The birth of a ritual

You may wonder what the difference is between a rule, a ritual, and a protocol.  Basically:

  • Protocols tell us how to behave and in DS, how to behave while in service to another.
  • Rules set boundaries.  They set the limits to what you can and can’t do.  They provide guidelines for efficiency and policy for procedure.
  • Rituals are sacred actions often coupled with words which are repeated with absolute devotion and exactitude.


The seven pm protocol.. meaning dinner will be served every evening exactly at 7pm started as a loose, casual thing with the only requirement be that:

  • Dinner be served at 7pm
  • The place mats, china, flatware, napkins, etc would come down from its shelf
  • Flatware, etc would be laid out exactly so
  • After dinner all 7pm flatware, etc would be cleaned
  • All cleaned flatware would lovingly be returned to its shelf to await the next day

A buffet table later was added and dinners became buffet style, with Owners having the option to be served.  If I have an honored guest without a slave, I would offer to have Izrina fetch.

Just as Izrina is required to request permission to enter my bed, I also require her worship at the table before she can be seated.  That ritual started almost immediately after the 7pm protocol started.

And now we come to the new ritual that has been born of the 7pm protocol. I like to wear my leather vest when I am full Master Mode.. which of course I am… when hosting this meal.  So I took to wearing my leather vest at every meal.  I always change into my standard event clothes for a meal.

Now those who have seen me in a dungeon, know that Izrina and i have a ritual we perform before I play.  She acts as my valet, I stand with arms out, indicating she should start, and she removes my shirt, then slides my vest over my bear chest.  I like to wear my vest without a shirt when I play.

It seemed to me that if I was going to wear my vest (with a shirt) at the table, then my valet should put it on for me… enter the new ritual.  Just before she gives worship now, she offers my vest, and I allow her to drape it on me..  its the little things.. the small service that is performed as a ritual that I love.  I like this new ritual..

Speaking of the vest..  I want to come up with colors for the House of X, to go on the vest.   Let the creative juices flow….

Carpe Diem my friends… be someone’s great day!



Concrete and hardwood floors

What the hell does concrete and hardwood floors have to do with BDSM?  Nothing really. Unless you are busy preparing the House of X.  I bought engineered hardwood for the downstairs living room, but apparently the floor was not perfectly flat.  The flooring guy at the local home repair super store said I should put down this concrete like underlay.  So last night I handed the boards one at a time to Izrina and had her stack them in the exact order of disassembly, so during reassembly all of the seams would be staggered.

I know its only been a few weeks but working all day and all night is getting old.  My friend Sno is giving a protocol class Saturday.  Think I’ll take some down time and go.  Protocols often annoy BDSM people.  Either because they are subs and not slaves, or they feel that its too close to a one twue way, or whatever.  People can be idiots.

But protocols, rules and rituals are key.  They are the foundations of keeping the mindset alive at all times.  They give us the sense that Ds is always in place.. a kind of stability that is reassuring.

Concrete and hardwood may not be directly related to BDSM, but then my whole life is like that.  Everything I do and am ties back somehow to my Master/slave life.  Its not a life style, and its not a choice.  Its our life. For some of us it is who we are.  Izrina didn’t assist last night because we are a couple building a dream.. well not directly… she assisted because she is a slave and the Master she slaves for ordered her to.  Its always there.. even when its not obvious.  For someone who is looking to fulfill their BDSM needs, there is nothing quite so wonderful as to live it 24/7.

Tonight we put back the hardwood and see how I did with the underlay.  Until then, Carpe Diem my friends, be someone’s great day.

Meet Mr Fluffy

Just before seven pm protocol tonight, I asked Mr Fluffy if he would mind if I mentioned him in my blog.  He consented, as long as I didn’t “out” him by name or excessive detail.  Consent is important.

With that out of the way, meet Mr Fluffy.  He’s a wiry young man, about nineteen years of age, with blonde locks that fall over his eyes, and a scruffy bit of facial hair.  He is a submissive.  He is not a slave.  His Mistress moved out of the area.  I’ve known Mr Fluffy for a while now, and I thought it would be nice for him to stay with us at the House of X.  No definite period set for that.  I gave him a room, and some basic rules.  He helps around the house.  He is not an official house slave, per se, but he’s damn close.

Its odd.  Izrina is twenty five years younger than me, and sixteen years older than Mr Fluffy.  Its quite a generational gap but we find common ground.  Its an interesting situation.  Often I will hear Izrina and he working, talking, and laughing.

I find it interesting that our first live in is more of a concern for me, than for Izrina.  By that I mean, we are not poly.  We have no intention of diddling around with house slaves.  But the concern for someone being tempted can go both ways since I have no objections to adding a male or female slave to the house.

Mr Fluffy has the attractiveness that most youth has.. the thin, fresh, attractiveness of well defined muscles under skin with no fat.  How quickly that passes.  But as we transition from teens to twenties we can have such wonderfully perfect bodies.  Of course that is true for both men, and women.  Its not always an easy attraction to resist, especially if a person is flirtatious or personable.

Izrina prepared corn chowder tonight.  Its was delicious.  The day before it was zucchini and Italian sausage soup.  Often these dishes and desserts she prepares take time to peal and chop and dice the ingredients.  Mr Fluffy will often join her in the kitchen to assist with chores like peeling.  The other day, he helped me lower a rather heavy block of concrete.  He ran the snow blower over the driveway a few days back, before I got home. Its good to have the added company at the table, and to the help at the house.

He gets rather sad at times.  You know how it is when you are young and the drama is thick around you.  But this is why we took him in.  I felt he needed us.  He had a bit of a cold this weekend and Izrina and I mothered him.  Between his cold, and his occasional bought with sadness, I worry about him.  The Master in me wants to look after him.  The slave in Izrina wants to help.  He’s in good hands.

The House of X is a disaster.  We have projects going everywhere.  But in there is a calm center at the heart of that storm.. and that’s me.  I tie it together, and make it work.  Its what I do.  Its what I love to do.  Its is frightening, this monstrous maelstrom of work, shared burdens, and small delights.  I have no idea where all this will lead but while its in progress its exciting and wonderful.  Carpe Diem my friends.  Be someone’s great day.


HOX – Demolition and construction

The last three weeks have been a whirlwind at the House of X.  Each morning I try to resist doing some small task like spackling before its off to work.  Some days I can’t resist a “little project” which usually means afterward I am running late.  At work, all I can think about is which of the dozen projects to do next.  I ripped up one floor, which won’t be replaced for a while.  Ripped up another and that is being replaced with hardwood right now.  I pulled out a door to replace it with something newer, but the frame was not standard size, so I had some framing to do first.  We have burned through one large box of kitchen trash bags, AND a large box of black lawn bags.  Many trips to the dump.  There are often ten bags waiting disposal.  So it goes.

In spite of the confusion every night we have our seven pm protocol..  a sit down diner with specific flatware laid out.  Most nights we have guests.   The other night, we had diner for two.  I took pictures which I meant to post but there just hasn’t been the time to upload and write.

Tonight I finally decided to just post.  If you have seen the earlier pictures, you know there is a cast iron hitching post by my chair.  I love the hitching post and though I planned to put it at the top of the driveway to hold a sign, it makes such a nice prop at the table that I’ve decided to just get another for the driveway.

I have been trying to built bridges to the local LGBBT community for a safe place to set up a MAsT chapter.  Someplace we can meet and talk openly with some degree of privacy.   This can not be like a munch where you share your space in a public area. I may need to just offer the house as a meeting place, which is fine, except its really not ready and there will be a lot more dust and confusion before I have a room that is free of all the commotion.

Life has been pretty damn good.  The commute to Izrina’s job from the house is way too long, so I had her quit her job.  She is looking for one local to the house.  Its been lovely having more of her time..  Moving is a pain though.. isn’t it always.

At some point I should draw up some general guidelines for the House of X..  rules, protocols, mission statement… stuff like that.  Frankly, though I have a very clear idea in my head what I want, putting it down on paper seems like such a bother.  Still, any slave considering being a house slave, needs to know what they are getting into.  Its all new territory for me, and I am a firm believer in learning from others mistakes.  I will reach out to friends and associates for advice.

Anyway, the electronic side of my life has been slipping while the day to day side has been growing.  Thought it was high time to share.  Life has been busy but very good. Carpe Diem my friends, be someone’s great day!

It’s not enough

It’s not enough…
to want to be my slave
its not enough to promise to do anything I say
its not enough to beg for my domination
its not enough to let me use your body in any way
its not enough that I can fuck you any time I please

I am a consensual Master.
What pleases you, pleases me.

I need to know…
you will serve with joy
you will find pleasure pleasing me
you will strive always to fulfill us both


In the path of your happiness, that is where I need you to be,
even if you are on your knees.

Its the little things

Its easy to be thankful for the good things in life.  What really sets the best people apart from the rest, is the ability to be thankful for the bad and difficult things in life.

Wait?!   What?!   Why would anyone be thankful for something bad?  Well now, that’s the challenge isn’t it?  To see the lessons learned in failure.  To see the character built from challenges.  The strength born of adversity.

Part of the secret is not to get caught up in the craze to have more, more, more.  When we learn the pleasure of little things, when what we value has little worth to others because we have learned the secrets of happiness, that is when life feels complete.

I promised a picture of the trivet and flatware.  These please me:


The rough darkness feel like an extension of myself.  There is nothing particularly special about either.  And yet like so many things in life we build an affinity for some little treasures.  The trick is to not become so attached that we become obsessed.  But by the same token, its good to gather things around yourself, that you like and feel good to you.

Its a balance, like all of life.   Its like the grip of a fencer on his sword.  Not too tight, yet not too loose.   Just enough to do what you do well.  In this New Year, I wish you happiness that comes from inside.  Un-tap that well, and you too can be annoyingly pleasant before others have had their coffee.   Carpe Diem my friends.. Be someone’s great day!

Crock pots and sore backs

Just three days of scraping and cleaning and hauling and demolition and already my back is sore.  Thank God for Crock pots.

Tonight’s dinner was easy.  Chop an onion, dump in the ingredients and voila!  The 7pm protocol is ready right on time.

Tonight was Chili, with lots of bread and butter to soak up the yummy goodness.  A little salad thrown in, just to keep it healthy.  But then chocolate ice cream with chocolate syrup for desert.   Gotta leave room for desert.


I like the idea of a carafe.  It feels good in your hand, and there is something communal about sharing from one.  And there is a control… This – is how much we have to share to drink.. Oh!  We ran out?.. slave.. go refill it.

The trivet in the back there, she’s a beauty..  Cast Iron, with place for two warmers.  I’ll have to post a pic of just the trivet and flatware so you can better see.

None of the flatware or setting seen here are used for anything other than the 7pm protocol.  After dinner everything is washed and put away.   The black handled flatware goes in a wooden box.  All of this has its own shelf area.

Dinner is sacred.    The idea is to eat in with style and grace, no matter how simple the food.. and then the implements of the meal are lovingly cared for and tucked back into their place to await the next meal hosted by Master.   The implements of the protocol are sacred.

Its the simple things.. the structure, the thought, the control, the organization that makes the life of a Master or slave special..

Carpe Diem my friends.   Be someone’s great day.

An evening of mixed blessings

Our New Years are always special.  We join dear friends at a house party.   Its a small gathering of BDSM people who get along well and the conversations are lively, the laughter sometimes loud.

Now that the House of X is getting started, I ordered Izrina to give notice at her job.   We have two weeks before she can stop the very, very long commute to the House.  Frankly, its a pain in the ass.  Its nearly an hour and a half each way now from her job at the ranch and of course they are still working her way too hard.

The New Years Eve party starting early, but we couldn’t get there until almost 8:30.  I promised to set Izrina on fire.. but the fire table was in the garage turned play area and it was too fucking cold to use.. temps here have been 40 degrees below normal.. so most house are struggling to keep up.

Then because of the 90 minute drive, Izrina had to be up at 3:30 am…  So how does she sleep and party between 8:30 and 3:30?   When I realized I couldn’t do a fire scene with her.. I tucked her into bed in the downstairs livingroom…  Where a single tail scene started shortly after.   That scene was followed by a rather noisy game of “I am thinking of a number”.

The number was between one and twenty and each wrong guess resulted in five paddles with a particularly thick piece of leather.  Then upstairs, after the ball drop, things turned silent and then noisy as a long time Master and slave owner proposed to his property.

I packed Izrina in the car at 12:30 and rushed her home to bed.  Tonight, she’ll stay at the apartment, rather than the House.  She needs a very long night of rest.  Me.. I’ve got lots more cleaning and work to do here.   I really need to do some light plumbing, and electric today.

So it was a mixed evening.. of challenges and high points.  I won’t truly be happy until my property is safely in bed and getting the missing rest she needs.  By the same token, I won’t dwell on the negatives.. I’ll just do that Master thing where I worry a bit until I ‘m sure all is well.

I posted an update on Fetlife for the House of X, and my goals and thinking are clear.  Well, the work isn’t going to do itself…. time to stop typing and get to it.  Carpe Diem my friends..  Go be someone’s great day!


House of X – Humble beginnings

Every thing and every one, must start somewhere.  The House of X started many years ago in a plan, as a dream, to build a home dedicated to BDSM.  Slaves we agree to take in will not be in sexual service to the Master of the house, but we will enforce protocols and slave training.  The plan is now in its humble beginnings.

There is a tremendous amount of construction that will have to happen before the House of X is ready to take in house slaves.  There will be dust, and confusion, and construction issues.  But the house needs something sold, a steady and dependable aspect.  That will be the 7pm protocol.  This protocol states that dinner will be a sit down dinner served every evening at 7 pm.

So without further ado, I give you the very first 7pm protocol.


The mats, napkins glasses are gold in color. The plates and flatware black. In the back corner sits a cast iron hitching post. If I had four of these, I’d make a new bed. Still, what better place to chain your slave, than to a hitching post. The room has a single corner lamp, and is mostly lit by candles. We have seating for Master X at the end, my slave at my right, and room for three guests. Eventually, we’ll put in hardwood floors and a table for 8-10.

I and some helpers spent the day doing demolition, and removing carpeting.  Everything needs a good cleaning… All in good time.  Humble beginnings are good.

Construction stopped at the estimated time.  The first course was ready about ten minutes early.  The meal called for garlic bread, which was about three minutes late.  But could be excused as long as drinks were served. We’ll work on our timing.

Carpe Diem my friends..  And a happy new year..  Go be someone’s great day!



Incidents in the Life of a Slave Girl

Over the holidays I have been reading a book by a former slave.   An un-consensual slave.  The author is Harriet Jacobs.    The key point I came away with was how strikingly similar the language of the un-consensual slave owner is with the consensual slave owner.

Harriet was a black woman, and the property of a white man.  At around 15 years of age, Harriet’s Master began to take an unwelcome interest in her.  Harriet’s Master wanted to use her body for sex.  This was in a age when a woman’s virtue defined her worth and value.  She was a strong willed and religious woman and the idea of having her virtue stolen was repelling to her.  He tried everything short of torture.  He even built a house where he promised her that she could live as a free woman, as long as she gave him sex when he wanted.  Harriet had no interest what-so-ever in her owner.  She chose to have sex with another white man, and bore children by him.  Under the laws of that time, her owner had the very real and legal right to torture her until nearly dead, or even kill her.  He did not.  He was a doctor and tried to maintain the respect of the community.  If it got out that he tortured his female slave, to steal her virtue, it might taint his reputation.  So he fumed and plotted but never was able to  force this strong willed woman into submission.

Many other slave were not so lucky.  The tortures many endured is unspeakable.   It was not uncommon for an owner or his sons to use the female slaves as sex toys.  In blunt terms to rape them.. or coerce them into submission.  In turn, you would think the wives of these victims would sympathize with and protect them but instead they tended to hate the victims.  They tended to blame the victims for the sins of their men.  And then there is the greatest atrocity of all.  The children born of these rapes… the sons and daughter of the men who committed these acts.. did not get to live with their fathers like normal children.. no!  Often a Master’s son or daughter would be sold immediately so that they wouldn’t have to see their own genes.. their own offspring.. their own faces and features laboring in the fields for them.

These animals sold their own sons and daughters into slavery, rather than face what they had done.  As if the crime of selling your own children wasn’t evil enough, the daughters would be more fair skinned, basically insuring that their next owner would find them more attractive and therefore more likely to be the next generation of rape and coercion.

If Harriet loved her Master, or if she had been bought by the man who fathered her children, perhaps she would have been OK with being a slave, perhaps not.  Harriet was a strong willed woman.  She didn’t love her Master.  He was much older, she much younger.  Surely there was no physical attraction.  And in this age, even a slave, her virtue was something she wished to protect.  She was compelled by law to be his property.   She had no choice in that.  Even so, she refused to be dragged into a dark corner and used.  Choice is everything.  Consent is everything.   Its why we in the BDSM community make a huge deal of consent violation.  Nothing is more critical to a successful Master-slave relation, then consent.

So often, Harriet’s Master said to her.. you are my property.  I can do as I please with your body.   I say these words myself to my own property.   When these words rolled off the tongue of Harriet’s Master, they were evil.  Yet when they roll off mine, both my slave and I see this as something wonderful.   Where does the difference lie?  What changes these words from evil to warmth, is hard for some to see.  My own slave is often strong willed.  She too often resists my directions.. though never for sex.. its more often a small seemingly insignificant thing. But the fact she CAN raise an objection and have it count is important.  The real key is that unlike Harriet, if my slave reaches an impasse, she is free to leave.

Yes, un-consensual slavery is evil.  Yes, it is wrong to take away a persons liberty, their choices and their freedom.  All around us, there are forces at work all the time which seek to nibble away at our choices.  Your body should not be owned by the invisible collective will of the people we call a government.  Seat belt laws, and motorcycle helmet laws are about forcing you to make choices to protect yourself, but these are also tiny little dents into the decisions you can make, the risks you can choose to make with your own body.  Where does it stop?  If you are dying of lung cancer, and know you faced a slow painful death, drowning a little more each day as blood slowly filled your decaying lungs, shouldn’t it be your choice to do with your life, as you will?  Assisted suicide may be something you oppose, but who are we to tell another what they can or cannot do with their life?    We need to hold onto our freedoms, and not give them away to quickly or easily to the faceless collective we call the government.  Even the small concessions are important, because of that thing we call a slippery slope.

What we need and should have is the right to put our trust in who we choose.  If we choose to turn to another, to give our lives into the protection and custody of a Master, why should that not be allowed?  Certainly our faceless, juggernaut of governmental bureaucracy wants this power.  What gives government the right to TAKE with one hand, our right to consent while at the same time denying us the right to GIVE consent with the other hand?  Wherein does that twisted logic lie?  The nameless, faceless collective we call government feels that taking us into protective custody is its right and perhaps even its duty.  But we as free citizens are not allowed to make the very same choice if we turn to an individual for warm, security and protection.  Wherein lies the difference?  What fundamental right of humanity decrees that governments are the only system by which one person may entrust their well being to another?

Our choices are slowly eroding all around us.  In her chains, my slave finds her freedom but that freedom is not the same as being chained to a faceless bureaucracy that knows only the laws and loopholes of its control legitimized by the laws it creates.  It is in the care, the love, and the trust that we share, that my slave dares give this control to me.  And she knows that at anytime, consent can be withdrawn.   Not so with un-consensual slavery, or its doppelganger cousin,  the overbearing government intrusion that invades every aspect or our lives and choices.

Being in a Master and slave relation is not perfect.  Often there are disagreements.  Just today, I had to put my foot down on a decision regarding Izrina.  In the idealized world, every slave is happy to do Master’s bidding and trots off happily at the next task given.. Happy to serve.  Often it IS that way.  Sometimes it is not.  When it is not, I become like a bulldozer.   I am a juggernaut, an unstoppable force that cannot be moved or avoided.  I will have my way.  Not violently, but steady and persistent.  An unmovable force.  When I am like this, it is for the betterment of the house.. no dishes left in the sink, finances organized, a schedule for visits to the gym.  Since I have come into Izrina’s life, many, many things have improved for her.. especially in areas of health and finance… not because I did for her, but because I compelled her to do for herself.   This is the power of a Master.  This is what we bring into a slaves life.  In the nilla world, I could be a life coach, a trainer, an efficiency expert.  I am all these things and more, to my dear property.

The Master slave life isn’t for everyone.  But systems of power are all around us.  Your parents exercised near total control over your early choices.  Police may issue any command and you are compelled to obey under most circumstances.  Your employer holds incredible sway over your decisions as they are the source of that which provides your food, shelter and clothing.  Military groups may compel you to serve, making your body the legal property of the government.. a very real modern day version of slavery.

Yes, un-consensual slavery is wrong and evil.  But so to is any system of power that removes your right to make decisions about your own body, and your possessions.  It must be a fundamental right of every human to pursue what we choose to believe.. and to give our time and service to that which we believe in.  We need to be conscious always of the choices that are taken away from us, and to fight to keep our freedoms.

Yes, the right to give up our freedom too is a right we must fight for as well, as twisted as that may sound.  We all seek a place in society, at various levels, and we must be free to choose at what level we will serve, and to whom.   Because systems of power are normal, we must be free to choose what we are comfortable with, what systems we will give authority to, and which ones we won’t.

Its not a simple subject.   That which seeks to take without consent is evil.   At its essence, no one has a right to use force to take from us.  We all have a right to use force to protect things from being taken from us.  To paraphrase the latest Star Wars, we don’t win by killing what we hate, we win by protecting what we love.

Yeah, it takes thought to figure out what you want, and what contributions you will make to help shape the forces around us.  Never forget that true happiness comes when you are a source of happiness.  When you are someones great day, your own great day is assured.  As you fight the good fight to hold onto your right to choose, never forget that to give is to receive.