You Have to Learn to Pace Yourself

My grandmother use to say that people don't value what they don't earn. As a child I chalked this up to another of the many things my grandmother just didn't understand about how the world worked. Then, quite regularly as an adult, I have seen it prove true.

 Don't you hate that? 

My top recently introduced a new punishment. I am feeling so bashful about sharing it. I had to write lines. I love writing. I love repetitive writing. Hello, have we met? Each time, the statements he made me write were similar to thoughts that often cross my mind and make me smile when they do. The first began with I am my owner’s_____, you don’t need to know the rest. The second time began with I belong to Master John. 

I'm feeling bashful because even now, a week later, it caused such a profound feeling of submission. It was hypnotic to write over and over again, I belong to Master John. To contemplate, what does that mean? You know how if you repeat a thing over and over it comes to sound like meaningless collection of sounds? This was exactly the opposite. 

The first time it was a three-part statement, written 250 times. The second was also a three-part statement, written 500 times. I'm pretty efficient. I can write a page, 25 lines, in about 12 minutes. When I pushed I trimmed it down to 8, but my hand actually cramped more, and legibility was greatly lost. 

It was, without question, my favorite punishment and also, I hope to never again experience it. 

I think I am exceptionally good at managing my time, and I swear I did appreciate time before this punishment. But perhaps time management had become an auto-pilot sort of thing for me. I have one responsibility daily that is due at a specific, set-in-stone time. Every other thing on my agenda can be wiggled around however I see fit. And I wiggle it just a little bit. What, wait sorry dance party distraction. I do that too. For real. 

It was important that my punishment not compromise my vanilla responsibilities, and my top would agree that's how it should be. It was also important to me that I meet my top's expectation.  I spent the day calling out, Alexa set a timer for 10 minutes. Then I would sit and ink a page with 25 lines of I belong to Master John... while picturing what I had to accomplish during the 20 minutes of vanilla that would follow. Alexa set a timer for 20 minutes, and play Billy Joel Pressure. No wiggling today, focus. I did my promo posts on the socials, I did not get sucked into watching reels of this song will sync right up to the third video in your phone. I did workout, I did not scroll through 100s of 20-minute workouts before deciding which one I would do. I outlined this post in my head, I didn't make repetitive outlines to be thrown away because the spacing just isn't right. I decide what was for dinner and got that fucker in the oven. Not one minute was wasted on hmm, chicken or beef. I gave my attention 100% to what mattered, and not one millisecond to what did not. 

I earned an ever-deeper appreciation for time, and for my top. 

And if you say run...

Ages ago I sought my top’s help with a rather volatile matter. The details are unimportant, but his advice included an observation that people will do anything to avoid being humiliated. I remember I disagreed with him. Well, that’s a bit like saying I remember it was a day that ended in a Y. I bet I said, are you sure Sir? People pay me to humiliate them. They tell me the special words that push their secret buttons, and they lean right in to being humiliated.

It came up again recently. Humiliation, it came up repeatedly recently.

Pathetic. Sad. Ridiculous. Delusional. He doesn’t even like you. He doesn’t want to spend time with you. He’s using you. He doesn’t care about you. 

Red, red, red. I revoke my consent. 

People will do anything to avoid feeling humiliated. Your success highlights their stagnation. No one wants to be reminded of their failures. 

My top has exquisite taste. He is cultured, world traveled. He has an eye for quality, and he is a true Taurus with an appreciation for luxury. I was thoroughly out of line to have ever spoken to his pet that way. There will be no ANTs here. Oh, I must remind him, he said we would revisit ANT stomping and nutrition in July.

I had to quit smoking. I am not allowed to drink Diet Pepsi. I can have an orgasm every time I have completed 3 moderate or intense workouts. I think I am supposed to get 6 hours sleep a night. He only said that once, we haven’t revisited it- shh don’t tell him my FitBit keeps track of my 4-hour average. I am to pay my bills on time. Every time I have a string of nightmares, he makes a new suggestion. First it was to stop smoking pot before bed. Then to stop eating 3 hours before bedtime. A year ago, he suggested it might be EMFs. I bought shungite. 

He has some strong opinions about how I should care for myself, and none of it directly benefits him. Perhaps I am delusional, but it does seem like he is pretty invested in my well-being. Personally, when I don’t care about someone, I do nothing. I give exactly no attention to their nightmares, or their intake of harmful things. 

Maybe he doesn’t like me. I mean I am a joy to be around, humble as fuck too. But maybe he just doesn't like charming, quick witted, dorks. Oh well, I’m still going to aim for being delightful.

I have this fantasy, I have imagined it 1000s of times, easily. I’m house sitting for my top. Well now it’s my top, it’s been both Alton Brown and Johnny Depp in the past. Anyway, I am house sitting for my top and he catches me watching his private, homemade movies. He gives me a choice; he can call my parents to deal with me however they see fit or I can become his sex slave. There’s an extensive list of the things he requires me to do, but one of them is that I come to his house every morning. I let myself in, and undress, and I wait. There’s a camera, and I know that sometimes he is watching me and sometimes he is not. My fantasy always includes imaging that I am waiting, not knowing if he is going to use me that day. On days that he engages with me, he makes me say why I am there. He makes me say, that I am there so he can _____, if he wishes. There is a direct correlation between how horny I am and how explicit, and derogatory the language in the censored space is. 

I’ve never told him that fantasy. I’ve never told anyone that fantasy. I have subtly offered my encouragement when he has incidentally done a thing that invokes a similar feeling. He often does things that feel similar. But what are the feelings I am really aiming for? I feel so proud when he makes me say that I am his sub, and that he owns me. I feel like I have earned that, and that I waited a long time to have it. When I am waiting for him to arrive, when the time he said he would be there has come and gone, I feel so anxious. He might have been in an accident, he might have changed his mind, or you know his meeting may have run over time. When my face was covered in sweat and spit, both his and mine, the tears were all mine and things I just can’t bring myself to type, when he said that I existed to suck his cock, time stopped. What? Did he say that to me? Is that really what he said? It isn’t enough that I am on my knees, that my make up is destroyed and my hair is tangled. I am covered in marks from our play earlier.  I should be reminded right now, in this moment, that I reordered time and space, that I flew here, to suck his cock, to be humiliated, to be used. Lean into this, lean in hard. Fuck ya I did. I literally wrapped my arms around his knees and pulled him as deep as I could as time started back up. I did reorder time and space, because that is a thing in my command. I flew halfway across the country, again, with very little notice to give someone I love a fantasy that includes a beautiful woman, his beautiful woman, jumps on a plane to suck his cock when he snaps his fingers. I am on my knees, at his feet, living out a fantasy I have imagined 1000s of times, easily. I am safely living out several, rather elaborate, hard-wired, deeply nuanced and costly fantasies with someone who adores me. Someone who tries to quiet my nightmares even when he is 1000s of miles away. 

Yes Sir, as always you were spot-on and right. Most people will do anything to avoid feeling humiliated. They'll deflect. They’ll be cruel to people they love, real cruelty, outside of fantasy time, in real life. The things they imagine that might end in humiliation will be avoided like the plague. They will stay stagnant, living a life they hate, rather than risk failing. They will deny themselves their goals and fantasies, even simple easily attainable ones. They will allow resentment and jealousy to fester inside of them. 

I am, thankfully, not most people. 

No One Else in the Whole Universe will ever Compare

For in the distance, 12 souls from now, 

you and me will still be here

I saw an article recently, it read: blah-blah-blah, legends New Edition to do something. What? Ronnie, Bobbie, Ricky and Mike, weren't we sorting out if you like the girl like just last weekend? Legends? Decades, not years, have to pass before one can be declared a legend, right? 

Decades have passed. 

Fuck it, looks like we will have to be legends now. 

I have needed to order new business cards for at least a year. I mean it's terribly less pressing now that I rarely engage with new-to-me subbies. Also, we live here in the future, calling cards are so very dated. 

Clock me, I love business cards, and I have to return some videotapes. 

Fuck that's probably a classic now. Peeps prolly think it was released around the same time as Taxi Driver, and Casablanca. Note to self: find new movie quotes. 

I need to order business cards. NBD. One of my nearest and dearest, our Goth Barbie, owns a printing shop even.

So I need a new landing page here to Q. 

A new all about me page, you're soaking in it now, for all the information that's too wordy for a card.  

Seven times seven, not one cell of the innumerable gathered to create this me that I am remains from the original collection. 

How weird is that? 

Who am I? 

I should put a link to my first entry here. Maybe I will when I edit, prolly won't. I am still a professional dominatrix. I am still never, ever going to sleep with you. In the years since I wrote that the scene has become an ever-bigger presence in my personal life as well. It has grown to include becoming my Top's submissive. Four years now, it still feels surreal. I maintain that I am not a submissive or a switch, but this dynamic is very much a primary part of my identity now. I have discovered some of the best parts of me, rediscovered some of my favorite parts of me, through becoming my top's property.  

I'm a creator now. Well, I mean, I have always been a creator, but I create porn now. Ha. Dude, let's pause here for a minute. I am having a second opportunity to live out my exhibitionist fantasies, and this time the internet is a thing. When I was your age, I had to walk uphill, through the snow, in my Pleasers to get to the club, or something like that. 

Whatev, welcome to Cassatopia. Can I tell you a secret? Lean in close, bonus you'll end up covered in my pheromones. I started this post a month ago. I was going to give some thought to exactly what I wished to convey, come back in a few minutes and bang it out. In my defense I did also squeeze in a magical vacation since I paused, I haven't only been sitting around contemplating my navel. But also, my belly button is hella deep, I did spend much time investigating it. 

Still, I don't have an outline I'm bouncing off, we're just winging this. It's on today's list, "Finish the post", and as a fail-safe, today's primary goal is: a well completed To Do List. 

So I'm Mistress Cassidy, lifestyle and professional dominatrix, content creator, BDSM consultant, and event hostess.  Sometimes I'm just Cassidy, cougar, Gen X, MILF and Master John's pet. This is my blog. It's pretty sweet. One time Master John said, I love your blog. And I'm this dork who will glow about that every time I recall it. There's typically song lyric titles, Prince or Bowie most often. I reference astrology and tarot far more often than reasonable. I write here with the knowledge that my literature teacher from 1986 sometimes pops by, as does 100s of my vanilla friends, so I censor a little bit. But only a little bit. They choose to be my friend, they know what they signed up for. I try to post my travel and event schedule here, but it's too full to keep it current really. Besides it's less than safe to just put here where any muggle might trip over it. 

Pop by Fetlife @MistressCassidy, if I am attending a fetish event it'll be noted there. 

Subscribe to my VIP OnlyFans: Cassidy Cream OnlyFans for uncensored content, or the soon to be active free follow version: https://onlyfans.com/cassidycream 

Expect to see a revamp of colors and layouts on all my pages soon, I asked the universe to send me a new assistant and I trust the universe is, as always, twisting itself inside out to grant my wish. 

Think you're new assistant worthy? Submit your resume to cassidycream15@gmail.com 

It's a paid gig, but also one must agree to a little impropriety, k? Muggles need not apply.