Use to be really good at saying “nothing”. We were given a voice by Dad, and ever since we learned how to use our voices, we are using less and less of that word. The three of us elected Kitty to write this post. Feel like she’s best fit for this job. So here goes nothing =)

”Nothing” was a word i went to often before i met sir. It was my security blanket in a way. People would ask what’s going on, a simple nothing would effectively shut down a topic that may elicit pain, stress, or bunch of negativities that were stewing underneath. Pretty sure i was not the only one doing that. It’s one of the tools many reach for when they feel overwhelmed. Is it really healthy though? Not really. Growing up in a culture where everything is fine, i never thought that was a problem until i met sir.

Sir has always been adamant from the get go that it’s better to say what’s on my mind than nothing. i struggled. The other two had easier time opening up to sir, because a lot of what they struggled were and are mostly straight forward. Think Kitten opened up first and she had shared about our childhood the good and bad. It was hard for her, no doubt, when she talked about our adoptive parents. How 2.0 and mom had fought constantly, how she was treated wrongly, and how she felt small and insignificant. It was easy and natural for her to look up to sir and recognize him as her father. She was the one egging us on to ask sir if he would consider adopting us. To say she was excited when sir agreed was an understatement. Kitten was the very first one to text sir every morning to say “Good morning Daddy”. If it wasn’t for the reserve that the rest of us two have, she’d call sir Daddy all the time. She is the bubbly, goofy one. Still innocent as heck. We love her random out bursts. We love how forgiving she can be. If she is the one who says “nothing”, there is usually a trick up her sleeve. She is the mischievous monster who usually has an inside joke she’s dying to share. At times she’d feel too embarrassed to share, but eventually out comes the joke that no one gets. To her, it’s even funnier that everyone thinks her as the weird one. Don’t think anyone minds though so out of all three of us, she is the most carefree one.

Kit is the logical brainiac of the bunch. When she says “nothing” it’s either she feels overwhelmed with logistics of work or life or its truly nothing and she needed a break. She is the calm one who has the foresight to lead rest of us. She is the leader at work and calls out orders when things goes wrong. When she is in charge, the two of us usually sits back and watch in awe. She’d go into this hyper focused mode and can problem solve on the fly. She is the calm and analytical one. She keeps an eye on Kitten and i and she is the one who’s usually talking to sir. She’s been feeling a bit tired lately so a lot of her “nothing” means her brain is in a fog. All her running tabs have glitched and froze. Unable to compute and unable to communicate…

Then there is me. The ultra sensitive and emotional one. My “nothing” usually equates to emotional turmoil. To get to what’s really behind the nothing, i have to wade through all the emotions that makes me cry. Sounds like i am needy and a crybaby, but I don’t think that to be true. i have my wants and desires, but what i need is often a touchstone that is sir. When i am told to kneel before him, i stop spinning in my emotions. Instead i can navigate through them and find a root cause of what has been bothering me. It used to take me days of spinning to find the right answer. Now i have much easier time to identify the problem. So my “nothings” are slowly replaced by intelligible words and i am starting to like that feeling. That sense of freedom when i share what’s on my mind. The struggles i have are no longer mine to bare alone. I still do say “nothing” from time to time. It’s when i recognize that sir needs more time to rest and the things on my mind can wait. There is always tomorrow to address the issue. His rest is more important.

So that’s a whole lot of nothings to think about. Think i may have missed a few. May add more later if i think of any.

Bookkeeping: Act of Service or Control?

Written by Kit (The big girl in charge) with inputs from Kitty (The submissive)

Think I started my journey to improve my personal finance somewhere around late 2017 to early 2018. At that time Hubby and I have vague ideas of what financial freedom meant. It pretty much means to have money work for us so we don’t need to work for money and yadi yada. It was an abstract concept to us as we have no idea how to get from point A to point B. At that time, we were still living pay check to pay check. Had no freaking clue as to where our money went. So I did what every confused individual does, I consulted a bunch of self help books and YouTube videos on personal finance. There was one problem, I was a financial illiterate. Think I got more confused and overwhelmed through my hours of research than learning anything helpful. However, there was one super duper thing I got out of those hours of research, I learned how to budget.

In its simplest form, budgeting is assigning our monthly income to its appropriate categories and sticking to those assignments. Essentially, each dollar has its purpose, better to use it purposely than to squander it. Bookkeeping is tracking the ins and outs of our money. So that all of the dollars are accounted for at end of month. Most of the work happened at end of the month. Analyzing our spending habits and planning for next month type of thing. It’s a tedious task, but essential if we want to achieve financial freedom. In doing so, I was able to catch missed payments, memberships that we no longer need, weird service charges that we are not aware of, and so on. Instead of money bleeding out of our pockets, we were able to stay focused. Within 3 years or so, we were able to pay off all of our debts that roughly amounted to $120K. Now the money we used to pay off our debts are mostly going into our retirement funds. Let those money grow and soon enough those money will work for us. So what does all of these have to do with service or control? D/s relationship can hide in plain site. So allow me to explain.

Many people see money as power which equates to control. Whoever has the control of money in any given household tend to have their say on things. Well not in my family. Before I go further, I do want to clarify that I consider my Dad and sister as my family. So when I mention family, I am talking about family of four. And yes, I have been the bookkeeper of my family for past year or so. Ask me any time how we are doing financially, I can pretty much tell you everything down to the penny if I wanted to, well better way to phrase it, if i have permission from Dad and Hubby. I am simply the one keeping track of money and directing them to areas where I think will benefit my family. Dad is actually the elder who has a vision of where our family should be years and decades from now. The reason I mentioned it in such way, is that I don’t want to mislead you and indicate that Dad has all the power. That’s not true. He leads by example. So I follow his example and make decisions aligning to his way of life. Do research on things you want to buy, buy good things once, and take care of them. That type of wisdom with money.

My following Dad’s lead is more of an active submission than passive. So I see the budgeting and bookkeeping as a service to my family instead of control. It’s not restrictive but freeing in the long run. I do (well Kitten does)after all want to visit all the zoos and aquariums in North America before I die. Family road trips to all national parks sounds great as well. Still need to learn how to play a cello before I get all arthritic. More time to paint and craft. Start a garden and a quail farm. Build our own hose and blah blah blah. The list of dreams goes on. You get the idea.

His Title

Written by Kitty (the submissive)

This is going to be a difficult subject for me to write. So bare with me on this one…it maybe a blog full of disjointed thoughts. So i apologize ahead of time. Also when i am writing, i don’t really refer him as Dad or Daddy like my counterparts. i refer to him as sir.

Referring someone as sir or ma’am has always been an odd thing for me. Don’t really think it’s lack of respect on my part, i really think it has something to do with my cultural upbringing and my timidity. Growing up in China, i was taught to address older men as Uncle (insert last name), and older women as Auntie (insert last name). There are phrases equvilant to sir and ma’am for my adult peers, but i was too young to start using those. When I came here to America, it didn’t even cross my parents’ mind to teach me the usage of sir and ma’am. My school system had certainly failed on that aspect as well. So it’s a lesson i am learning from sir, that it’s common courtesy to address others as sir and ma’am.

Which brings up a certain reluctance on my part…i feel reluctant to do so due to my adoptive parents. When i was in China, i had no problem addressing people politely. But once i came here, i became extremely reluctant and uncomfortable to call my dad (2.0), Dad and my mom, Mom. Felt like it was an inherent protective mechanism that Kitten had devised to make herself unnoticeable. If she didn’t bring herself to their attention, she’d be left to her peace and quiet. That then expanded to other people in her parent’s circle… mom and 2.0 always thought Kitten was shy, but in reality, she was scared. As Kitten grew older i came along and i inherited that peculier trait. To this day, we still hesitate calling sir Dad or Daddy in person. It’s an ongoing problem that both Kitten and Kit face. But, for me, there is yet another layer i have to figure out myself.

For the longest time, i didn’t know how to address sir. To me, he is not my dad but my dominant. But because i am married to Hubby, my body will never completely belong to sir. Thus the inappropriate use of Sir in our D/s relationship. My mind, however, is and will always be an open book to sir. So use of sir in my mind seems inappropriate as well. So i came up with sir. The middle ground between sir and Sir. Will definitely envy the one person who gets to call sir, Sir. But that’s somewhere in the future i need not to worry about. By then, i’d probably be mature enough to let go of a fantasy that does not belong to me.

Anywhoozly, now that i’ve been calling him sir more. The title sir actually rolls off our tongue much, much, easier than Dad or Daddy. We are not trying to be willful. Just trying to work through our past trauma one “sir” or “Dad/Daddy” at a time.

Different Girl, Different Speach

As I alluded from my earlier post, different part of me has different personalities and is driven by different emotions and interests. There are enough differences amongst them that they even have different speech patterns. Dad pointed that out the other day, which enlightend me somewhat. Now that I’ve paid enough attention, I too have to agree.

Was thinking about how to push through my writer’s block, and the little one came up with the idea of naming each one of us. She gets to be Kitten. I an still Kit, and the deranged strange creature whom we came to discover as the submissive gets to be Kitty. (See that just now? The little one just came out to play) Dad suggested that each of us can have our space to write. Once written, we’ll sign off as either Kit, Kitten, or Kitty. By doing so, I will get to know each of myself better.

Feeling like a crazy person to talk and write amongst myself. Perhaps the crazies have figured this out and us normal folks are the crazy ignorant ones.


A New Beginning

Today I sat down with my boss and gave my notice. I too had joined 40% of my fellow millennials on our crusade to build a better future for ourselves. I did it. I made the decision and stuck to it. As nerve wracking as it was in the weeks leading up to today, it’s a relief that I finally did it. Have to be honest though, my first reaction after the meeting was “What the bleep have I done?!” I had a bit of a free fall moment and then I realized that I am not alone and both Dad and Hubby have been helping me building my parachute.

I am still going to be a veterinarian. I am just going to work on my own terms with two new team members: Dad and Hubby. We are going to start a new venture together and our collective goal is financial freedom. It has always been our goal. Think the pandemic has become the catalyst to our plan. With all the homework and research we’ve done this year, I realized that we are much closer to our goal than what I had previously though we were. Barring from any, major, major catastrophic events, we are well on our way to retire early. If you heard about the FIRE movement, we are pretty much doing something similar to that.

To say this year has been challenging and stressful is an complete understatement. Standing up to my previous father for his wrong doings, losing my grandfather in china, and going through extreme stress at work were just some the highlights for this year. At times I wish I could just shrivel up and disappear. Not this time, not this year. With the right attitude and support, I am growing rapidly through my struggles. Which leads me to a topic I will touch upon briefly today. Will expand later. I promise.

This year through Dad’s help, I came to understand myself a lot better. There are indeed three parts of me. The little girl (Kitten), the submissive (Kitty), and the big girl (Kit). While there are many overlaps between them, each of them leads certain train of thoughts and emotions. Being able to recognize who’s in charge in any given time has helped me tremendously in communicating my needs and wants. Out of all three girls, Kitty has been the one who’s improved the most. Because of her willingness to open up to Dad, the other two has been able to remain calm and focused. So much so, we are talking about getting collared again. The meaning behind this Collar will deviate somewhat from the mainstream D/s community (Will expand on that later as well). Besides it’s still a work in progress. Once finalized, we will share.

So hopefully, I’ll be able to write more again. May come here more often to reflect what had happened in past 7 months. It certainly feels like a decade in my mind. Cross my fingers that things will look up soon.


Thoughts on Punishment

Someone has asked a really good question regarding types of punishments I receive from Dad. I couldn’t really answer that for several reasons. Primary one being I’ve never received a punishment from Dad. Second, Dad is not a huge supporter for punishments. I certainly do not doubt his ability to administer one, but both of us do not like to resort to that to correct and resolve our problems.

Due to the nature of BDSM community, punishments are often confused with “funishments”. I was once largely drawn towards that. But the more I thought about it the more confused I was. If a punishment is meant as a deterrent, why is it so alluring? Dad once said that true punishment is kinda sorta like death. It’s an unknown. Us humans do not like unknown for an answer. So either we work to find the answer or we assume or fantasize to fill in the gap. It’s a bit abstract, but that certainly explains the alluring part.

Punishment should fit the crime. When something goes wrong, most of the time it’s not solely follower’s fault. There’s an oversight on leader side as well. A wise leader will look at the situation and decide if the follower has truly committed a crime or there’s something else that has caused the failure. If it’s something else, the leader will then troubleshoot with his follower so that they can both learn from that failure and avoid future pit falls. If it’s follower’s fault, the type and severity of the punishment should match the crime committed. Goal is to one correct or mitigate the damage from that failure and two not to have that repeated ever again. If done right, one punishment should be enough for one’s lifetime.

As for me personally, I am always horrified at the thought of disappointing Dad. Many times, Dad would mention something and I’d immediately do it. Think of me as teacher’s pet if you will. I am always driven so that Dad can be proud of me. Think part of that drive is largely due to my past. Don’t think Dad 2.0 was ever proud of something I do or achieve. So that need to be seen and loved out weighs the inconveniences or reluctance to follow orders from Dad 3.0. That said, I am also a submissive at heart. I love to please everyone around me. I want them to be happy. So I’d always try my best to avoid conflict wherever I go.

With all that said, I do have areas of weakness. I get passionate and emotional over things I belive in. Most of the time, it’s a good thing. Like learning a new skill or helping someone in need. Once in a while, I’d let my negative emotions cloud my judgment. Dad would often step in and give me warnings that I was venturing close to making mistakes that’d hurt me. I’d say 99.9% of time, those warnings were enough to keep me grounded. That leaves 0.1% chance where I’d truly fail. I am terrified at the thought of that. I am not really fearful of the actual punishment from Dad, but punishment from my own inner judge. Dad’s punishment will probably pale in comparison to the never ending negative spin that my judge can send me into. I’ve done enough of that to understand how miserable and painful those spins can be.

So when it comes to punishment, both Dad and I are actively working hard to avoid. It has its place, but should not be the first tool to reach for when things go wrong.

Year of Many Changes

It’s been a while since I last wrote anything. This year has been and will be a year of many changes. Those changes are going in the right direction. So don’t worry. Since I am a creature of habit, the Taurus in me is struggling to embrace all the changes that are thrown at me once. Again not a bad thing, just need time to adjust and go with the flow.

Anyway in the past months, I’ve sensed much stress building up. When stress had crossed my threshold of tolerance, I was prompted to ask if Dad would take over some of the power I have over myself. He agreed and this is more or less a temporary power exchange arrangement. I get to choose if I want to keep it for long term or call it off when the need subsides. Because during this time of change, I don’t really trust my own judgment. I need someone else to step in and be like “hey! You are entering a danger zone. Stop! Before you get hurt” For those of you who are pondering what this exchange means, Dad is not my Dominant. Dad is my father forever and always. He just now have firmer grip to my life until I feel safe to venture out again.

Read the Four Agreements book in full this time. Thank you Nora for the suggestion. I’ve gained a deeper understanding of why I need Dad to counter balance me. The book has mentioned that we are our worst critics. We all have a judge and a victim. Our judge goes by our own book of morals and ethics that we wrote during development. For certain people, our judges are extremely harsh on ourselves. They punishes us for the mistake we make over and over again. It goes from just to abuse. Thus people suffers from depression, mood swings, self harm, and a whole list of negative behaviors. What I mean by giving Dad more power is I am handing him my ability to judge myself. I’ve grown tired and exhausted from the self inflicted abuse. I am ready to hand that control over to Dad. He now gets to say if I’ve done a good job or if I messed up. He gets to carry out my reward or punishment. He gets to give me warnings that I am close to danger zones. That sensation is incredibly freeing. It’s like sending my judge to a remote island for a vacation and the inner me can finally come out and play. As long as I follow Dad’s lead, I am safe. Even if I were to make a mistake the punishment will be quick and just.

Who knows, maybe when my judge comes back from her vacation, she will be more relaxed and forgiving. Saying that tongue in cheek, of course. My judge will always be there. Dad will help me to tone her down. Help her understand that it’s okay to let certain things go. She is not a villan. Still need her for my moral compass.

Happy Lunar New Year everyone!

Be kind to each other and most importantly be kind to yourself. Stay safe and healthy!

Hanging on by a Thread

Wide awake at 4am in the morning. Thought to a comment made by my coworker yesterday. It was made to complement my fluency in manderin, but it kinda hurts a little inside….

You see, ever since I cut my ties with my family, there is really no use for me to speak Mandarin on daily basis. However, what’s unique about my work is that a lot of my clients speak Mandarin only. So…pretty much the only time that I get to speak Mandarin is at work. And that was the comment that my coworker made and said my Mandarin is still so good…

Yup, I pride myself in my bilingual ability. Not that I am good in either language, just good enough so people can’t really guess where I am from. In a way it’s a fun little game I play with my clients at times. They’d ask if I was from Taiwan because of the slight Taiwanese accent I picked up from my highschool years. “nope, I came from China.” “Oh…” the dissapointment in that “oh” was often palpable, but I still get a kick out of that. Once in a while my shanghainese clients would talk to eachother in shanghainese and I’d understood their dialect perfectly. That’s always a surprise for them when they realized I understood what they had said. It’s all fun and games until I am reminded that my roots are slowly dying or hanging on by a thread. That definitely stings a bit, I am not gonna lie.

So when I look at my orchids in the morning, I often marveled at one of the orchids with one root system hanging on, literally, by a thread. The root had squeezed itself through a tiny opening under the pot to get to the water thats pooling underneath. In doing so, the root got strangulated at that choke point and is now dangling by a thread. The surprising thing is though, if you look above and under the choke point, the plant is actually doing amazingly well. Strong root systems, healthy leaves, and a flower stem about to bloom. I totally could trim that root, but there is no need to. It’s symbolic in away that I am like that orchid, sprouting new roots but keeping the old. A past thats forever with me no matter where I go.

Personal Mission Statement

Since around Christmas time, Hubby has asked me to write a personal mission statement. I’ve been pondering on that for a while now. It’s pretty much a personal road map for me to abide by, but to draft it has been a bit of a daunting task. Then, an image I came across this morning kind of summarized my thoughts in a neat little package.

Yup that’s what I have been thinking for my personal statement. Of course not in the exact wording, but general thought process. I can extrapolate that and apply to my relationship with Hubby, Dad, sister, coworkers, friends, and everyone else. However, I shall be most strict about it with myself. Shall change my phone’s lock screen to my mission statement, so when I wake up each morning, I’ll be reminded of my actions for the day.

Work tomorrow will be a bit challenging. Another fourth year vet student is scheduled to follow me around. Not that I mind teaching others, it’s just the scrutiny from those students usually makes me keenly aware of my shortcomings. I always see that as a learning opportunity, but still…shall open up my phone, read my mission statement, breathe, and move on.

Don’t think this is the final version yet. It’s a start. A very good start. Life tends to change as we age. Therefore, my road map will also change with whatever life shall offer.

Quiet Reflection

So much is going through my head right now, but much of which are good thoughts mixed with bad memories of my past life. In the last ten days or so, Hubby and I managed to escape the COVID chaos that’s in California and visited Dad and Sister in the quiet parts of countryside. Was fearful of flying due to risk of exposure, but we took every precautions: masks, face shields, gloves, and sanitary wipes. Avoided public restrooms like a plaque and starved ourselves until we reached our final destination. The anxiety of traveling has mostly absolved to contentment. No one is sick so far. Will still worry for a few more days, but I’ll place that on the back burner for now.

As I have alluded earlier, part of many reasons why we made the trip was for me to safely explore my past. Last two days was an emotional roller coster ride. It was still hard to talk about some of my past in person. It felt overwhelming at times but Dad, Hubby, and I talked and listened. The warmth from the wood burning stove did wonders. It was cathartic.

Last two days I could feel my emotions going all over the place. I’d laugh at one moment, cry at another. I went through anger, fear, joy, and sadness in rapid succession. In moments when I felt I was on verge of losing control, Dad lovingly recentered me through his care and guidance.

There was a moment when I wanted to beat myself up and hide my ugly side, but Dad held me firm and forced me to confront the bully that was Me. With hands bound behind my back, and an arm around my neck, all of a sudden I was restricted unable to move or think…Dad protected me from Me. “Freedom in the chains that bind me” a quote that suddenly made more sense to me now.

I later requested a spanking from Dad. Not really sure why I needed it, but it was worth the ask. To my surprise, both Dad and Hubby agreed under the premise that I communicate truthfully. If there was any hint of eroticism, Dad would stop. Dominants have their limits too, and that’s Dad’s limit with me. I respect that a whole lot. He made sure that the spanking was not punishment but rather a reward. A reward of me being a good girl of using my voice.

At the time when the incessant pain rained on me, I was struggling to grasp why I want a spanking for reward. Then it dawned on me as I stopped struggling against my restraints and surrendered to Dad. The reward wasn’t really the spanking itself per se but it was my act of surrendering and his act of dominance that made me feel secure in his hands. The reward was that feeling of security and peace. When I finally surrendered, all the internal turmoil simply melted away. My need for a spanking stemmed from the need to feel physical pain that distracts or replaces emotional pain. Instead of inflicting pain to myself, I handed that responsibility over to Dad. He was hesitant and fearful that the act may harm my relationship with Hubby, but I am glad that he saw me through. I went into a deep slumber afterwards as Hubby cuddled me. No dreams, no worries, no nothing. The bad memories feel like distant past. When I woke up, the swellings and pain were notable. Every movement reminded me of what had happend. The skin glowed and radiated heat I’ve never felt before. Smile. I am at peace.

Now I finally understand why I wanted to be spanked. The answer has eluded me for so long and the mystery is finally solved. A bit sad that the swelling and brusing will eventually fade away, but the whole purpose is to watch those heal and realizing that most wounds will heal given time and care…