of the past few days has led us to this present moment. Tonight we pack and tomorrow we return to Romania. Despite the crying and cursing that has ensued over the last month (that we will necessarily get to later) I am sad that this portion of the trip is over. Fortunately for me, tomorrow I'll have another thousand words to reflect on my boring life. Until then I am off to buy a dozen apples and search for Hungarian vibrators. Oh you know...suck tasks. Wish me luck.

  1. Which also sparked a decree of me to write 1,000 words a day. Slavery isint conducive to free time, so as usual my first thoughts were filled with panic supported by reasons of how this won't be possible. If not curbed, these thoughts can become a slippery slope which leads right to the failure train. The only way to run out of time is to waste it. []
  2. It's a great place called the Porter House - across the street from the fantastic Goulash Museum which is next to De Capo Pizzeria. This is really the corner to come to if you are hungry without reservation in Vienna. []
  3. I was handling some phone business in a nearby mall. While living in the states, I never once physically went to a phone or internet providers location. Similar to a DMV you take a ticket and stand around until your number comes up. I take a ticket and breathe a little because I am number two in line. Still though, people love waiting in lines so to be sure I ask the guys ahead of me if I can switch. They decline my explanation of how I will be 10 minutes at the very most. Fine. Soon the fuck boys are called up (fuck boys as in how much pride they put in their 80 dollar sweatpants, the new fade, the shifty movements, and how much they lick their lips.) - apparently one got a new phone and its a big to do. I wait and fucking wait for this other dumble dick who has been camping at the register to move on. I get pissy and talk the guy into helping me and I am out of there. Still though, an unacceptable amount of time wasted. []
  4. You see my friends, I forgot Master's umbrella which necessarily meant that he needed to be dropped off at the door of what we'll call the breakfast palace. This caused me to drive past the one parking spot in a five block radius. From there the naive attempt was made to use a nearby parking garage with free spots! How lucky for a slave. Oh, but wait... this is a boat parking garage where a crane will pick up your car and carry it through a roller coaster of cars until it drops it on the right one. However, the dubious worker does guarantee (while laughing) that all you need to do in order to retrieve your car is: press the button while tugging on the rope only when the light is flashing and then turn the hanging wheel two turns to the left then four to the right. We would never leave Florimund in such a trap, but leaving also led us to crossing a bridge and further unpleasantness before finding a parking spot. []
  5. Hannah found the best place for kebabs and hummus in the city. Such a treat as Romania and Costa Rica has nothing like this. 1000words-14 This picture from the kebab place has been sentenced to the footnotes because of it's derpiness. []

Missed Connections

Friday, October 18th, 2019

I'm falling behind you, desperately gripping a phone in my hand while the cold wind beats against our faces. You start walking faster and I can't focus fast enough to understand where we are exactly on this strange city's map. The first wrong turn I direct makes my heart race and my head fill with self deprecating thoughts. Five minutes ago you were telling me to be less stressed and now your supposedly comforting words will haunt me for the rest of the night. By the second wrong turn I know I've done it and you confirm that this is the case. I'm instructed to wait on the other side of the bridge and maybe if you feel like it you will come back for me. My thoughts are coming so fast that I can't focus on any specific one. Bingo, I fucked up again by walking to the wrong side of the bridge and I hear your voice calling me a stupid cunt. It's at this point that I let go of any hope of salvaging the night through my service. It feels cooler out now, the sky is dark, and the wind is strong. The bridge is immense and watching you walk away feels permanent. Autumn nights usually feel lonely with people but this is something else. I spend some time debating if I should jump knowing how hopeless everyday feels. It's a complicated thing to have the ability to ruin someones day yet have no actual control in life. Therefore, I take my hate, anger, and sadness inwards gripping the bridge and mentally masturbate to how it would feel to not feel. I beg god to strike me down for being such a terrible person. I wonder how many slaves have found themselves where I am standing. Two wrong turns. We both know that I won't do it and I cease wasting energy on selfish thoughts. My mind reviews the night and the other times when I miss directed us. The chilling wind blows and a fox runs by - the first wild fox I've ever seen. I wish I could tell you about it, I wish I could tell you a lot of things.

The few minutes on the corner eventually turn to over an hour. Dressed for a fetish party I'm wearing a short tight black dress, lingerie, a cat mask, tail butt plug, and all under a light jacket. My feet hurt from being in serious heels all day, my face is covered in remorseful tears, and I'm so very cold. It's a real possibility that I will be here all night and my mind goes back and forth on if its appropriate to call and beg to be relieved. What I did is a serious offense that I would like to fix.1 Apologies don't count for very much in the life of a slave. What you do is how you will be judged and its a treat if your past good deeds make it in. Mind you this isin't a complaint, I spend every morning hoping that I will be able to spend the day successfully serving a Master whom I dedicated my life to and failure is, well failure. Eventually I make the call, between the tears and begging my words are hardly audible. Permission is granted for me to come back to the hotel. Although one step of the punishment is done, I know I've barely begun to suffer. The masochist part of me enjoys this thought while walking through the cold and rainy empty streets of Vienna. The other part of me toys with the idea of what a hug would be like.

Walking down the bridge towards the metro I notice a small shitty honda civic type car driving noticeably slow. The car passes me and eventually pulls over on the side of the road that I am walking on. It's parking lights come on. The obvious guess is that he thinks that I'm a prostitute by the tights and the butt plug sticking out from under my coat. At any rate, I've been a street walker for the last few hours. The man in the car makes sounds and gestures for me to come towards his now open car window. Picking up my pace I stare forward and focus on the metro which is 15 feet from me. Suddenly, I hear whistling and the car door opening. I feel the john's hands brush up against my arm when I start running. It wouldn't be a night that I fucked up if the universe didn't add insult to injury. If only I could trade flight or fight for being able to give directions without panicking.

On the metro platform I hold my head while tears run down my face. A girl comes to talk to me, happy and with so much energy she's practically jumping up and down. I notice her book bag, tennis shoes, warm coat, and map in her hand. She's smiling so wide her red lips almost touch her gold horseshoe earrings. First, she asks me if I'm okay and I stay silent but nod up and down to gesture yes. It'll be okay she says, the sun will rise again tomorrow. This thought makes me cry even harder. I'm envious of how naive she is to the reality of my world. Then she asks me for metro directions. Of course she would be lost asking me for directions here and in this exact moment of time. It's hard not to see the cruel humor in it all. I give her directions and she only runs off after asking me a few times if I'm sure I'll be okay. I wanted to tell her that I hope she'll be okay, I'm not exactly known for my preciseness.

The tears won't stop coming on the metro ride. My brain won't stop cycling regret and pain. Tonight was supposed to be so good and here I sit after fucking it up with a few words. Am I this bad of a person...does being a good or bad person even matter? Turmoil is not being able to make sense of the world. Part of what attracted me to leaving my old life behind was the hope that something would make sense now. I'm guilty of romanticizing BDSM and slavery in thinking that it would solve or fix some parts of me. Quite the opposite happened and faults become exposed. And once exposed, those faults are your reputation until god himself says otherwise.

Despite being overwhelmed with sadness I get off the train at the right stop and make my way down the stairs in order to make the last connection. The timer says 15 minutes until the train gets here so I find a seat on an empty bench to sob. A woman talking on her phone walks down the hallway dressed in traditional Austrian wear. A man sits to my left with large headphones on his head and a couple of four take a seat on my right to discuss their night at the museum. The man with the headphones takes them off of his head and asks me the question of the night. For some reason and in between long gaps of tears I tell him the truth that, no I'm not okay. He looks at me with such kind intelligent eyes and asks me if I'd like to talk about it. The train comes soon after the conversation starts and we continue talking until his stop. Before he gets off he gives me a long hug and tells me not to hesitate... Money can't buy genuine kindness from strangers.

I make it back to the hotel in time for a reunion. Of course you know by now what a joke that is. Punishment is almost always in the plural form. Now the hotel room is my cage and dog food is my dinner. I haven't seen my you in a few days and now have to travel alone to another part of the country where I 'may' be picked up.

  1. The fear of doing the wrong thing (like announcing the wrong direction) becomes a powerful uncontrolled thought in my head that manages to fuck me over again and again. The panic comes quickly and useless thoughts race so fast I lose control over myself. []