Wednesday, December 2, 2009

Nails

As Master expects my nails to at least work with my current outfit, I spend a lot of time painting my finger nails. Sitting there, helpless to pick up anything and reluctant to actually even move my hands, one gets to thinking...whose idea was this in the first place?

Seriously, why should color be painted on the tips of one's fingers for decoration? It seems so needless and unnecessary...I mean, painting the focal point of others' attention is the face, but the nails? Well, needless to say that the smell of nail polish is a great reminder of my silly feminine status, as someone who couldn't possibly go out wearing a green top while having light blue painted nails. No, no, no, that would be so geeky. And of course, it's amazing how many different shades of pink there are. I own several...am I in a sweet cotton candy pink mood, a hot pink daring mood, a fashionable deep pink mood, or what?

Monday, November 30, 2009

Cheer status


There's a lot to say about cheerleading, and Master likes to make sure that I say most of it. It's tough to be the type of empty-headed, smiling ditz he wants me to be without falling into cheerleading at some point, and I thought I'd pass something along that he noticed. Have you ever looked at a shirt or jacket for a cheerleader, professional, collegiate, or other? I mean really looked at it, not the person wearing it?

Notice how this college girl is identified: "Pacific Cheerleader". Not as a member of a team...the shirt isn't about "Pacific Cheerleading" or "Cheer Squad". It's about her...for a true cheerleader, it's all about her. The whole point of getting onto the squad is not to be part of the squad. It's not like other sports, where you get a shirt that says "Pacific Football" or "Pacific Swimming".

Wearing a cheer jacket or shirt doesn't announce of what team you're part...no, it is meant to announce who you are. The whole point is to make yourself, and make clear that you are a cheerleader. Unlike any other sport I know, cheerleading gear is designed not about the team of which you are part, but the identity that you've adopted. Never forget that cheerleading isn't about stunting, or winning competitions...it's about being popular and cute. It's about being a cheerleader.

Tuesday, November 24, 2009

New Moon

Of course, Master made sure that I saw New Moon the first day it was out. Although I didn't have to go to as a girl, I was wearing a New Moon t-shirt, and I know that many in the audience were a little weirded out by this guy sitting there by himself. Of course, had they known I was in Twilight bra and panties, it would have been worse.

Master did play one humiliating trick on me, though. Even as a guy, I was expected to let my "inner girl" cry at some point...and he demanded proof of that crying. How did he get it?

I carefully but thoroughly painted by eyes with eyeliner, typical of any Twilight groupie. Of course, per his instructions, I was to cry at one point in the movie (I couldn't help it when Edward left Bella! How sad!) Master told me I could expect to walk home unless he saw the trails of eyeliner going down my cheeks...leading to a humiliating Saturday night at the local cinema.

Sunday, November 22, 2009

Random

I'm the type of girl who will burst out laughing over something that happened...yesterday.


A favorite quote of "girls like me", that demonstrates one important idea. We cal lit "being random"...the rest of the world calls it mood swings. Hyper, sad, sulky, giddy, silly and more. Master expects me to change moods convincingly and suddenly. To cry over nothing. To laugh over nothing. Sometimes I will find a note somewhere that reads "today you are ____", which tells me that Master expects an instant mood change, no matter how inappropriate, as soon as I find it.

It's called being random.

Thursday, November 12, 2009

How to read CosmoGirl!

I thought I'd take a second to share with you what is expected of me when I read CosmoGirl! You might think it would be a case of sitting down and leafing through the magazine, but CosmoGirl! isn't like most magazines. Rather, it's an authoritative guide on how a girl like me should behave. It's more a textbook than a magazine, and should be treated as such.

Master insists that once I am properly made-up and dressed, I sit down with my mag, a little girlie notebook, a pen, tape, and scissors.

First of all, just read the magazine. The whole thing, cover to cover, and especially the ads. Then begin learning from it. I'm only done reading it when I have done the following:

  • Take every quiz with pen, right in the magazine. Circle your answers.
  • Read every advice article, underlining important ideas. Take notes on the margins, especially if it's something your friends should know.
  • Cut out any clothing in the ads or articles that would like cute on you. Tape it into the notebook with notes about prices, where it's from, what would look cute with it.
  • Cut out any key words or phrases that would work in a collage.
  • Write something for a reader column..."why my boyfriend is the best", "embarrassing moments", "secrets", etc... Master is liable to have me mail them or do so myself.
  • Write an email to a friend about something in the magazine and get her reaction.
I do less work when I read The Economist...

Monday, November 9, 2009

Fashionista

Master has come up with a new way for me to be judged as approaching a girl's point of view. There is a section on Wet Seal's website (www.wetseal.com) where customers can sign up and create outfits and have them judged by users. Basically, outfits pop up at random, and users can declare if they "love it!".

By comparing number of "love it!" ratings with views, one can quickly see how popular one's outfits were. There's even a rating that tells how many times total a girl is told that someone loves her creation. Master tells me that I must create five outfits, and at least one of them must achieve a love it! rating of 25%, which is almost impossible. If I don't achieve that, there will be punishments...and this will continue until I collect 500 plaudits.

If you want to see the outfits I create for myself, head on over to the "Wet Seal Community". My nick is ShiningSweetness...tell me if you like what you see! Please, oh, please...like what you see!

Tuesday, November 3, 2009

Princess Chicken, Part II

(Part II of my Halloween fiction story, "Princess Chicken". Part One is here.)

The first couple got out of the car, and walked up to me. A college couple, the girl already clinging to her man ready to scream and clutch, when his scanning eyes caught me.

"oh...my...hey look at him Yasmin!"

Hands chained down and slightly behind me, there I stood, a vision of frothy white and pink in my Little Miss Muffet costume. A vision of vulnerable femininity as two "real" people" -- a real man that I wasn't, and a real girl I could never be -- stared at me, their humor tickled. I was already reddening before Yasmin licked her ruby lips, forgetting for a second her own fears. "Wow...it sucks to be you!" she laughed on the way by, her eyes clearly tracing the high hemline of my costume. The last look of Yasmin I had was her face twisted back to look over her shoulder, smiling in mid-laugh at this pathetic loser chained up to the entrance.

This established much of the pattern for the evening, as girls delighted in my pitifulness while their men uncomfortably avoided any sign of appreciation -- perhaps they didn't want to end up in a light pink skirt on Halloween themselves. Or suspected of liking such guys. The less scared girls invariably waved good-bye on their way out, snickering into their boyfriends' ear.

It turns out the first half-hour was just a good warmup, because life got a lot more complicated. As the line began to build, pretty soon bored high-schoolers and college kids were eye to eye with me. That's when things really turned embarrassing. They had nowhere to go as they waited their turn, and I was invariably an object of conversation...and soon to be derision.

It started with a group of three girls in matching soccer jackets from a local school. They were carrying on, the way younger women do in an effort to prove just how much fun they are and how much you should wish you were one of them. The boldest one brayed "hey, can I get a picture with you?" I was stuttering out some weak tea, when her friend piped up "Duh...he's chained up, what's he going to do to you?" Giggling, two girls ran up to me wrapping themselves around my sides, smiling for the photo. I couldn't even turn my face or body, I was hemmed in so tight. One girl cupped a "breast", the light flashed, and I was somebody's souvenir.

That was all it took. The night devolved into many flashes as everyone wanted my photo -- alone, in a group, with others...whatever. Sullen boyfriends were marched up to stand beside me. Girls snuggled up to me, knowing their boyfriends would hardly be threatened by such a male-less guy in public. There were even traces of lipstick on my cheek from a couple adventurous kisses...and not a couple hands dived under my skirt in back. I had to endure it all in front of the crowd. An appreciative audience snickered as they got bolder...especially the girl with beer on her breath who loudly declared "this is my brother's phone number" while stuffing some paper in my cleavage.

It stayed there for a while. Who was going to attempt a retrieval?

Although the taboo had been broken, people still played by the rules in front of others. I just found myself wondering what would happen after closing...

Sunday, November 1, 2009

Euphoria


Well, Halloween was awesome. The following is a summary of my night, and every single bit is true. So consider it all italicized.

By about 6pm that night I was in full costume as a honey bee. I was about an hour away, so felt safe from familiar eyes. The costume was basically as shown at left, though I added a couple layers of yellow/black petticoats, a wig with pigtails and a peek-a-boo combed over one eye, makeup, false nails painted yellow rather than black, and fishnet tights. I also had a small clutch yellow purse that looped over my wrist. Barely large enough for cash, ATM card, license, and cosmetics. This led to a frustrating five minutes outside Target as I sifted through my purse looking for my keys, one hand trying to keep my tiered skirts under control. And everywhere I went people loved it. Literally all people.

I started at a donut shop, where of course I bought a honey dipped donut. The cashier just had to call out her co-worker from the back room. They insisted on taking a photo of each other next to me. My appearance was different enough that I agreed.

Then after driving around a bit I went to a grocery store where I bought a small amount of honey. Between taking out my contacts (to increase the feeling of vulnerability) to the hair combed over my face, my vision was iffy. But the cashier waiting outside her register was thrilled. I made her day, she told me repeatedly. She wished me a fun and "buzzzzy" Halloween, and she couldn't wait to go home and change into her own costume. She was positively glowing.

I decided to stop at Target for some fake flowers. An older gentleman with a grey buzzcut looked at me and gave me a thumbs-up. The four cashiers at Target loved it as well...the "best costume she'd ever seen" said one. I actually stayed there for a few minutes and chatted...though one of them couldn't stop laughing.

Everywhere I went I got positive feedback. The courage I must have, I was told, the guts I showed...it was incredibly intoxicating. Complete, utter, endorphin dump.

Now, there were opportunities looking back. There was a Halloween store I could've offered to advertise by standing in front (for a dare, I'd say). Going into a mall, or as I did last year actual trick-or-treating. The scavenger hunt thing never got off the ground. But it was seven kinds of awesome...

Only 364 days to go till the next one.

Sunday, October 25, 2009

A fiction piece: "Princess Chicken"

"Well, we should get you put in place...we're opening in half an hour, and we need to make sure everything is in place." Gus had a mirthful smile on his face, and who could blame him? Me, I swallowed hard, knowing that the moment had I arrived when I would not be able to back out. The idea had come to me after hours spent trying to find the perfect way to humiliate myself around Halloween, a way where I'd be seen for a the girl I was with no way to back out...

"Just follow me," Gus said, as he showed me to a spot just to the right of the entrance. Gus had been the key...he'd managed this for-profit Haunted Thrill House for years now, and he'd known about my other side since one drunk night at college. As a matter of fact, he'd helped push my girlfriend at the time to dress me up as Rainbow Brite for the Halloween of my junior year. What a night that had been!

"Now turn around" he said. I pivoted so my back was to the wall, skirts swishing as I turned.

...I'd approached him with an idea. How about you prove how scary the Thrill House is with a display? A display of one embarrassed guy who couldn't finish it, and was punished appropriately. It would be a little entertainment for everyone waiting in line. Gus had checked with a surprisingly willing owner...

"Right hand first." I held it up, and Gus closed the cuff around my wrist. I stood between and slightly in front of two poles next to the entrance to the Haunted Thrill House. A chain would run from my right cuff, around the two poles behind me, to a cuff clasped over my left wrist. I'd be chained and helpless outside. "And now the left hand." The cuff closed tightly. I wasn't going anywhere until released. Gus looked at my three inch heels, "Hope those shoes are comfy, little girl! I gotta head back inside, so you have fun."

...and the "chicken station" was set up. Tonight, and the Thursday, Friday, and Saturday nights of the next two weeks this would be my station. I can't believe I actually am going through with it, but here I am. Dressed up in a ridiculous "Little Miss Muffet" costume, standing here, trapped. A blodne curly wig blowing around in the breeze, light and sparkly makeup on my face. A trapped vision of frothy pink and white. Tacked above my head was a sign declaring "This princess couldn't handle the Haunted Thrill House...CAN YOU??"

I'm helpless....a silly blonde girl helpless, wondering what the night will bring. Soon enough, the strobes and sound effects were turned on inside, and cars began to enter the parking lot. As the last band of twilight faded to deep night, the first group approached...

Should I continue? Let me know ideas and opinions in the comments...

Friday, October 23, 2009

Well, I'll bee a honey...

Per the most recent poll, it looks like I'll be a little skirted honeybee for Halloween this year, and put the clown costume away. I just gotta figure out what I'm going to do to pass the time...I'd love to find a like-minded person in metro Boston/Worcester to go trick-or-treating with. (Last year, I trick-or-treated two houses but felt that I was kinda creepy, going on my own like that, in my late 20s...)

I may have a poll up later on what you'd like to have me do, and if you can meet in that area, or just want to order me around, you can always email at:


I am also working on the first piece of fiction for the blog, which should be posted by weekend's end.

Tuesday, October 20, 2009

5 Senses

Master is a big believer in dominating in the five senses. For sight, not only do I look at myself dressed in such a humiliating way as a younger girl, but there are posters on my walls, dabs of color on my fingertips, a pink cover on my cell phone. I feel it every moment, with the weight in the bra that clasps my mid-section, the short hem brushing against my legs.

Of course, there's smell and taste, which are almost the same sense. There's a reason I have to refresh my lip gloss every five minutes, to make sure that taste of sickly sweet cotton candy is on my lips and in my nose. Same reasons that I have to spray cotton candy perfume all the time, so I smell sweet. Another reason that Master won't let me eat beef is that's a "man's taste" and a girl like me shouldn't know it. All this so that even if I close my eyes, my senses scream that I am a girl.

The hardest thing, oddly enough, is to engage the sense of sound. I don't sound like a girl, at best like a man trying to sound like a girl. Master likes having me listen to Miley Cyrus a lot on my mp3 player, and when the stereo isn't going I often contend with the tinkling of my cheap jewelry from Claire's shifting...the multiple necklaces, arm bangles, etc. Master is always looking for ways to fill my ears with the sounds a girl like me should hear.

I really don't have much of a chance.

Sunday, October 18, 2009

514

When Master caught me sitting somewhere with my purse out of reach for the third time in one day last week, I knew that I was in serious trouble. And yesterday I paid the price.

Master brought me to a commuter rail station last night. I was dressed in my finery of course...glittery makeup, twin ponytails, a pink cheerleading sweatshirt, matching pink shoes and purse, and denim miniskirt. Master had me sit with the purse in my hands, and looped the handle through a chain. Finally, the chain was wound around a pole next to the bench, and attached to each wrist with luggage locks.

So here I was, all girled up and unable to go anywhere. Master told me to look in my purse for help, and that the next train was due in half an hour. I'm starting to shake a little (it was a COLD day for a miniskirt) when I unzipped my purse and found a list of three-digit numbers.

Like a ditz, I stared at the numbers for a couple minutes before I realized. Three-digit numbers. These luggage locks have three-digit numbers. If I find the right one in time, I can escape without being seen. I found one halfway through the list, clutching it tightly against the wind. 5-3-8 But which wrist? Being a lefty I dialed it into the right wrist. No good. So the next one, and the next...

I could see that cars were starting to pull up awaiting the train to disgorge its passengers when it arrived. No clean getaway on this one. 103. Nothing. 661. Nothing. I'm licking my lips in concentration. 8...4...4 nothing. Then...duh.

514. Of course. I should have known as soon as I saw it. Sure enough, it dialed in. I grab my purse, and set off as quickly as I can, my heels clicking on the pavement. It was hours before I let go of my purse again.

Friday, October 16, 2009

Honey...


After due consideration, I think I'm going to be a honey bee for Halloween this year. As you see on right, it's a little dress with black and yellow ruffles, wings, a belled collar, arm warmers, and antennae. It's sexy, girlish, an silly. Admittedly short on pink, but I think a good choice.

I would desperately love some guidance for that day...the scavenger hunt idea flopped, and just wandering around seems a waste of a day. Any time of instruction, assignment, or other thing would be wonderful. Just sayin'.

I may send pics of me dressed up, if it comes out all right...I'm still working on getting the wig just right.

Monday, October 12, 2009

Girl games

Add to my list of things I didn't know...there are now pink, "girl" editions of Scrabble (with the board highlighting the word "fashion") and Monopoly. That way, when I lose because I'm just a ditz, at least my game is cute just like me...

Better still is Twister Pink. Master enjoys spinning the wheel, watching me get all bent out of shape, twisted in my extra long necklace, and fighting to keep my hair out of my face. He's got a whole folder of me on the Twister Board in his computer, Master tells me....

Sunday, October 11, 2009

So...yeah....

I seem to have a bit of writer's block at the moment. Nothing really outstanding going on vis-a-vis Master that you'd want to hear about. Halloween is still proceeding apace, but with no responses to my scavenger hunt idea I am guessing people are sick of hearing about it.

What DO you want to hear about?

Sunday, October 4, 2009

Sorry for the silence

Sorry I've been so quiet lately, but real life has been interfering a bit more than usual. I haven't forgotten you all, or some of what I want to post. I've been also equipping myself for Halloween, and have almost everything I need in hand...that's where I would like to ask you all something.

I'm thinking of doing a scavenger hunt this Hallowe'en while in costume. This will give me impetus to wander around, and a pre-printed list looks "official" and believable. Items in the hunt can be pictures in specific places or with people, buying certain objects, etc. In any case, I'd need to gather say 8 of 10 before I could consider my evening complete. This may be the best way to give me purpose and make use of the night.

I'm considering turning over the composition of the list over to my readers. For instance, I could collect ideas and have all of you vote on a top ten, or something like that. What do you think?

Thursday, September 24, 2009

Game Day

Well, as we come up another Sunday, I thought I'd share with you the experience of watching football in the presence of Master. Last week was my first time and I was frankly surprised that he informed me that we'd be watching the game ... I'd figured he'd merely send me off to watch Twilight for the seventeenth time. To prepare for the game, he made sure that I would be properly dressed. We're both New Englanders and are consequently big Patriot fans. Master was in a comfortable t-shirt and jeans, but not me.

For me, my usual football wear is a pink Tom Brady jersey that shows off my lil boobs and a white skirt...with pink and white accessories to match. Master took it upon himself to make my fandom more emphatic by taping my hands around the handles of some pink and white pompoms he'd had me buy. Thus any movement was classical cheerleader rahrah, and as a bonus I was essentially tied up.

We watched the pregame show, him chomping on nachos and me chomping on gum. Then they broke for the commercial right before the kick-off, and Master turned the sound down, and faced me.

He said to me "Ashlee, you're doing an adorable job trying really hard to pretend that you know what's going on. But we both know girls like you don't understand football, and it's probably really hurting your little brain to try. So I'm going to make life easier for you..."

With that, he produced a pair of drugstore eyeglasses -- women's naturally -- which he carefully placed on my head. My vision became not quite but almost useless, and of course I couldn't remove the glasses with Master right there, and my hands uselessly clinging to my pompoms. I could still see very blurry forms on the tv, but had to rely on the audio to understand. I felt ridiculous sitting there with my pompoms, moaning or cheering long after Master knew what had happened, as I relied on the commentators to relay information. I would perch there in my little skirt holding my pom-poms, brow furiously wrinkled, trying to follow the game.

I was screwed either way -- I could stay there looking and acting like a ditzy airhead unable to understand football, or I could flounce away...looking and acting like a ditzy airhead giving up on understanding football.

Sunday, September 20, 2009

Bedtime

I got a couple emails wondering what bedtime was like for me on the rare occasion I can sleep at Master's. Here's the deal...

First thing is getting ready for bed. I change into my nightclothes...usually just an extra large t-shirt with Edward from Twilight on it. Next is brushing my teeth with bubble-gum scented kids' perfume. Seems half of what I do is either bubble gum or cotton candy. I wash off my makeup and brush my hair (wig) at least 50 times...counting out loud of course.

Mind you, I'm still in bra...Master insists upon it.

Hair done, I enter the bedroom. Depending on how good I was in the day, many things can happen. This is where the spankings happen, for instance. Up to ten painful, humiliating swats. As I have to count out loud and thank him for every hit.

Either way, Master likes to have me get on my knees and pray out loud for five minutes at least, for all the things a girl like me should be thankful for. He likes to hear me thank God for him making me the best cutest girl I can be. Then I kiss all my posters goodnight...."goodnight, Edward"....thanks for that one!

Then it's to bed. Master insists I sleep with a sleep mask on, and with my bra and boobies still in so I get used to the weight on my chest. This means I sleep on my back. The music or messages for the night come on, and the pink sheets and bed canopy are drawn up around me. I don't normally sleep on my back so sleep comes slow.

Master and I have a compromise...he'd like me to be completely bound to bed, but there are safety issues. So what happens is that my wrists are tied to the bedposts with lightweight string. Enough that if I were to jerk on them, they'd snap. Of course, Master would know this and there would be severe punishment for leaving bed without good reason or permission (and no the bathroom doesn't count). I could even lose our time together.

Another favorite is to run a needle through a heart shaped pillow, a teddy bear, or some girlish thing...then tie it to my arms so I have no choice but to hug it as I sleep.

So there is an "emergency exit" but that's it. I toss and turn, unable to see...to cancel out the messages over the stereo, to get the sweet bubble gum taste and scent away. It's a wonder my dreams aren't more girlish...

Thursday, September 17, 2009

Help

I need your help. At right is one of the two costumes I'll be wearing Halloween -- a clown costume designed for a woman. There's a lot that's right with it. Clowns are objects of laughter to begin with, and this delightful red ruffle, shiny fabric, bright colors, the bib that goes right over the chest, and a silly little hat that rests on (not over) the head, held up by a headband. Naturally it comes with a red clown nose. All very good.

I plan on wearing some extras...maybe pink hearts painted on my cheeks and matching pink tights. Nevertheless, my concern is that the outfit is not feminine enough. It's girlish, but if it's a "girl clown" the emphasis is on clown, rather than girl.

So I'm asking for ideas. I was planning on dying the fabric pink, but this is polyester, so I don't think that would work. I could attach pink ribbon on some places, or perhaps go to town with pink glitter fabric paint. I really don't know how to make this clown costume more girlish and I really would appreciate your ideas.

On the other hand, I could just go for pink hair, tights, shoes, and sleeves, and leave the costume as is...

My other costume choice will be revealed later on.

Wednesday, September 16, 2009

Sublinable

Text-to-speech. Let's face it, the programs such as ReadPlease don't sound vaguely human, with their oft-hilarious pronunciation. But they can prove useful.

I was wondering about the succession of essays Master had me write over the last few weeks...even more than usual for him. Titles of recent writings have included:
"Why I love wearing cute skirts"
"Why I must wear nail polish every day"
"Why I would die for cotton candy perfume"
"How to flirt with a cute boy"

It was especially strange that after writing them, I had to type them in. Figured it was just practice using my long nails. It wasn't just hours of drudgery it turns out. Last night, Master was putting me to bed. (What that consists of is in an upcoming post). However, I was at last in place, having kissed my posters goodnight -- thanks for that one -- and safe-n-secure in my bed. Then it happened.

Instead of simply leaving, Master brought in my laptop, loading something from a thumb drive, fiddling, and then leaving. And as he did I began to hear my essay in a rough computer voice. But I'm lying there, unable to turn it off, and I'm hearing all about my I love wearing cute skirts.

Well, of course, the program ran all night...I woke up to hearing why girls are no good at math. All night long these words had worked into my brain...who knows where they ended up.

Monday, September 14, 2009

Assignments?

Is it too much to hope that a loyal reader or 3 might give me an assignment in keeping with my little fantasy life here? You may require photographic proof if need be.

Nothing too crazy ("wear sheer white clothing, dark pink bra and panty, and go into a sex shop buying a dildo"). Something I'd actually be able, willing to do. Let's push the limits...

Puzzle girl

So I'm not much for puzzles. They strike me as boring and difficult, and that's when I'm not tied to a chair, and trying to complete them with long nails.

Yep, that's right...one of Master's more favorite things to do is to sit me down with a 500-piece custom puzzle. He's upped his rates lately, and this allows him to buy these custom puzzles of letters I've had to write or stars I supposedly adore. I don't get an example to work from naturally, so I end up just doing as well as I can.

Don't worry, he plays that subliminal crap to help pass the time.

Balloons

A girl "like me", as Master likes to point, still has a less mature side, and he makes sure that I indulge that all the time. Sure, I'm constantly checking my makeup, tugging at the hem of my skirt that's always too short, but I'm not grown up yet. And I get constant reminders of that.

For instance, girls like me love balloons. In reality, I despise them, so Master makes sure that I spend a lot of time dealing with balloons. I'll often be given one for any special occasion...lots of good luck Mylar balloons for example, or just regular helium ones "just because" -- pink and white usually.

Master will then smilingly tie them to my wrist, where my long nails make it nearly impossible to untie them, or even my ponytails. Do you have any idea what a pain it is to try to cook dinner with a pink balloon constantly bobbing up into your face, or in your way? As always, I am punished if I show any annoyance. Instead, under Master's eye, I can only giggle and push it out of the way.

Because girls like me looove balloons. You can tell by the squeal I make each time he brings one home.

Sunday, September 13, 2009

Decorated

Well, following instructions from the latest poll, my room now has three Twilight posters up around the walls. This Edward guy is really creepy in the posters, and I'm not really looking forward to seeing them all the time...thank goodness they don't glow in the dark.

Master told me that since I would be kissing them goodnight every night, I should become accustomed to their placement. I spent the next hour being blindfolded and spun around, then having to guess where the actor's lips were on the poster. Some severe spankings later, I'd gotten a good idea of their approximate place.

Now, before I slip on my sleepmask and try to make me bra tolerable for the night's sleep, I'll be smooching these posters. Thanks, everyone.

Wednesday, September 9, 2009

Narrowed down

Well, with obsessive websurfing and consideration, I'm starting to narrow down my costume. My considerations were to find a costume that was girlish and what I call insignificant. "Insignificant" not in terms of the fabric used, but rather in the message it sends that I'm just a silly little girl, not important. There are women's costumes (such as SuperGirl) that are paragons of strength and power. That's not for me.

Other bonuses were props I'd have to carry, as well as involving my hair or face. The idea of there being part of my costume that I can't see makes me feel even more vulnerable...not sure why.

The greatest check on my choices is that, well, I've gained a bit of weight over the last year. I'm going to shed several pounds between now and then, but my options are limited. Thus, as much as I like Lindsay-Marissa's ideas of a fairy princess costume on offer, I simply couldn't do it justice. All things considered, then, here are the final options.

I welcome your comments, and will narrow it down to the top 3 by the end of the week. In no particular order...


  • Pink devil. Pros: cute. A pink devil hits the "don't take me seriously" vibe a girl's costume should have. Looks feminine. Tails and pitchfork fun to play with. Cons: Perhaps too emphatically strong for a girl like me, tough to find just the right type of pink devil costume.
  • Rainbow Brite. Pros: Feminine, arm sleeves a plus. Lots of colors. I get to carry a wand. Cons: arguably more gay than feminine, and the cartoon is very old. Doesn't play as easily into a personality.
  • All-star baseball player. Pros: Pink, ridiculous, a dress. Wearing a pink glove just makes it more ridiculous, not to mention the bubble gum. Cons: A little tomboyish for my taste. Dress could be a little tight.
  • Minnie Mouse. Pros: Girlish though not pink, definitely feminine. It's a classic, and updated to be a little flirtier. Cons: A little shopworn
  • "Ex-spelled". Pros: A great combo of witch and schoolgirl. It's pink and flirty. Cons: It may be a little tight on me. I'd have to do some alterations.
  • Honeybee. Pros: cute, feminine. Many costumes have a flouncy little skirt, and I'd feel ridiculous wearing little bee wings and antennae on my head. The yellow is noticeable. Sunflowers could make for a nice prop. I could accessorize easily enough. Cons: Not hugely feminine (no pink), and the stripes make me look fat.
  • Witchy LaBouf. Pros: Pink and flirty. Nice tulle skirt, and the ribbons would feel ridiculous. Cons: Also perhaps a little tight, and the whole witch thing might be a little predictable.
  • Goldilocks. Pros: Feminine, frothy with a cute yellow pinafore. Girlish -- would make sense to literally skip around. Cons: No headgear, kind of a repeat of last year's fairy tale costume.
I may be over the top with the planning on this one, but Halloween is such a rare and wonderful opportunity to be myself. I want to express my girlish side as truly as possible.

Truth be told, I have on favorite...but what say you?

Monday, September 7, 2009

Initiation time


As students file back to school in early September, for many "girls like me" part of life is the initiation! Due to being a freshman, a rookie, a transfer, or whatever reason, it's time to go through the humiliation of being bossed around by older girls.

It starts in the morning...you report to a certain place. Someone's home. The first step is to put a ridiculous costume on you. Vivid tights, a tutu, a tiara -- whatever will attract unwelcome attention and ridicule from everyone else. You're marked as belonging to the squad, class, whichever.

Garish makeup is probably applied to make the effect worse, especially since you can't see what they're doing to you. Your hair messed up as well.

A sign isn't out of the question. It might declare loyalty to an upperclassman, or invite people to help humiliate you. You'll be paraded around public places, made to sing songs or do the teapot dance. The upperclassmen will laugh as people going about their everyday lives stop and stare. At school, the cell phones come out as your humiliation is recorded in photo and video form. Laughing upperclassmen watch as you're paraded around, perform at lunch, ask boys to marry you, and all manner of horrid trials. Of course, you're supposed to smile through the whole thing to be a "good sport".

All this so you can do it again to a poor girl in a couple years. So you can belong to a clique that will turn on you in a second. So you have a label. A girl like you and me wouldn't have it any other way.

Saturday, September 5, 2009

Self-critiquing

As I mentioned in a couple earlier posts, I've mastered the dance to "Let's Go Crazy" by Hannah Montana. Consequently, I was recently asked to perform it for Master. I got dressed up in my dance outfit (the shirt mentioned in the earlier post, matching red shorts that read "Dancer" on the rear, a little hat, and jewelry galore) to perform it. I felt I did pretty well. I was asked all sorts of questions -- was I flirty enough? Cute enough? Rhythmic enough?

Well, Master had me go out of the room for a few minutes to refresh my makeup. When I returned, I was told to sit in an armchair in the living room. Master cuffed my ankles and wrists down and did something dirty -- he turned out the videotape of me doing the dance. For the next twenty minutes I had the humiliation of dissecting my own girly dance, defending my claim that I was a flirty, rhythmic girl. He'd play a section, and ask me what I felt I did right and wrong. For twenty long minutes I watched myself dressed up, flailing about in a completely girlish routine. Naturally, when done, Master informed me that I could do a lot better, and I had better get used to seeing myself on tv...

Thursday, September 3, 2009

More how-to videos

Well, Master has discovered the power of YouTube as a teaching tool in the wake of last week's dance routines. What he has done now is to track down ironic "instructional videos" on how to be girly or "preppy" and have me watch them, and memorize the lessons. The makers of these videos are using stereotypes, and he wants me to fulfill them. Here's a couple as a sample...





As you can see, it's the spaciest, shallowest type of image possible...just what Master wants from me.

Tuesday, September 1, 2009

Tis the season

In my world, September 1st means among other things that beginning of Halloween season. Let's face it, I'm fairly obsessed with the day. And the opening salvo is having to consider what costume to buy or make, and how to spend the day. Considering that this year H-ween falls on a Saturday, the options are even greater than usual.

My plan is to spend the day in 1 or 2 costumes befitting a teenaged girl, and enter into public situations. Last year was a thrill, and I'm hoping for more this year.

I would love plenty of ideas, suggestions, and advice. Though there are a few costumes that appeal to me especially, I would start by throwing it open -- what type of costume would you suggest I make, create, or find? Some tips:

Just dressing "like a girl" doesn't cut it. I want to dress in a costume a teenaged girl would dress up in. Go here for an idea of what I'm talking about.

What interests me the most is a costume that makes it impossible to take the wearer seriously. There are two ways to that -- either a costume whose identity is inherently laughable (such as Strawberry Shortcake last year) or a costume executed in a such a girlish ridiculous way, like this "baseball" costume in pink with a tiny skirt.

Sadly, a costume that doesn't show off too much...I'm losing weight, but I'm no Slim Jim (or Jane).

I may have a gallery of options up soon, but for now I'm happy to leave it open....ideas?

As for activities, I think the list is severely curtailed by a lack of a partner in crime. Let's face it...someone my age trick-or-treating in an above-mentioned costume is just creepy. I think the ideal experience might be similar to what this girl endured on her birthday...being dressed up, paraded around, and kissed by people encouraged by her friends...all while blindfolded. I wish.

Saturday, August 29, 2009

Assignment done



Master set me the assignment to write an essay in acceptably girlish handwriting, and the first suggestion was that I describe "Why I'm proud to be a cheerleader". Thus, my assignment was to write an essay that looks and reads as if it could have been written by a teenaged cheerleader. At right is an image of the assignment completed. Master would encourage my visitors to offer critiques and grades, and even suggested punishments or rewards depending on your opinion of my finished work.

Arm bangles

One of the most effective ways Master has changed my movements are with arm bangles. I'm sure there's a more official name for them, but a "girl like me" couldn't understand such large words, so that's what I call them.

Arm bangles are not hard to make. Simply create a large circle with wire or some hard but malleable material. The circle should be wide enough so you can insert your clenched fist through them without touching the sides. Attach a bell, such as for a cat, to the bangle. Now you're done. (Master often has me make implements of my own submission so I remember how weak I am that I would make it easier for him to torment me.)

It works pretty simply...just put at least one bangle on each arm. The catch is that if I am caught grasping a bangle, I am severely punished. If the bangle falls to the floor -- and it will be obvious if it does, thanks to the bell, I get punished. All this means that I spend much of my time trying to keep them from falling off.

This sounds easy, but what if you drop something? Well, I have to crouch down like a girl, hold out one arm, and carefully lift the other with my wrist bent up to keep the bangle from falling off. If I'm folding laundry, I have to hold things chest high and again keep my wrists bent. Soon enough, you're moving with extra delicacy because of these things, because a bad tinkle means punishment is on the way...

Thursday, August 27, 2009

You'd think I'd learn


After the sweatshirt incident, you'd think I'd learn. So when Master tells me that I would be wearing a tie and collared shirt ("no tricks") I got overly excited when I should have been trying to figure out the catch. He asked me to choose between a green or yellow tie, or both....I thought I was being smart for asking for the less noticeable color of green.

At right is a close approximation of the outfit I spent the day in. The too-short tie, the leggings, the ridiculous hat, the lace sculpting on the top...I'd have felt more masculine in a baby tee than in this "shirt and tie combination".

Master is doing a brutal job making it clear that I can only pretend to be masculine, and even when I wear a man's sweatshirt or a tie and collar, I'm only pretending. Of course, to reinforce it, Master had me do a photo shoot engaging in all manner of "back to school photoshoot" activities...balancing a book on my head, writing "I will not chase the boys" on lines, facing the camera, holding an apple. Naturally, he also reinforced my ditzy side with photos of me reading a book upside down, receiving a "D" on a test, etc.

PS: On updates, I have learned the "Let's Get Crazy" dance (more on that later) and am working on my essay about why it's great to be a cheerleader. I'm out of a town for a few days, but the essay will be scanned on once I get back.

Monday, August 24, 2009

Glossy


Although trends come and go, women rarely "grow out of" a particular kind of makeup. Lipstick ad eyeshadow are two that they'll wear for most, if not all of their life. There is one type of makeup, however, that tends to be a phase. It's a phase in which I'm in the middle, and it's the lip gloss phase. It's an intense phase...this photo is one girl's collection submitted to a lip gloss website.

There are probably a few reasons for this, and they have to do with what lip gloss does to your experience. First of all, it's addictive. Use lip gloss for two days, and your lips start to expect the moisture. They dry out in reaction. Soon enough, the only way to feel comfortable is to...use lip gloss. That's why girls like me are always refreshing it in our mirror...we need to. So the expectation that I refresh my lipgloss (using a compact of course) about every ten minutes is hard to forget, or resist.

The second reason is as Lil' Mama said it in her song:

My lip gloss is poppin'
My lip gloss is cool
All the boys keep jockin'
And they chase me after school
See, lip gloss makes your lips shiny and noticeable. Slick, and wet-looking...in other words, the whole point of lip gloss is to make boys think "I'd like to kiss those lips". That's why Lip Smacker makes products called "color kiss duos". It's a way of saying you're available and looking. Mature "women" don't want to seem so needy, but girls like me don't mind. As a bonus, there's always glitter to make your desires clear, and Master thinks that my lips are adorable in a coat of glitter.

Finally, there's the flavors. In liquid Lip Smackers come in ten of them, everything from strawberry kiwi to pink lemonade. Master quickly ascertained that the flavors that had least appeal to me were bubble gum and cotton candy -- both pink things of course -- so that is all I'm allowed to buy. Cotton candy being my least favorite, Master has of course commanded that I wear cotton candy perfume at all times.

As I've learned, one other aspect of lip gloss is for branding. If a boy tells me he likes blueberry flavor, for example, I can coat my lips in blueberry, then wear the lipgloss on a chain around my neck, telling him that I've branded my lips for his enjoyment. It's not that far from an actual collar, and a humiliating experience.

Wednesday, August 19, 2009

Writing

Master is emphatic about "proper" handwriting as well. "Proper" handwriting for a girl "like me" has many facets, which generally mean that it takes a long time to do, and it almost unreadable as real communication. There are many aspects of it, but I'll give you a simple taste:

  • I's are dotted by circles, hearts if I am to be writing something about "love"
  • Large open loops in all letters
  • Cursive
  • Common words such as "to" and "for" are to be replaced by numbers
  • Use of Internet speak (lol, ttyl, etc.)
  • Any long word (usually 8 letters or more) must be misspelled
  • Lots of exclamation marks

I mention this because Master has decided that my latest assignment should be a solid page (or two) or girlish handwriting on a subject of my readers' choice. So I beg you to leave in the comments what should be the subject of my writing assignment. When I am done, it will be scanned in and posted on this blog. Some suggestions from Master:

  • A love note to a Twilight actor, or a putative crush in school
  • Lines repeating some essential thought ("I would die without my lip gloss")
  • A long rhyming poem about a girlish subject ("Nail polish is great")
  • An essay on an appropriately girlish opinion (why it's important to be cute)

I'll take anything else. Master will choose from any subjects left here, or possibly subject it to a vote.

Failed attempt

All of the following post is true.

Well I gathered some courage the other day to make my earlier post about being a "birthday girl" a reality. It was at best a partial success. What I did is visit two party stores in the area. At each of them, I asked a salesgirl for some help. I explained that I was helping a friend throw together a last-minute 13th birthday party for her younger sister, and I had been enlisted. Her family has a tradition of loading down the birthday girl with all manner of embarrassing items to call attention to her, and could she help me select some things that would be appropriate to such an age.

The lady at the first place simply didn't "get it" so I excused myself after a few minutes. In the second store however, I was certainly more helped. I walked out of there with a pink furry light-up tiara that reads "birthday princess" and matching light-up wand. A pink floral lei, "birthday girl" sash and pink and silver sunglasses. I happily paid for them. So far a success.

Here is the failure. On the way out, I handed the cashier a card in my best girlish handwriting that explained that I was unknowingly shopping for materials to pay off a bet, wherein I would be the center of my own 13th birthday party. As a thank you, an email address was written in the card inviting the store clerk to send a message requesting birthday pictures or even a visit from the "birthday girl". It was an admitted longshot but worth the attempt...and true to form, I have not received an email and doubt that I will. I shall always wonder the staff's reaction.

Regardless, it made for an interesting afternoon, and I do have pictures of my so dressed up, unwrapping some makeup and outfits, drinking punch fro ma Jonas Brothers paper cup, and blowing out the candles on a small pink frosted cupcake that had been pushed into my face off a Jonas Brothers plate. There was of course always potential for more fun, but it was decent for a solitary birthday...

Friday, August 14, 2009

Dancer girl


Well, YouTube has certainly made Master's life easier. His latest thing is to have me learn via tutorials on YouTube made by other girls on everything from smiling to makeup. You'd be amazed what's out there. Between eBay and YouTube, people are doing his work for him.

Anyway, as part of my training, Master likes to have me dance. Not just the kind of dance I like to do, the spontaneous, heartfelt, uplifting stuff, but the step-by-step choreographed stuff that "girls like me" enjoy to do -- nice, safe stuff. So he has decided that I need to learn a Hannah Montana dance, and you can decide which dance it is. I'm embedding three tutorials...watch and tell me which I should have to learn. (PS: To my right is what I'll be wearing as I dance.)

Choice 1 - "Let's Get Crazy!"


Choice 2 - "Hoedown Throwdown"


Choice 3- "Let's Chill"

Tuesday, August 11, 2009

I'd like to be: birthday girl

Sadly, real life has gotten in the way of my time with Master, but I thought I'd post another "girl I'd like to be".

I imagine it being my thirteenth birthday, and my friends are of course dedicated to embarrassing me as much as possible. So I'm dressed up in a light-up sash that reads "birthday girl", a light-up wand and a tiara over my usual clothing. A pink helium balloon is tied to my wrist. I'm sent to walk through the mall with them and endure everyone's stares as they take me to a shopping spree, then home toa birthday cupcake with pink frosting...

Friday, August 7, 2009

"Creative and appropriate" restrictions

I have mentioned in previous posts that Master often finds a need to enhance my focus by restricting my movements, but I should expand a little more on that. Master will occasionally simply chain my legs to a desk or tie my hands behind my back, but he usually does what he calls "creative and appropriate" restrictions since such situations don't "fit" with how I'm being trained to act. This is more subtle and insidious, and I'll give a couple examples below.

A few weeks ago, I was doing some lines that I'd been assigned when Master asked where my purse was. Concentrating on the torturous process of achieving the curvy, spare girlish handwriting that he demands, I responded with a somewhat flippant "I dunno...maybe in the other room." Master believes that my purse should always be within reach wherever I am, even if I have to tuck it over my shoulder to go to the kitchen to get a glass of water. As he says, a girl like me always needs her cell and makeup within reach.

So my lines were interrupted by some "creative and appropriate bondage" to teach me respect and proper priorities. Master tied two strings of high tensile fishing wire to my thumbs. I was told to hold my purse by its strap by both hands in front of my waist, after which he wove the fishing line around the strap and my fingers before tying it off. When he was done, I was unable to let go of my purse, but the fishing line was so thin that it looked as if I were just sweetly standing there, holding my purse in front of me with two hands. I spent two hours like that, unable to separate my arms or put my purse down...I learned my lesson.

In another example, I've come to own a pink, heart-shaped pillow with a plastic sleeve for a photo. Sometimes when preparing for sleep, a line of fishing wire is threaded through the pillow. A photo of my current celebrity crush is inserted to the sleeve, I hug the pillow to my chest, and the line is tied off on my wrists and upper arms, leaving me unable to stop hugging the photo to my chest as I sleep.

Master often mentions how this method of bondage doesn't just restrict my movement but reinforces proper behavior. As a bonus, he likes to point out that it is rather subtle, and the fishing line is not readily apparent. If I had my hands tied around, say, shopping bags and were dropped off at the mall, it would seem as if I were happily and voluntarily dressed like "the girl I really am" and ready for a day of shopping, even though I was actually tied up in front of everyone.

Master is also considering this approach for Halloween. If I am instructed to go with a costume, he talks about "tying me into" a prop that goes with it, leaving my utterly vulnerable. So for instance with the costume to the right, a pink pitchfork would have two holes bored through for fishing line. The line would be tied around my fingers, leaving unable to let go of the pitchfork...and helpless while on display.

Wednesday, August 5, 2009

What I need to know

A busy week this week, but in response to some emails I figured I'd just tell you a taste of what I'm supposed to have in my head at all times....this is the current "crush chart", details of which I am expected to regurgitate upon demand. All these boys I am supposed to be thinking and talking about. It's fictional, just an exercise in training my brain the right way, but Master is very serious about it. A similar chart exists for girls, and it's disturbing how much mental power it's taking up to keep all this straight, the way that "girls like me" naturally do...









NameCutest featurePopularityCurrent gfChance with himHistory
JoshsmilesomenoneeasyNone
Austineyesa lotKylee, but they're fightingPretty goodDated for a month
Kevinmusclesa lotJaynanot muchMade out on a dare
Aaroneverything!maxChloe & Kaitlynlow :(I wish!
FelipeeyessomeNeveahEasyHis older sis paid me to date him for a month
Nicklegsa lotLilianIf I flirt hard enoughPicked him for spin the bottle last month!


Sometimes I'm asked a casual question. Occasionally I take a quick 7-question quiz. Unlike skool where any grade above 80% is punishable, I am lucky to "get away with" missing one question...

Monday, August 3, 2009

Diet

Master in considering making me vegetarian. He says that girls like me don't like meat, and anyway feel bad about killing cut "aminals" such as cows and chickens. Plus, meat just makes me fat.

Master has taken to describing how much fun it would be to sit me down somewhere in front of a salad and have to watch him enjoy a steak...and have to refuse if he offered me any. Or to take me to McDonald's and have me order a salad.

Speaking of fast food, one thing Master keeps saying is how funny it would be to dress me up as the "real me" and send me into Burger King after one of their cardboard crowns. When he talks like that for too long, it usually ends up happening...

Friday, July 31, 2009

Not happening, but this might...

I've been to four Forever 21s, and I can't find that top anywhere I earlier mentioned. They arrange their merchandise rather haphazardly, so there is a small chance I missed it -- though I do spend about half and hour in each store as I look around, and I ask the clerk where it could be. So this may not happen.

However, an idea did come to mind. The deal is: help me refine it, and I'll tell you every detail of what happens:

1. Go into a party store and search for a sympathetic and gullible clerk -- probably someone younger. Tell her that I am looking to buy anything/everything for a teenager's birthday party that would make sure that the birthday girl is an embarrassed center of attention. I will likely end up with a wand, tiara, sash, who knows what else. The more the better.
2. When asked who this stuff is for, say that I'm not really sure, I'm just helping out a friend. I actually lost a bet and part of the payoff "I guess" is running errands for her.
3. After being helped, hand over a sealed envelope. Inside is a note saying that I'm unwittingly buying supplies for my own 13th birthday party. The true pay-off of the bet is that I'm the one who will be wearing all the supplies. In a humiliating episode to be captured on camera, I will blow out a candle on my own pink cupcake, and even unwrap a couple outfits. The note ends with an email address - if the clerk wants to see me as the "birthday girl" they can send a photo as thanks, or even have me visit the store on my "birthday", in a new outfit, maybe to pick up a balloon.

What do you think? I personally believe that people are pretty credulous and if the right clerk is picked it just might work...

Wednesday, July 29, 2009

How smart am I? Not very.

The two crimes for which Master most frequently punishes me are "not being boy crazy enough" and "being too smart".

The other day, he came up with a very fiendish punishment for being too smart. I was dressed in a typical outfit for me. I was wearing white capris, pink converse all-stars, pink bracelets, and a black tee with a pink glitter skull on it. Also several bangle bracelets. As a touch, master had put on long black nails on my fingers. A somewhat but not really goth look.

The nails would prove to be a problem. Master drove me to a movie theatre near dusk and had me stand near a light pole toward the front of the parking lot. He took a short chain, and snugly locked my waist (through a belt loop) to the pole. And he handed me one of these. The key to the lock was placed inside a plastic transparent cube. To unlock it, a small marble had to be rotated through a maze to a latch, where unlocking it would result in opening it. Master suggested I could prove how smart I was, as the longer it took, the more people would see me. Basically, I was trapped there as a girly girl until I solved the maze.

So here I was, in a frilly feminine outfit, struggling with long nails to maneuver a marble around a maze in dim light, with nowhere to go. Several people saw, and a few laughed...as I learned to my chagrin that no, I'm not that smart.

Monday, July 27, 2009

Holding pattern

The tank top to which I linked in my last post is hard to find...I've scoured two different Forever 21s without seeing one. I'm getting bummed out.

Sunday, July 26, 2009

You decide my fate...


First off, thanks to "teensissy" for her comment on my last post. Nice to know somebody is reading...

Second, take the time to download the latest production from SissyTrainer...it's about how to raise a teen sissy, and you may enjoy it. I liked it, but it's a shame the clothing pictures are so small!

Finally, we're going to try something new. Today, I am buying a top that I noticed and thought was just perfect for this time of year. It's from Forever 21 and is pictured at right. Here are the reasons that it's a great piece of clothing:

1. The cut -- a raceback tanktop like this means that your bra straps will be visible in the back. It is also cut a bit short to show the midriff...very important. The straps are too thin to be a boy's tank top as well. Regardless of printing, clearly a girl's top.

2. The message. Notice the use of the word "boys" -- this isn't for a woman or a mature young woman. This is for teenagers who still think of the opposite sex of boys. It also talks about camp, perhaps a combo football/cheer camp. But the abject message in unrestrained admiration, if not devotion, to "cute" boys -- something worth thanking God for.

Chances are, this will sell almost equally to college students at liberal arts colleges who wear this ironically as it will to teen girls who wear it in sincerity. Girls "like me" are clearly in the second category.

But here's where you come in. What I'm asking you all to do is to give me the most...appropriate place where I should photograph myself wearing it in the comments. Please don't go for something such as "adult book store", but rather the type of place a girl "like me" could end up wearing a shirt like that. I'll choose the time of day, and probably pair it with a cute miniskirt. I hope to complete that task by the end of next week. I may even post the photo.

Friday, July 24, 2009

.2%

There have been 880 pages views since I started this blog at the beginning of the month.

There has been one comment. Even allowing for the chance that many of these recorded page views are searchbots, that still works out to about .2%

It certainly seems that there's no interest out there for this kind of blog, and I'm wasting my time updating and writing it. Short of any interaction in the near future, I'll shut it down at the end of the month, as I've got enough on my plate already.

Sunday, July 19, 2009

Girlie Collages


These graphic to my left took about an hour to make. You know why? Because it's a collage.

I spend a lot of my time making collages, because it gets me out of Master's way while still working on my training. Some are regular, and this is an online collage.

The way it works is that Master gives me a certain sentence. In this case it's "Cute girls like me only date real hotties". Then, I have to go on different, "appropriate" websites to find all the words that make up the sentence, save the screen image, and cut and paste them to create this sentence. Of course, Master carefully tracks my browser history (he loaded some program on my home computer a while ago) so he knows that I'm not getting these words from some dictionary site or something like that. Anyway, I have to tell him where I got the words from anyway.

For example, the word "only" is from a "limited time only" sale at Wet Seal, and "me" is from a bulletin board on Self Esteem Clothing. Scanning website after website takes a lot of time, and I have to read a lot of girlie stuff to do it. Master says this keeps me looking and learning where and what I should, while staying busy.

I thought you might enjoy one activity that is a common one I have to do. Master has said that if he has to punish me severely, he could give me a paragraph that involves words that I can only find by looking at sites I probably don't want to look.

Friday, July 17, 2009

So quiet

Almost no comments, few votes in the poll. SiteMeter tells me I get a fair number of visitors to this blog....please speak up? I want to keep going but will only do so if people seem to like what I'm doing....

Wednesday, July 15, 2009

The meaning of "no"

This might be heavier than my other posts, but I think it's a look at how a small change can really affect your view of your Master or whole situation. See, Master agrees with me about the power of language. Those of you who have read 1984 know what I'm talking about, but for those who haven't, there's a basic idea about language:

It's almost impossible to consider an idea unless you have words for it.

For example, the word schadenfreude. It's a German word that means "taking joy in others' misery". When you laugh because the co-worker you hate got his hand stuck in the copier, that's schadenfreude. It was such an obvious part of life that when we realized there wasn't an English word for it, we went out and borrowed the German one.

My whole point is that we use words to carry ideas...no word, no idea. Which brings me back to Master. Do you which word was the first he banned from my vocabulary? Not some complex "boy word" about sports of news, but a simple one.

no

I'm not allowed to say no anymore. "Girls like me" don't say no. Because we love attention, and the best way to get attention is to make people think we might say "yes". You can't argue with "no"and that kills the conversation and attention. So I'm not allowed to use that word, instead I have to convinvce Master or whomever to change their mind...implying that I am subject to whatever they want.

For instance, if Master asks if I want to eat broccoli covered in chocolate, instead of saying "no" I can say "that doesn't sound good"...which implies that I will eat something different. If Master asks if I want to get a tan in my bikini and I say "it's kinda cold for a suntan today, don't you think?" it implies that I will get a tan later.

I'm not allowed to tell Master or anyone else that they' won't get what they want from me, I can only say they won't get it they way or the time they want. But they still might get it.

Which means over time I'm getting more and more used to the idea that Master will always get what he wants from me.

Monday, July 13, 2009

Skool daze

Of course, one major part of any girl's life is school, and at times Master has me practice how to do well in school. Of course, "do well" in Master's eyes is different than doing well in the eyes of a typical teacher or student.

Basically, the setup is usually pretty similar. I arrive for "school" dressed as Master has chosen. This is often a private school uniform with a raised skirt hem and little schoolgirl tie, or may be some flirty clothing appropriate for a public school. Depending on Master's mood, I may be chained to the hard chair or small table set up for me. I will have two sets of work in my messenger bag (not to be confused with my purse!) :

  • School work that has to be done, hopefully just above the bare minimum -- enough to get me to a D. This may be copying out of a book, answering questions from a reading, or taking notes from a video.; and
  • Real work that is of a social nature. This may be writing crush notes, checking my makeup, or reading CosmoGirl!
Master will come by from time to time, and I need to be ready to hide my real work, and make myself look studious. He enjoys asking belligerent questions as I bat my lashes and giggle, claiming that I am paying attention. Sometimes, I get caught and he takes away my real work, which will result in a punishment down the line. Just like in real life, it's turning into a cat and mouse game where I learn new ways to do what I "want" to do in order to stay ahead of Master.

As with so many things, on one hand I'm proud of how good I'm getting at checking my eye shadow while appearing to watch a video...but on the other it's sad how good I'm getting at it!

Saturday, July 11, 2009

Mirror, mirror

Well, Master had something new for me today....a full length mirror! In case you're wondering where the money comes from, I give Master a small fee for his time and thought, which is only fair. I thought Master was going to have me put the mirror someplace strategic, but he just smiled and said I'd find out later. In the meantime, I was to write a description of my ideal date with my current crush on paper.

I didn't get it, but I don't get a lot of what Master had me do until it's too late. So I sat down and in my best girlish voice I wrote down a description of the perfect date. It filled up the whole page, which is my maximum. That's right, maximum...girls like me shouldn't get too carried away with writing...that's for smart girls and boys.

I find Master in his study and give him the paper, or at least I try to. But Master says no, and gives me some Windex and three tubes of hot pink lipstick. Then he tells me my job for the day. I'm going to tell him the story using the mirror. I have to write as much of the story I can on the mirror in pink lipstick that is readable, take a pic, clean it off, and move on.

I thought this was just a mean thing to do until I started, then I realize that it is part of Master's smart way to torture me. Since I was writing on the mirror, I couldn't help but see myself. I wasn't staring , but I had to concentrate to write it just write like on the paper. The whole time, I see myself in the background, in my latest trendy outfit, lamplight sparkling off my glitter eyeliner. Of course, I'm in the background of all the photos, too.

The last pic was the worst, because Master wanted the story to end with one of his favorite phrases. So now he has a pic of pink lipstick on the mirror reading "and he leaned in and kissed me and made me his"...right below a photo of me blowing a kiss into the mirror wearing that same lipstick!

Friday, July 10, 2009

Fandom

Of course, I'm a fan of Twilight as Master demands, and that means I'm a fan of the character Edward Cullen. I have the sheer top that reads "I dreamed of Edward Cullen last night," which he enjoys having me wear as I watch a bootleg copy of the move a fifth time. I have gone in public wearing a Twilight t-shirt many times while dressed as a male. While not exactly cross-dressing, it is humiliating to seem invested in a series aimed squarely at younger girls.

I'm also now a fan of Robert Pattinson, the actor who plays him. While Master severely limits how often I interact with the public as "the girl I really am", he makes an exception in this case. Which means every few days I write another mash note to Pattinson in my girliest handwriting. A sample:

I want to say that i think you are the best actor who ever lived. You make Edward come alive and i never thought i could love him as much in the movie as i do in the book, but you make me love him even more. Your eyes are as deep as i always pictured reading the book an i sometimes stop the movie just to stare at them....
Ad nauseum. Depending on his mood, Master also sees fit to have me address an envelope to Pattinson's agent, stamp it, and put the mash note in it. And rest assured, next time I am to be punished, I am dressed up as a Twilight fangirl, given a long walk to a mailbox in another town, and off the note goes to the agent.

If I get even a form letter back, I don't want to know what Master's plans are then.

Thursday, July 9, 2009

lines

As most Masters do, mine likes it when I write lines. Writing the same thing over and over and over again. It's one of my most common punishments. He doesn't have me do it on paper though...I do it on big pieces of poster board. That way, they go up when I'm around to remind me of what I did, how I was punished, and what I should believe.

What I write and how often depends on what I did. But it always is in my girliest handwriting. That means all curves, no angles. Also, all i's are dotted with circles or if I'm in real trouble, hearts. The ink can be whatever color, but the pen must always be pink.

The other day I forgot to refresh my lip gloss for half an hour becauase I was so inot Sealed with a Diss. Master said he was pleased I cared so much about the lives of other girls, but I should always remember to look my cutest. So I had to write "I love my yummy lip gloss!!" 100 times on poster board, and it's up on the wall now. Of course, I'm kept secured to the desk until I'm done which is great motivation...

Wednesday, July 8, 2009

Boy clothes

Master played a rude trick on me today. He asked if I thought I had earned the chance to wear some male clothing for a while. Of course I said yes because the tops I wear always show too much skin and get all clingy. Master proposed this deal: I could wear a male sweatshirt all day if he picked all the other clothing, and agreed to a photo shoot. So of course I said yes...what could be embarrassing about a male sweatshirt?

I'll tell you. I tore open the box...and lifted out a male XXXL sweatshirt way too big for me. That smelled of sweat and cologne, and had a high school wrestling legend on the front and back, and the name of my current crush embroidered on the sleeve. He must have gotten it at Salvation Army of something.

So here I am swimming in a wrestling sweatshirt that obviously isn't mine, almost but not quite covering up my miniskirt. The stench of maleness is clashing with my cotton candy perfume, and my biggest heart pendant is over the neckline. All the time, Master is laughing and taking photos as my hot pink nails point to the name on my sleeve and make kissy faces and bat my eyelashes for the camera. Right now, I'm constantly pushing up the sleeves as they roll down to type, reminding me that I'm play-acting when I'm wearing male clothing...for all the wrong reasons...

Monday, July 6, 2009

About crushes

It dawns on me I should make something clear: all my crushes are on Master, just not Master today. He has kindly supplied me with a wealth of stuff from his earlier days (his mother was a pack rat) to keep me active in that way. Of course, as Master says, a girl like me doesn't crush on the same guy that long, so he's constantly changing the name and often likes to change some details. It's always his picture (yes, more on that in a second) and the same basic personality...it's always him but it amuses him to change the details around.

Whichever version of Master it is, I am expected to be loyal and obsessed with him. I am to memorize anything he tells me about this crush. As Master says, next to looking cute, the most important thing to a girl like me is her crush...and who am I looking cute for anyway? So a lot of what I do is practicing how to have a crush.

The other day he came up with something particularly humiliating for me to do with my current crush (Josh -- Master in his younger days). He chained my legs to a chair to make sure I couldn't move around -- Master often restricts my movement to make sure I focus. Then he set up his videocamera. I was to sit supporting my head with my hands on my lower jaw and neck, showing off my pale blue nail polish. Then the trick he played -- he put a photo of his younger days in front of me.

I was instructed to stare at it until I could manage to cry. I tried real hard for about 20 minutes, but couldn't start crying no matter what. Master decided to make it worse for me. He coached me on how to get the waterworks started, then made me pay for failing him...

Now Master has about 2 minutes of video of me sitting , staring at this pic. About a minute into it, my eyes start leaking. Off-camera, you hear Master's voice: "what's wrong honey". And I have to say, mascara trails streaking down my cheek, cotton candy pink lips trembling:

"Nothing's wrong...Josh is just SO cute and I love him SO much".

Reading material

Master thinks it's very important that I don't seem much of a good reader. The type of girl he wants me to be doesn't read much, he tells me. He says that I shouldn't be too smart. He says that a lot. I get punished by Master for "sounding too smart" all the time.

So of course he doesn't like the idea of reading. A girl like me should only read to learn how to do a better job being a girl like me. And that means a very short reading list.

Master has two things he expects me to read:
Magazines like CosmoGirl! and ElleGirl, and
"The Clique" series of books about middle school girls.

He regularly checks up on my reading (I've read three novels in the Clique series. I read CosmoGirl often, take all the quizzes and compose shopping lists) and quizzes me to make sure that I am paying attention. He says it's the best way to learn how to act around other girls and even boys. Of course, I'm never around them, but he says I should know anyway.

It's getting to the point that I actually care about some of what I'm reading...

Sunday, July 5, 2009

Happy fourth!

Just a happy Fourth of July to everyone...a bit late though. Master decided that I should celebrate, by being a patriotic cutie. I did my nails in alternating red, white, and blue. I dressed up in a short white tank top with "America" written across the chest in red, and denim short shorts. Flip-flops of course. I did my hair in two ponytails tied in red/white/blue ribbons. Master even painted a glittering American flag on my cheek.

Then he said we would go for a drive to see some fireworks. An hour later, we arrived at a small town green where people were gathering for a town fireworks show. Then he dropped the bomb...I would provide a bit of early entertainment. The light was dimming, and it was that twilight where it's so hard to see. Anyway, we got out of the car and moved slightly out of sight. Master gave me two sparklers, and lit them...and told me to smile and run around in front of the crowd, twirling, until they gave out.

So I ran around smiling, twirling the sparklers and twirling myself the way I knew he wanted. If I kept moving in the dim light, chances are most people saw me and figured I was just some giggly girl with her sparklers. Any suspicions would be erased by the pattern of light and dark I was creating. But by the time they gave out and I was returning to the car, I know everyone had at least glanced at me...a silly girl celebrating her nation's birthday.

Saturday, July 4, 2009

Routines

For fun, I decided to put down some of the routines that Master expects of me. He's very good at punishing me if I don't do it. It's gotten to the point where I am so in these habits I almost never forget when he's around! There's tons of stuff when I'm talking or other things, but if I'm just sitting, I am supposed to...

Always
Smile (nobody likes a pretty girl who isn't happy)
Be chewing bubble gum
Have the word "boy" or the name of a boy somewhere on your clothing or skin (he's very serious about crushes)
Be wearing cotton candy Body Fantasy spray (he says I should smell as sweet as I am)
Have nail polish that matches my outfit (sometimes that means changing polish twice in a day!)

At least every ten minutes
Re-do my hair (if it's braids, every hour)
Refresh my lipgloss (purse must always be within reach)
Check my fingernails
Tug everything back in place (hemlines down, necklines up)
Blow a bubble

At least every half hour
Go to the bathroom (at least to check makeup)
Re-fit my bra, make sure it's comfy
Drink a glass of water

That's just some of what I can remember. Master says that the more I learn these routines, the more natural they are and the better I'll be at learning more important things.

"I love chocolate"
Even though it can make me fat,
Chocolate's the best stuff you can eat
I should have like none of that,
But it's such a yummy treat!

Master makes sure I don't have too much
When I do it means more practice cheering
But I love American chocolate, Belgian, Dutch
Even though it just means more fat appearing.

This is the last of Master's topics, so I hope that you all suggest some new poem topics in the comments! Pleeeeeze?

Friday, July 3, 2009

I'd like to be

It would never happen, but I'd love to be dressed up in some of my authentic cheerleader camp wear or even my uniform from a Midwestern high school I got online, and have to stand by the door of a supermarket. Hair bow flopping, can in hand, layered in makeup raising funds for my squad. Trying to figure out how to act when some of the football guys came into the store...

I've done roleplays about this online, and I often think about converting the logs to a story, but I can never quite figure out how...

"I love football players"
If soccer boys are good, football ones are best
They're hunky and muscley, they all are you know
Sure they might flunk some school project or test
But his tutor just might be you

Okay, I know I'm not smart enough to tutor one
But I love watching them scrimmage and practice all day
They're sweaty and so cute when they're games are done
And I love to spend my time watching them play.

Thursday, July 2, 2009

Job applications

Master does like to have me put in public for mockery and exposure in very limited ways. His new thing is to have me pick up job applications. This week I went to a local Papa Gino's and pick a job application while in my new micro-miniskirt and embarrassing baby tee. The girl at the counter was laughing so hard, but just showed me where it was and I took it. The guy was laughing too.

I don't know which is worse, girls or guys seeing me dressed like this. I think it's girls, because it's harder to care what a guy thinks of me. But to me dismissed so obviously as a loser be a girl is very humiliating and reminds me what and who I truly am.

"I love lip gloss"
My lips don't sparkle and glitter on their own,
And they're not yummy cotton candy flavor
But I always keep my gloss next to my phone
So I have something I can savor.

Nothing says "I'm just a lil cutie" the way lip gloss can
And sometimes it screams "I might kiss you later"
It's something that would never be worn by a man
But it would always be worn by a double dater.

Wednesday, July 1, 2009

Oh yeah

Master wants me to end each post with a poem. It has to have the title "I love" and he's given me the first three titles. Then hopefully I'll have enough readers to take their suggestions. If you can suggest a poem title, leave it in the comments!

"I love bubble gum"

This girl loves her bubble gum,
Snapping and popping it all day,
If it's bubblicious or bubble yum
It always chases my blues away.

The taste is sugary sweet and I am too
And it's my favorite color -- baby pink
I'm always choosing a piece or two
Even when I take a drink!

Costumes


Master wanted me to start by sharing something with you about costumes. The whole story of how Master came into my life and how I balance this time for Ashlee with reality will come later I guess. At least, that's what Master says.

I always keep an eye out for Halloween costumes, because that's the time I can most unapologetically be me in public. Last year I went out in my Strawberry Shortcake costume to a supermarket, Target, and even a few houses. It's a tight fit an I had to wear girlie boxers underneath. I also own a purr-fect French maid costume, too. But haven't worn that outside.

Master believes that the perfect Hallowe'en costume for a girl like me should send the message "I think you should take me seriously, but how could you?" He's looking for something more subtle than just cute and flirty, but he loves the pink. That's why he told me had to check out the "Skulls & Stars" costume. I mean, look, everything is all black and bad, but with red lacing and a little necklace, and a skirt with stars on it, how can you take it seriously? It's a ditzy girl's way of trying to be tough -- wearing black and all that -- but a cute little purse?

Anyway, I know he would love the idea of me constantly getting my skirt under control and watching my wings, walking around. Not to mention those belts. The idea of having to obssess about the state of my clothing is big one for him. One good thing -- it might be the only time I get to not smile around him! More on that later.

I probably can't fit into that piece since it's made for tweens, but Master may order it anyway. I'm getting better at sewing, and adding some pink lace at the seams, maybe I could squeeze in for some Hallowe'en humiliation.