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When a D/s relationship ends…

This was today’s thought-provoking email.  I don’t know how to respond to this one.  On Monday, my Sir told me we were through.  I made a mistake.  A big one.  He responded with the heat and temper I had witnessed but it was never directed at me.  Through text he told me I was manipulative and I had hurt him too much, he was done.  He even said “fuck you, T…” using my real name and not the name he gave me.  He is furious, done with me and has not spoken to me since.  He told me to move on.

Devastated doesn’t cover it.  I am mourning not only the D/S, but my best friend.  He saved me and carried me through so many things in my life and the fact that he is gone as my friend is devastating.  I feel responsible.  I feel so many things right now I can’t wrap my brain around it.

I will write more about it when I can.  Right now I am drowning.  My mask is melting and I fear that others will see the true pain I am feeling.  Part of me doesn’t care, but because we were under cover as a couple and only friends on the surface, people will notice the friendship shift, but will never know the true pain I am feeling.

I miss him.  I hurt him.  He is gone.  I just don’t know what to do or how to handle what I am feeling on so many different levels.  It is a pain I have never felt before and I have been through some shit that would seem to top this feeling.  But it doesn’t.  The loss of him is unbearable right now.

I will write about it, I know that will help.  Maybe later.

Many thanks to Kayla Lords and John Brownstone for keeping in touch through email and allowing me to reach out when I felt I had no one.  As busy as they are they were responsive and supportive.  Thank you!

Thoughts provoked by Loving BDSM

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D/s Drop

Have you ever felt a drop after kinky play?

I have. We didn’t have huge long scenes often.  Our timing was difficult.  I remember the scene and I remember being so focused on my body.  More so than ever before.  I wasn’t worried about the way my body looked, the fat moving around, none of the normal things.  I was so focused on what was being done and how my body was responding.  When it was over, I feel apart emotionally.  It was a couple of days before I was back to normal.  It was a strange feeling of pride, sadness, longing, missing him, needing him, not knowing what to do with myself, confusion, clarity, etc.  I was a hot mess and I didn’t realize why.  Our situation made it difficult for him to take care of me how he would like and how I needed him to.  We didn’t plan for it and since I didn’t know what was happening, I didn’t know what to do or ask for.  I didn’t talk to him about it because I didn’t want to bother him. Knowing now, what that was is a comfort that I wasn’t losing my mind.  Not having him anymore makes me almost wish I could feel it again and to have that experience again.  Hopefully I will again soon, and hopefully it will be a situation that it can be handled differently.  Knowledge is power.  

 Can you come up with some ways you might help yourself or your partner through it?

I want to make sure that if it happens again I am prepared.  I have to say in a strange way I didn’t mind going through it.  I wish I had known more back then and could have processed it for what it was.  The other perspective is that I spend 95% of my time hiding my feelings and emotions.  I rarely let people see what is truly going on, even though, I wear my heart on my sleeve.  Contradiction?  Yes.  I will tell anyone what they want to know, and I am an open book.  But I rarely tell you how deeply I feel about things.  Sub-drop allowed me to feel everything and took my power of masking everything away.  If it happens again, I hope that I can process it through with my Dom and get the care I need.  I’m not sure how that will look but I know I will need more after care than my last situation allowed.  That isn’t a statement on him, but on me and what I am willing to accept and need to ask for, require.  It is a rare for me to allow myself to be so open about my pain, physical and emotional.

 

Thoughts provoked by Loving BDSM

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Sub Frenzy

You might have never heard of subfrenzy and still experienced it whether as the submissive or a Dominant. It’s a moment that happens for new submissives or submissives in new relationships where they get a little intense about their submission, sometimes to the detriment of their own safety. It can be overwhelming in healthy relationships and dangerous in bad relationships. It’s good to know what it is and how to recognize it, even if you’re past the point of thinking you’ll be affected by it.

My first and only experience as a sub was exhilarating.  I loved the prospect of it.  I researched and looked at different things and options.  I would imagine what would happen and think about all the possibilities.  Thankfully my Dom was knowledgeable and smart and caring.  He made sure I took it slow.  He didn’t overwhelm me with much.  He always left me wanting more.  Never took it too far.  It was a very nice way to be introduced.

I was in frenzy.  I was desperate to be with him and serve him and have him use me how he wanted.  Looking back now I’m sure I was irritating and very intense.  He had always had other things going on and I was needy.   I know I tried to make him feel bad and guilty about the lack of time he spent with me.  It didn’t work.  He knew what he was doing and I suppose the bottom line was he was only going to have me when he wanted and the time was right for him.  Sometimes I think it was like using me and just keeping me around when others were not available.  In away that hurts, but isn’t that what being submissive is?  I don’t really know anymore, but I enjoyed being available.  The frenzy was hard on me in ways that I am not sure a Dom can understand unless they really try to want to.

As a sub I had needs too.  It could be months before we would have time together and what bothered me most was that it seemed to bother him way less than it did me.  Is that what being a sub is.  During the frenzy and even after, I would ask for things to do when we weren’t together so I would at least feel as if I was serving even if I couldn’t be with him.  That happened on some levels but it wasn’t substantial or continuous.

I handled the frenzy by trying to reason with myself about what I was truly feeling.  Thankfully I had done research and was able to reason with myself about what was happening.  I talked to my Dom about it and he agreed tat was what it was.  Having a conversation about was good.  He reassured me it wasn’t anything I had done wrong or wasn’t doing right, but that he had other things to do and take care of.  It was a matter of getting things straight in my head and being more rational than emotional.

The difficulty was that even out of frenzy I always felt like I needed and wanted more and he wasn’t available as much as I would have liked.

 

Thoughts provoked by Loving BDSM

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Sexual Availability

 

What do you think? Does it sound deliciously sexy?

In my situation, I was always ready for sex or play.  Looking back now I thought that was part of being submissive.  I wanted to be available whenever he needed me.  It was exciting.  I was always prepared.  Always had my nails done in the color of his choice.  I was always shaved how he liked.  I was always ready with his favorite bra and panties or nothing at all.  Sometimes it happened and sometimes it didn’t but I was always ready and willing.  It was my pleasure to be prepared and prepped for him.  It was what I felt was natural.

 

Or does it not sound appealing at all?

The down side was always be willing and ready and waiting but having nothing happen.  Looking back now the reasons we didn’t were many, but it was never because I wasn’t ready or willing.  I couldn’t imagine ever saying no or not being willing.  I always wanted him.  And serving him was without a doubt my pleasure.

Thoughts provoked by Loving BDSM

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Orgasm control

Orgasm control encompasses a lot of different play.

I do not orgasm easily.  I get in my head and all the crazy things go through my head.  What do I look like?  My stomach is so fat!  Am I pleasing him?  What’s next?  This was much worse in my vanilla life.  Since being with Daddy it has gotten much better.  However, orgasms do not come easily or fast for me.  The other side of that is that I am not bothered by it.  I know that if I want/need an orgasm I have toys and things that will make it happen.  The physical part of having an orgasm I have figured out and can have that any time.  It is the physical contact and connection with another person.  The play, the kink, the impact, the feel of a sting from something and then the gentle touch of his hand.  The heavy breathing, the anticipation, the climax in other ways than my orgasm.  Most and best of all, his orgasm.  That moment when he releases and I am the reason.  That gives me an internal feeling of pride and happiness that quite honestly surpasses any physical orgasm I could have.

Having said that, I do enjoy when he allows me to orgasm.

  • Begging for permission – Yes, I enjoy this.  When I get to the point that I know I am ready I will beg for permission and I do enjoy that he has the final decision.  He is the only man I have ever had an orgasm with through fucking, even our vanilla sex he can bring me up to orgasm.
  • Denial – “Don’t you dare cum!” “Don’t you dare raise your hips!”  Ugh!  Drives me fucking crazy and I love it.  He is relentless and I love it.
  • Edging – I enjoy this as much as I can. It is frustrating.  Like I said, I can have an orgasm anytime I want.  When we are together being told to edge and no release is frustrating because I miss it so much.  But I do.  I remember times when he had me edge at work, or when we weren’t together.  I enjoyed that because it made me look forward to when we would be together.
  • forced orgasms – Haven’t experienced this. But I am interested.
  • coming on command – Daddy can make me move mountains. If he asks to do the impossible I make every attempt to do so.  On command… sure… it is pressure, pressure to please, and it is a challenge I accept for sure.

 

Thoughts provoked at Loving BDSM

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D/s without sex??

Have you ever considered D/s without a sexual component?

Woah!  Nope!  Admittedly, with sex is the only D/s I have known or heard about, but recent research has shown there is more to it then the norm.  (Go figure).  Although with my current situation it feels like D/s with no sex and most of the times, no D/s.

Would you be interested in something like it?

You know… maybe.  I’ve been so caught up in my current situation with my current Dom that I never really think about anything other than fixing what is wrong “currently”.  But… I like being submissive and I like serving so I am curious if I would like a situation where sex was not a factor.  Trying to figure out what that would look like is a little strange.  Would it be just service without any kink at all?  Kink with out sex?  I don’t know.  The play and impact play that I like usually REALLY has me wanting sex too.  It is something to think about.

How important is sex to your current or future D/s relationship?

Sex is important to me.  Several levels and several reasons why this is so.

  • I am older (53). I was very late to realizing what I liked and what turns me on.  It took a long time to get here.  A long time of suppressed feelings and wants.  Being older and finding this out late in life makes me feel anxious about postponing or waiting.  I feel a different biological clock ticking.  I have good genes, but I don’t know how long I’ll be able to sustain the style of sex I want and have come to enjoy.  Playing with a 35-year-old Dom, I’m not sure he sees my perspective all the time.  He is craving kids and hears his biological clock ticking but for different reasons.  It is complicated.
  • I played for both teams because at some point my dislike, or disinterest in sex made me think I preferred women. Thought I had answered all my questions.  But I hadn’t.  Something was still missing.  After years of convincing myself there was something wrong with me, I revisited my interest in Kink and BDSM.  (I had shared my interest with a potential boyfriend after separating from ex-husband.  I told him I didn’t want to see him anymore, he violently raped me.  The whole time saying, “this is what you said you liked!” After I escaped, and the ordeal was over, I put aside my interest in kink and had serious trust issues with sharing that part of me with anyone).  I truly believe I have found my place so letting go of it now is difficult.  Sex is fun now (when I have it) and my Dom is very good at knowing what I like and need.  Although he is not in a good place right now, it is still something I want to hang on to.  I know anyone who has been following this has probably been screaming at the screen for me to move on.  But my current Dom was the first person I ever told about what happened to me.  Even my family didn’t know.  I went through the entire thing alone.  Partially because I was embarrassed I let someone that close, and partially because back then, BDSM and Kink were way less excepted or understood.  I knew that going public would destroy my family.  So, I went through everything alone.  The ordeal, the police reports, the court hearing and trials.  All of it alone.  It wasn’t until I met my Dom that he made me feel safe enough to talk about it and share what I had been through.  Then he helped me feel ok about wanting and liking what I do.  Again, its complicated.  Finding someone to trust again is hard for me.  But, maybe letting go of what I have discovered this far is harder.

Everything felt strange and new and exciting and scary… and then it went away.  I usually run from some of the emotions I feel.  I tend to be marinating in them with no way out.  I picture what close to perfect will be, but I just can’t get there.  Is it wrong to depend on sex and the kind of sex I like for the kind of relationship I want?  Could I have the relationship I want and not care about sex again?  So many questions.  So hard to figure out alone.

 

 Thoughts provoked by Loving BDSM

 

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Community Involvement

Have you done it in the past?

I haven’t done this… yet.  I have an interest, but it is something I have not tried and would be nervous going alone.  I don’t have any other friends that are into BDSM (that I know of).  It is always such a taboo discussion item.  Some are open but not sure they would want to join me.  I always considered it a private thing and until recently didn’t think I would be comfortable.  Although, when I started dated a woman who was a new community that I had to acclimate to and did ok.  But it is more acceptable to be gay then to be sexually “out of the norm”.  Although most feel that being gay is out of the norm so there is that.

 What was your experience? Are you nervous or shy?

I am nervous.  I would love to have others to talk to and discuss things with, or just be able to be open about things.  Not to divulge details about my private life, but to have friends that understand why I do what I do and why it is important to me and why I take the role I do.  I am not horrible in social situations if I have at least one person to anchor to.  I don’t have to be glued to that person but having someone I know close is helpful.  Although at times I want to be impulsive.  I have looked for a few groups and found some (more than I expected actually) and it is something I am planning on doing.  I am in the process of researching it now and trying to find something that feels comfortable on paper.  I know I’ll have to go to a few different ones to find the right fit.

Explore your feelings and consider whether the local community is a viable option for you?

I think it is an option and something I want to do.  It is just getting started.  Not having anyone to talk to is hard.  I know my situation is complicated and I have to be careful to not disclose anything Sir would not like.  But finding others to hang with, even on a friend level, would be nice.  Sir even suggested it when I was explaining how I feel about not having anyone to talk to.  It was always something I wanted to do with him, but since that seems a while away, I should get motivated to do it myself.  I see the community on-line (twitter and Loving BDSM) and would love that kind of connection.  To be a part of something, a group, that gets it.

New goal –  find a community event to attend in September.  Maybe August!

Thoughts provoked by Loving BDSM

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Stressful Times

Does it surprise you that you might not maintain the same level of D/s during the stressful times?

No, this doesn’t surprise me at all.  It is where I am in my situation right now.  I don’t think this is unique to a D/s relationship.   Many times, when things are stressful all parts of any relationship have the potential to be impacted.  Through financial stress, family stress (death/illness), work stress and home/work balance, it is all hard to maintain the “normal” of any kind of relationship.  I think this is when the relationship is tested the most, and also strengthened the most.  It is hard, but it is when both people in the relationship step up.  It doesn’t matter which one is struggling, both people need to either increase support or back up on what they need to keep the balance.

Do you think you know how you’ll handle your relationship when it does?

I think I do.  It isn’t easy.  I have always been pretty good at reading people and knowing what the need.  Do I do more things to support?  Do I offer help in a physical or material way? Do I offer advice or just listen?  Do I back away and give space for the other person to work it out on their own and give them time to regroup?  It is something I have always done.  The complication comes in when there is no communication, or the distance is long and quiet.  That is where patience comes in and I must remember it isn’t about me, but about what the other person is going through.  People process differently so I must remember that what may work for me doesn’t work for other people.  The longer I have to give space the harder it is because I am a helper and a doer.  If I see where I can help, I want to do that – whether it is doing the dishes and cleaning up around the house, or just listening.  Being away from the person who is struggling is hard for me.  So, I have to find ways to keep myself busy and mentally healthy while they are doing the same.

What ideas can you consider that might help you when this happens?

I try and keep busy when distance is needed with my own things.  Doing things that (in a D/s relationship) would make Sir happy.  Go to the gym, eat healthy, do fun things with friends, etc.  I also try and be available when he does need me.  This isn’t always easy.  I want to be there and help.  I want to do even the smallest of things that would make things easier.  If I can’t solve the larger issues, I’d like to be a part of solving the smaller ones.  Or, do things so that he doesn’t have to worry about the smaller things.  I have several things I do when I’m able.

I do get angry and frustrated that I can’t be available, and then I do get a little resistant or irritated about the things I do that aren’t noticed or recognized.  I just keep reminding myself that I’m doing it to make things better and hopefully at some point, things will get better for both of us.

 

 

Thoughts provoked by Loving BDSM

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Long Distance Relationships

Long distance relationships, trips without your partner, simply not living together – it all adds up to one thing: being D/s even when you’re not together. The solution you find for your relationship will be specific to you and to your circumstances, but if you’re already living through a long-distance relationship or you think you might one day, it’s good to think about how to make it work when you’re apart.

Well this is a tough one for me.  I had to think about this all day before putting my thoughts to paper.  I’ll do my best to keep this a simple read, but there is nothing simple about it, at least from my perspective currently.

My Sir and I have always seemed to be long distance.  A minute away from him feels like he’s been gone for years.  A mile away feels like he is in another country.  The reality is I live 10 minutes from him and we work in the same building.  And yet, I hardly ever see him.  I hardly ever hear from him.  So, for me, it feels like long distance.

He is in a relationship with his primary.  The three of us use to spend time together.  Intimate, BDSM time.  We were all friends (I was his friend first and have been there through two of their break ups but only got close with her two years ago).  She become uncomfortable with the situation and instead of communicating like we all agreed, she just shut down and stopped talking all together, he did as well as it related to all of us hanging out.  Prior to that I was in a relationship with someone and have separated from that relationship and I am now single.

Sir broke up with his primary to get back together with the love of his life.  (Long story, whole different post) so he decided he needed to focus there and asked that we just be friends.  I agreed.  His happiness is most important.  Eight months later that relationship isn’t working, and they break up.  He reunites with his primary.  She, at the time, agreed he could have a third, agreed it could be me.  She and I mended fences.  It seemed like a beautiful arrangement.  She wanted them to work on their relationship before we resumed.  Months have gone by and she still isn’t ready.  He is trying to be patient as am I.  To be honest we have spent time together without her knowledge.  (Not proud of that but it isn’t as shitty as it sounds – again too long to detail here).

He is my Sir, my Dom, my Daddy.  We have come a long way together and neither of us truly want to part ways from D/s relationship.  But it is rare that we are together.  Rare we play.  Rare we even have time as friends together.   They are once again struggling, and he has asked for time to figure out what he is going to do.  So, I wait.  I am patient.  It is hard.

I believe it was something on Loving BDSM’s podcast where the long-distance relationship was discussed when I first realized that even though geographically we are close, our situation makes it LDR for sure.

Having given the background (and purged some frustration, if only just a little) I now think about what I would like it to be.  I don’t like how things are now.  I miss him.  I miss BDSM.  I miss fucking.  I miss spending time with him.  I miss his laugh, smile, and touch.  When I do see him, he looks sad and tired.  Not because of missing me but because he is so stressed trying to figure out the path to his future.

I will break it down this way;

  • Friendship
    • I’d like texts and phone calls every other day or so to check in and see how he is doing.
    • I’d like lunch or dinner at least bi-weekly for some laughter and catching up.
    • I’d like him to talk to me about what is going on so as his friend I could be there for him as I have been for the past six years.
  • Intimate
    • I’d like some kind of schedule for intimate time. Once a week, once a month even.
    • I’d like cuddle time, and pillow talk
    • I’d like one overnight a month.
  • BDSM
    • I’d like some form of BDSM (outside of rough sex) at least once a month. (seriously, I want it more often, but I’m trying to be realistic
    • I’d like tasks to do for him while we are apart.
    • I’d like him to use my name on our private number and give me instruction on things he wants me to do (separate from tasks – masturbation, training, etc.
    • I’d like him to touch base and check in with me with some form of regularity
    • I’d like him to watch me through the website of my security cameras, so I know he is checking on me, watching and caring.

Quite the list I know.  To me when I read it, it seems like I’m very needy and asking too much.  He was honest and said his primary is so challenging and is stressing him out so badly that she has pulled him out of his Dom space.  He doesn’t have a switch that he can turn it on and off and when she has him so stressed and frustrated he just doesn’t have the energy or brain power to Dom me.  So, he doesn’t and hasn’t entertained any aspect of BDSM with me for a long time.  I get it.  I saw a podcast of John Brownstone and he talked about the fact that sometimes Dom’s aren’t feeling it.  My Dom has told me several times that it takes a lot of energy and time to be a good Dom.  He feels he isn’t being good to me.  He tells me to find someone else, even though it will bother him, he doesn’t want to hold me back.   This is devastating.  He asked me to be patient.  So, I am.  He wants two separate relationships.  She is resistant.  I am not sure how things will end up.  If he leaves her he could possibly go back to the love of his life – and she is not interested in sharing or BDSM.  So, I am not sure where that leaves me.

I don’t enjoy the distance.  I am not sure if I had the choice I would ever entertain it again.  It is hard to miss everything.  The friendship, the BDSM, the fucking, the companionship, the cuddling.  Not to mention trusting anyone else with this kind of relationship is beyond my comprehension.   I am in an LDR, but knowing he is close and we just don’t see each other is difficult.

I do see the benefits to LDR.  Distance makes the heart grow fonder, and makes you miss and want each other even more.  You don’t grow weary of each other.  Time together is more precious.  (This I know because every second with him I value and cherish like it will be my last, because I am never sure it won’t be).  Traveling to see each other, making plans for rendezvous, all that sounds sexy and fun.

But for now, for me, it is a form of torture.  I think with certain guidelines, I would be more comfortable with it but right now it just feels lonely and painful.

 

Thoughts provoked by Loving BDSM

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Rules

Some rules determine behavior in public, others are about private behavior. Some rules may be more common but there’s no right or wrong here.

 Do you know what kind of rules you may want or need in your relationship?

I think about this a lot.  My D/s relationship is technically long distance so time is far and few between.  We were friends first so we have a very casual and friendly relationship.  Sometimes when I go over to the house I wonder which relationship we are working with.  I never know if he feels like being my Dom at the time and we haven’t established any rules around it.  I never know if I should be on my knees waiting on him, or helping myself to a beer from the fridge.  It is really hard.  Because we don’t practice the D/s relationship often, I want it all the time.  To be honest I don’t know if it is something I want full-time.  I believe I do, with the structure and rules in place, I believe I would be happy in that situation.  Maybe some day.  He and I have talked about it and I know it is something he wants.  All in good time I guess.  I always want to wait on him, make him relax, do things around the house that make him happy.  I also like doing things with him.  We enjoy cooking together, yard work together, working on the cars together.  I don’t know how it would work out.  I would like rules and tasks.  I’ve asked for task to do even though we aren’t full time or even have a lot of time together.  It makes me feel good to do things that make him happy.  So rules would be a good thing. 

In public –

I am not sure about this.  Right now the way our relationship is it would be difficult to determine what would work and what wouldn’t.  After reading the resources offered, I understand this can look like anything.  Daddy is a traditionalist so I would imagine in public we would have those roles.  I think this is a good conversation to have so we can hash it out.  I know he doesn’t like when we are out and I go off by myself (bathroom or shopping etc.)  He likes me to stay with him to keep me safe.  I know that there are things that would probably be implemented.  He likes to choose my nail color.  He likes to pick out clothes for me to buy and wear.  He likes to see me be a certain way and he is always checking on me to make sure I am ok.  As frustrated as I get that we can’t be who we really are in public, he finds these little subtle ways to let me know he is watching and paying attention. 

I find it easy to give things over to him.  After two really controlling relationships, I find this strange.  I always go back to – there is a difference between controlling and being in control.  He tells me not to drink coke, and I stop.  He tells me stop vaping and I do.  He tells me to drink so much when I’m sad and I limit myself.  I feel guilty when I do things I know he doesn’t like. 

He can’t focus on me as much as I would like, and while sometimes I doubt it, as much as he would like.  Given the chance, I’d be happy to have rules that would ultimately in the end, make him happy.  I never really see it as giving over parts of my life to him.  While that is what it is, I trust that he will steer me in the right direction.  I trust him to make decisions that are the best for me.  As friends I have trusted him with some pretty major stuff.  In a D/s relationship I would trust him even more to guide me the right way. 

Private behavior –

Rules would be fine.  Even better than fine.  I prefer to know what I am doing, why, and what the outcome will be.  I want to know if I should kneel without being told.  If I should make him a drink without him asking.  If I should be waiting or doing or not doing something.  I am still learning about everything that this entails, and in a lot of ways, redefining myself.  Trying to find myself at this age, restart a life I never expected, get over regrets, forgive myself.  I am tired.  Thinking is hard.  Making decisions are hard.  In private, I believe that he could help with all of this and bring me to where I want to be.  Rules on how to act and what to do, what not to do, with the explanation of why he believes as he does, would only make me a better sub.  Perhaps even make him a better Dom.  I think allowing the rules and discussing the reasons for them would help us both understand each other and what our expectations are. I want to know what is expected.   I want to be sure that what I do makes him happy, pleases him. 

I would love rules, I hope that we can work it out.  I feel, from what I know from the time we have known each other and spent together, that he hasn’t had the Dom experience he has always wanted.  I hope to be able to give him some of that, if only part time. 

 

Thoughts provoked by Loving BDSM

 

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Spanking as punishment?

As a submissive, would you consent to a painful spanking as punishment?

Yes, I would and do.  It is interesting to me and surprising as well.  When Daddy and I first started talking about moving forward with our D/s relationship we talked A Lot about what I thought it was and what I wanted.  I had always had an interest, but it was always taboo.  The one man I shared my thoughts with turned out to be a nightmare and used it against me in the most horrible way possible.  He made me feel guilty about my desire for pain and inflicted pain without consent to the point that I shut my desire out of my mind for a very long time.  I had only investigated and researched and just tried to wrap my brain around what it all meant.  After my ordeal with this man I blocked those desires.  I stopped the research and stopped the inquiries and retreated to my vanilla existence.

When I started talking to Daddy he had a beautiful calm way of explaining things to me.  I felt like all the time on line was beneficial, but Daddy expanded and truly made it make sense.  He usually refers to himself as deviant when talking about sex.  I get it.  It is outside the norm, but it bothers me that deviant has such a negative connotation when it brings us both such pleasure.

Our first shared experience was a spanking.  I remember feeling slightly silly about it.  It was a punishment just a test to see how I responded.  (I didn’t know at the time it was a test or gauge of my tolerance).  When he was done I remember wanting more.  Feeling slightly proud that I handled what I had.  Prouder when I noticed how hard he had gotten from spanking me.  I also remember him making sure I was ok and checking on me during the spanking.  I was oddly happy.  Giddy almost.  It took me awhile to process the emotions I felt from it.  I knew I liked it and I knew I wanted more.

As a punishment this has always been a conflict in my brain.  We have determined I like impact play.  I like spankings, crops, paddles, canes, floggers and his hand.  If I have done something wrong or not done something I was supposed to do, why is spanking a punishment when I love them?  Daddy has never punished me by spanking me.  (I’ve never been punished.  The thought that I had failed or not pleased him is punishment enough, but I am sure when and if the time comes, Daddy will figure it out).  So that was a long answer to the question, but yes, I would consent to a spanking as punishment.

Does the idea of it turn you on or off?

Nope, the idea does not turn me off at all!  The exact opposite.  I’ve always been turned on by the thought of spankings and of course impact play.   Before I had experienced it, I thought maybe there was something wrong with me.  Parents spank their children.  My dad was quick with a spanking when we had taken a mis-step.  (The generation before it was horrible to spank your kids, I turned out just fine).  So, did wanting a spanking to make me weird or some indication I had Daddy issues?  (My Dad and I had a great relationship and while he had his demons, he never turned them on any of us).  I had the same thoughts when deciding to call my Dom Sir instead of Daddy.   I called him Sir for years and just recently through a lot of reading and research, I asked if I could call him Daddy.  It seemed more personal.  Sir seemed too formal for the place we had reached in our relationship.  So, spanking was something that I questioned for long time.  Then after talking to Daddy, and experiencing it, and of course, researching the crap out of it and reading blogs and books and articles, I realized it was ok.  I was ok.  There was nothing wrong with me wanting them and enjoying them.   Most recently, I even asked if I could have one.  That was a big step because I rarely ask for what I want.  (Still working on that).  I love the marks that are left behind because it reminds me he was there.  One of my favorite pictures is of my ass with his perfect handprint on it.

 

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Introducing D/s into your vanilla relationship

How did you introduce D/s into your vanilla relationship?  What worked and what didn’t?

Ugh!  Let’s start with what didn’t.  My first long term relationship was with my now ex-husband.  We never talked about sex, we never communicated what was good and what wasn’t.  We never really joked around or teased each other and there was actually no pillow talk.  It was not just vanilla, it was more structured to the purpose of having kids than to having fun and enjoying each other.  It was not either of our faults, just how we were raised.  Parents that explained the mechanics and medical parts of sex but forgot to mention it was ok to have fun during the process.  We were vanilla and down right religiously so.  It never occurred to me to tell him what I wanted or ask what he wanted.  You just didn’t do those things.  I didn’t enjoy sex at all and it was almost a part time job for me to avoid it.

My second long term relationship was with a woman.  She was sexy and fun and outgoing every where and all the time, except in the bedroom.  It was vanilla and not boring because being with a woman was new to me so that was exciting.  And obviously there were new things for me.  But I did get a little courage up to ask her if she would be interested in using toys.  During the one year time between my ex husband and meeting her, I dated (very briefly) a man who did talk about sex and was very open about things.  He helped me become more comfortable with the actual conversation about sex which then makes sex much more enjoyable.

So on a weekend away to the beach I packed the few toys I had.  She and I started messing around and I ask her if we could talk about doing some things a little different.  I explained it wasn’t that she wasn’t exciting but it could be fun to add some toys to make things a little more exciting.  Well, that was probably a moment killer to go down in history.  Looking back it should have been a conversation separate from the time we were actually messing around but I was awkward and new to the whole open conversation thing.

She was appalled I would suggest such a thing and said it made her feel like she wasn’t good enough without added assistance.  I felt horrible that she felt that way and we never talked about it again.  I through everything I had away (which wasn’t much) and that was that.  From that day on, she was convinced she wasn’t enough and that I would eventually go back to men because she didn’t have a penis.  It got worse from there.

So that experience made me very gun shy about talking to anyone about what I want and like.  Vanilla or otherwise.  I just didn’t talk about it.  When I had sex with others I just accepted whatever happened, within reason, and thought it must just be me.

When I started exploring what I really liked it was the same time I met Sir.  He would talk openly about his preferences, guarded at first with the D/s part of his preference.  He made comments like, “no TV in the bedroom.  Why?  If you’re bored, there is always sex!”  It gave me a comfort level when he would openly talk about what he liked.  We were just friends so it was a natural thing and wasn’t threatening to me because we weren’t in a relationship.  One specific conversation we had I talked about passion and how I hadn’t had  passionate sex, ever.  It always seemed structured and planned and there was no heavy breathing or “wall sex”.  He looked at me like I was crazy.  I explained more and he seemed genuinely sad for me.  We had the best conversations about sex for just being friends.  When we moved onto talking about his more private intimate pleasures I found myself very excited about the prospect of being with him in those ways.  It gave me confidence to let him know I was curious.  That is what lead to us having a D/s relationship (though the story is much more complicated than that) and also my ability to ask questions and ask for what I want.

When I consider being with other Doms I feel Daddy has given me a good foundation on which to start these conversations and not feel like a kid asking for candy at the store.  But stating what my preferences are and what my expectations are with confidence.  Also, knowing what I will and will not accept.

 

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Consent

What does consent mean to you?

Consent is something that allows you to feel comfortable in any situation.  Consent is also fluid.  Even with the best laid out plans, you can get to a point where your original consent is no longer comfortable or feels safe.

I was always worried about consenting to something and then having a change of mind in the middle.  I don’t want to disappoint anyone or stop the feeling.  I also wasn’t sure how to stop an activity without stopping the scene or flow of things.

I have an internal affliction to the word “no”.  I never say it.  I rarely deny anyone when they ask for a favor or some help.  I’ve even offered to do shit I really didn’t want to do because I knew the person wanted it, needed it, expected it, was hoping for it, etc.  This is me in all aspects of my life.  So I knew in my D/S relationship this was going to be a struggle.

What made this easier for me is that the D in my D/s is very good at reading me.  He knows the affliction I have to the word “no” and was sure that when we were/are discussing things that require consent that I am being completely honest.  Sometimes these conversations happen and I am not even aware he is thinking ahead to something he may want us to do.  Sometimes he looks at me and says, “you will hate this so don’t just agree because I’m bringing it up”.  We are lucky in that he can read me and he knows me so well.  However, there could be times when he thinks I’ll hate it, but I think I want to try it.  I never ate broccoli before but I love it now, so who is to say we can’t change and morph and grow.  So, this boils down to communication, conversation, bullshit aside, let’s talk about what this is really going to look like, kind of thing!

On a very small level one example I have of this is my first time with nipple play.  I had never felt pleasure from my breast or nipples.  I wasn’t overly sensitive and I just never got anything from the attention someone would give to my nipples.  I had a breast reduction and I remember the surgeon emphasizing that there was a possibility that I could lose sensitivity.  I remember thinking, there isn’t any so I’m not worried.  After the reduction, and the healing process was complete, I learned I had gained some sensitivity and was quite happy about that.  So when Daddy approached with this adorable cute red close pin, I wasn’t sure how this was going to go.  I guess my face said everything (as it normally does) and he assured me it would be at my pace and he would remove it whenever I wanted him to do so.  Then he said that when he got them, he put them on the web of his hand to see how it felt.  I giggled out loud mostly from the visual image I got from it, but also because I thought it was cute that he cared enough to see what that kind of pinching pressure would feel like.  Small scale but same thought process.

Having things explained and asking questions about it (and expecting answers) doesn’t make you a bad sub.  I was talking recently to someone who says he is dominant and on more than one occasion he mentioned “beating the shit out his sub in ways she hadn’t expected”.  I remember instantly thinking/wondering if she was ok with that.  I know it is a personal hot button when “beating the shit out of….” Is used in BDSM discussions.  It immediately makes me think that the Dom using that phrase doesn’t really get it or is disrespectful in some way.  It is my opinion and my hot button.  I’m sure there are times people use that phrase and it is in fact a very respectful situation and the Dom could be simply amazing.  But term bothers me.  Yep!  I’m judging the instant I hear it.   I’ll hang around to see if I’m wrong but it is a red flag that flaps in my face diligently until I see or hear something that changes my perspective.   His sub was there and she didn’t seem bothered by it, so I can assume she is ok with what happened in the scene.  But my gut tells me she wasn’t entirely in full consent from the beginning.

I believe consent is the sexiest thing ever.  Your Dom has thought about this specific thing he wants to do or try and experience with you.  He tells you about it, talks to you about it, he has researched and is informative about every aspect of it.  With all of that knowledge you consent to this new thing because you trust him.  Fucking sexy if you ask me.  Whether it is walking around with a plastic close pin on the web of your hand, or researching how others are saying something feels and possible responses could be, there was thought and care put into it.  I think Dom’s making that effort are solid.  And whether they get consent or not, this is a learning and growing experience that can only help the relationship going forward.

Consent isn’t about saying “no”.  It’s about having a conversation that can open your relationship up to new things and new experiences.  Any time you are communicating about anything, it is an opportunity for growth.

 

 

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Safe words

What is your safe word?

Daddy and I never really talked about safe words specifically.  It took a long time before we were intimate and even longer before we did anything kinky.  Having said that, he is a big supporter of them and believes they have a place and are important.  He is very skilled at reading my body language and my breathing and making sure I am ok.  I will rarely stop things and he knows this.  He has stopped things before I would have based on my body language and how I am responding to things.  However, through time we have developed words and codes.  For basic stuff we typically use the standard “red”.  It is easy to remember and rarely comes out other than as a safe word.  It is my favorite color so there is a little irony that it is also my safety zone.  When we were talking about safe words I thought about trying to be unique and coming up with something different.  I know myself and would probably forget what it was or use the wrong word.  I had visions of me screaming “asparagus” when I wanted something to stop when the safe word was actually “pizza” and decided to keep it simple.  We have a separate code for when I can’t use my words which is either a hand gesture that is unique to us, or a sound made with my mouth that isn’t a word but doable with my mouth is full.

Honestly, to date, I have never had to use a safe word, or a caution word but it is comforting to know they are there when needed.

 

 

 

 

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Limits

Do you know what your hard limits are?

In the beginning I fell into the category of “I’m your sub, what ever you want I will try”.  Specifically this was meant for in the bedroom.  I’ve listened to podcasts and talked to a few people about this and I think it is interesting what “hard limit” means to people.  It seems to be different depending on the person.  Which is a good thing because we should set our own limits and boundaries, but I specifically mean the actual term “hard limit”.  Some people see it as almost something to strive for which I find interesting.

To me, it means there is something that I will not entertain in any way shape or form.  I am very clear on this and there is no waiver, no hesitation, no doubt. Just “no”.  In the beginning it was difficult for me to come up with anything until I actually started researching and looking into the different kind of kink and the fetishes.  And, obviously, having open discussions about this with Daddy.

There was one time when Daddy asked to spit on his cock, pretty tame and wouldn’t seem to be an issue, but I had a response that scared him.  It brought back some bad memories from a really horrible experience that I had placed in the back of mind to be forgotten.  I legitimately crumbled into a ball on the floor and started sobbing.   I was completely shocked by my reaction.  We stopped everything immediately and he made me talk about what was happening.  I was surprised by my reaction as much as he was.  A few months later, we were casually talking about hard limits, limits in general, and I said, “I know I will have them, I just haven’t figured out what they are.”  He looked at me with those dark eyes of his and said, “Spitting my Toy.  Spitting is a hard limit for you.”  We both kind of giggled about it because I had once again put that in a part of my brain to be forgotten.  I found it interesting that something that seems so innocent as spitting has a label of hard limit.  It did make me realize that hard limits can come in all different ways for people.   I have others that Daddy and I have talked about but they seemed more obvious to me and for me.  Such a person specific thing, it scares me that some people feel they do not have any hard limits.

Are there a few things you’d like to try but you’re a little nervous?

Yes!  Pretty much anything new makes me nervous.  I am always on the edge of wanting to make Daddy happy and the fear of saying no, or using our safe word or codes.  It is an excited nervousness but it still makes me think and re-think things.

I love impact play.  I love having marks from our play.  Welts, bruises, his hand print.  All of it.  I get very excited to try new ways and new toys.  Daddy has many skills and wonderful things we have yet to try to I look forward to all of them.  The one that makes me the most nervous to date is the whip.  I trust him with everything in my body and on my body.  Every time I see it I get excited.  But…. There is that little voice in my head that says… “Ummm… where have you and for how long have you practiced using this thing with accuracy?”  Actually he and I haven’t discussed this because to date it hasn’t come up except when he mentioned getting a St. Andrews cross so he could strap me to it and whip me.  I was instantly excited and willing to try (and it was a passing comment so didn’t lean itself to a conversation about limits in the moment) but my OCD about anything Daddy kicked in to over drive and a million things went through my head.  These of course all hit the notebook where I keep my questions and concerns for he and I to discuss when the time is right for us both.  I’m sure there are others.  That was the one big one that came to mind.

 

 

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Negative Emotions

How do you handle negative emotions like anger, jealousy, and fear now?

My past four years have been nothing but negative emotions honestly.  My daughter’s addiction to heroine was revealed in December of 2014.  2015, getting her clean.  2016, keeping her clean and healthy.  2017, still working on getting my daughter on track, the end of my 15 year relationship and the loss of my beautiful farm and horses, etc.  2018, the death of my second father and supporting my mother and the possible end of my D/s relationship as my Dom struggles to figure out his situation.  Nothing but negative.

By all accounts I should be in the fetal position in a padded room somewhere.  I have had a lot of loss and negative things in my life.  I am a pleaser.  I make sure everyone else is ok and then I try and determine what I need if there is anything left.  There is rarely anything left.  It seems the second I decide to focus on me, the universe decides I have had enough time to rest and throws something else at me.  It has been hell.  As a pleaser and submissive in most parts of my life, I rally to make sure everyone else is OK.  It started when I was 15 and our family home caught fire.  I saw my family slowly fall apart.  My sister moved in with a friend and basically checked out.  My Dad (first Dad) felt like failure and worked and drank and that was about it.  My Mom through herself into rebuilding the structure of the home.  Dealing with insurance and recovery companies.  My role was not defined.  I was 15.  I still had to go to school and realized I needed to get a job to help out.  I realized my role was to continue in school, get a job, and do my best to pull my family back together to try and get some kind of normal life back.  I handled my emotions with food.  I wouldn’t drink because I saw what that did to Dad.  I wouldn’t do drugs because back then, well, it was weed mostly and that made me out of control and I couldn’t do that.  Plus, I was a good girl.  A rule follower.  Drugs were illegal.  I couldn’t do more than try it and the guilt almost killed me.  So I ate.  I then would feel bad about the weight gain.  I even tried to make myself through up but I wasn’t good at that.  So I just ate my emotions.  I smiled, and went to school and work, and helped Mom, and kept an eye on Dad, never letting him think we didn’t love him, and I kept after my sister to come home to visit while we were rebuilding the house.  It was a horrible time.  It defined me.  I can look at that moment as the point where who ever I was before, I would never be her again.  I would be responsible.  I would be helpful.  I would not be the cause of an issue.

Life had struggles here and there going forward.  The death of my first father, the end of my marriage to my daughters husband (failure feelings were a struggle), breaking the rules by falling in love with a women, my sisters journey into a religion I hadn’t heard of and didn’t understand.  Each event was a defining moment.  All negative, that carried negative emotions.  I ate.

When my daughter told me about her heroine addiction, my whole world stopped.  Anything that had happened in the past was no where near as bad as this.  Negative emotions, guilt, fear, sadness, loneliness, regret, it was all there.  When you go through something that stops the world from spinning and sends you into a place so dark you don’t think you will ever see light, there is nothing you can do.  Nothing but fight.  All the negative things that had happened to me faded in comparison to the news I had just gotten.  I stopped eating.  Literally.  My body decided that this kind of negative, this kind of stress, even food couldn’t help.  I went from eating junk food and drinking soda to eating nothing and only drinking water and coffee to survive.

Anger – I rarely get angry.  I literally said yesterday that I was feeling so weird and I didn’t know why and then just said out loud, “I’m just so angry”.  That surprised me because I never feel anger.  I feel hurt and betrayal and all those emotions but I think because of the way people in my life had shown anger, I never wanted to claim that emotion.  I also think that some people prefer you to be angry then hurt, because anger can be explained away somehow, easier than other emotions.  This recent admission had me puzzled.  But I handled it the same way, I pushed it inside and went on taking care of the flooded bathroom, neighbors horrible trash can smell, and all the other little things that apparently had me angry.

Jealousy – I also have a hard time admitting I’m jealous.  I don’t know why because I know this is a normal emotion.  It has such a negative connotation.  It always is met with the thought that you are either being ridiculous, or you are catty and petty.  I am jealous though.  I am jealous of those with nice bodies, great hair, always seem to have their shit together.  I am jealous of people that have long term successful relationships that started in high school.  Those people who knew what they wanted and went for it.  And were successful in getting what they wanted.  I am jealous of the women that has my Dom’s attention and focus, even though she is pretty horrible to him.  I am jealous of people who started professions early on and knew what they wanted to be when they grew up, became that and are now happy in that profession.  I am jealous of people my age looking at retirement, when in reality, I will never be able to retire and travel and do the things I want to do.  I am a jealous person.  But in that jealousy, I always consider the source and I always come back to I had choices and made them, and that is why I am where I am.  So I guess I handle jealousy by rationalizing that we all had choices to make and make them.

Fear – Everything scares me.  Being alone, getting into another relationship of any kind and being afraid I will mess it up again.  Not being able to pay my bills.  Not being able to retire.  Not being able to stay the woman I want to be.  Not being able to trust people again.  My daughter dying again. (yes, heroine tried to take her three times, and three times she came back).  Me having another medical issue when now there is no one with me to help me and I won’t get paid if I don’t work.  Fear of my mom dying, and what the fuck will I do without her in my life.  How do I handle fear?  I run from it.  I hide from it.  I don’t face it.

 How do you expect that to be different in D/s?

I believe this is why my Dom is so important to me.  Once we met, anything I went through he was there to guild me through it.  He is calm.  He is rational.  He is usually right.  He is my best friend.  He has my best interest at heart.  Proven by telling me in this hard time between he and I he wants me to  be happy even if that means finding someone else.  He has given me the tools that I need to be open about how I am feeling.  Not only as a sub but as a person.  He has helped me see my strengths.  He recognizes my weaknesses and vulnerabilities in all aspects of my life and forces me to face all those fears that I would usually avoid and run from.  He is not an emotional person so he can give me the rational and calm side of things.  He has taught me not only as sub but as a woman what I am capable of and still be the woman I want to be.

A D/s relationship with anyone other than him terrifies me.  My Dom and I have built trust and I rely and depend on it immensely.  Sometimes too intensely for him.  Too much for him.  I recognize this and pull back as best as I can.  To trust someone else with this is inconceivable.  I know others do it and some even say it is just like ending a regular relationship, but it is more than that.  It is hard for me to think about how I would handle my negative emotions in any other D/s relationship because that concept is so hard for me to grasp.

I am a strong woman.  I’ve been through a lot and have survived a lot.  Some things I never imagined I would survive.  My current Dom wasn’t there for a lot of it, so I am not saying he is the only way I can survive.  It is a choice that I lean on him.  I am capable of surviving and handling my negative emotions without him, better now because partly of what he has shown me what I can do, and partly because I am a survivor by character and genetics from my Mom.  But handling the negative emotions will always be a struggle.  I assume that in a different D/s relationship, I will have to communicate and speak more openly.  Face the fears and jealousy and anger as I have in the past with an expectation of the same in return.  I will think things through.  I will find ways to stay calm when I’m feeling these things and have conversations about my feelings.

I still can’t imagine having these conversations with anyone other than Daddy.

 

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Communication

What is your communication style?

Ugh! I am a “talker outer.” I want to talk about it, dissect it, rationalize it, justify it, from all perspectives. This is great if your dealing with someone who is the same. I am a good listener. I believe listening is crucial and to listen carefully before you respond. Many times people are already deciding how they will respond before they actually hear the full statement. This clouds judgement and you miss the details that aren’t obvious when your brain is already on to what is next on YOUR mind, and not hearing what the other person is saying.

I write things down. I make notes before the conversation if I have an opportunity. This helps me stay focused. I know it can be annoying to my significant other when I’m checking notes like I am in a meeting, but it helps me stay focused a bit.

The problem is, while I know how to communicate effectively (use to teach classes on it), I am an extremely emotional person. My emotions are visible when its personal. I can go to work and no one will know I’m struggling but I can’t hid anything from the one I am in a relationship with. If it is a sensitive issue, I also get frustrated because I am a crier. I cry when happy, sad, touching, it doesn’t matter. There was a McDonalds commercial that centered around a big brother and little sister and sharing French fries when they were younger and then flash forward and they are older and she is on a date (at McDonalds) and he just looks at her and smiles and holds up a French fry. I was a bawling mess. I wish I could control the water works but I can’t. When the crying starts my communication skills go to hell. And, if it looks like bad news or I am going to disappointed or sad, I have zero control over any of it.

 What happens when you try to communicate your thoughts or needs?

This varies on the situation. If I am calm and it is a decision that is impactful but could go either way and we are just concerned with the “best” outcome, I can be calm and functional. If I am fearful, or if it is conflict, I lose all control. I get scattered and it all becomes what is in my head, what my anxiety and fear and worry make it out to be. I shake, cry, and then calm myself down. I tend to feed off the other person at times. Not always.  This is hard because currently going through something tough has all of that and how I handled it in the front of my mind. I try to stay calm. But my fear of conflict and how I avoid it has me, at times, quiet and non-responsive and not saying what I am really feeling.

Like most people, I walk away and all the things I should have said come to mind. I have beautiful conversations in my own head where I am strong and determined and detailed about my communication. My responses are not emotional they are well thought out, when I am alone and having these conversations in my head. At the time I tend to be responsive and emotional so I don’t always articulate the way I want to. If I tell someone who they have hurt me, a simple “Is that what you think of me” will have me doubting my thoughts, even though I know I am right. This causes me to back down. This is the most frustrating thing about myself.

 

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Handling Conflict

How do you handle conflict now?

Conflict is extremely difficult for me.  I go back to my always wanting to make everyone happy and never wanting people to struggle, and feeling bad if I can’t fix things.  So, conflict with me as a participant in the conflict is extremely difficult.  I struggle.  I will typically back down and just give in, even on things I feel passionate about.   I have major guilt for certain things that happened with my daughter and her step parental figures where I should have stepped in and didn’t.   I’d like to think I have learned from this, but sadly, I feel like it is still something I’m working on.  In all of my relationships I hesitate to express when I am not happy because I don’t want to lose the good parts that I have.  I don’t know why I connect the two, but I do.

How do you imagine handling it in D/s?

Again, my D/s relationship is not full-time and the situation is unique.  We are friends to the world.  Our D/s relationship and our romantic relationship is under cover.  This is hard.  It is also really difficult when there is conflict because much of the conflict is on my end based on the situation.  The conflicts I identify are;

  • needing more time
  • getting information from others that I wish he had told me himself
  • not knowing what is going on, and
  • distance and silence.

As friends, none of this should matter to me other than he is my friend.  As his lover this is troublesome and difficult.  As his sub, these things are devastating.  (His primary knows he has others, we don’t flaunt it because she is sensitive to it.  As a secondary, it is hard to always be last on the list of getting time and attention).  He is very good at communicating, when he communicates.  He is the type that holds things back and thinks things through before discussing it I am not.  I typically want to talk about things.  We both know the situation is awkward and we make promises to get better but then life happens, or work happens or family happens and we become just friends on the surface.  This has me harboring all kinds of disappointment and feelings of neglect and not being enough to keep his attention, etc.  But as a whole, we handle things with discussion and do it calmly.  I am not one to rant and rave, unless I’ve harbored it too long, so in a regular situation, I would need to learn to speak up when things bother me and try to work it out early on.  I think conflict in any relationship is difficult and in a D/s relationship I think it should be handled in the best way possible.  I am not sure if it would make sense to have rules surrounding the expression of discontent.  Maybe this would help some of the anxiety around not knowing when to express my concerns.  I do feel hesitant to express when I am upset, but this goes back to me not wanting to add stress and aggravation to him.  I know I have a right to express my concerns as well, but his primary is constantly bringing up things that aren’t right with them, so it is touchy for me.  He told me once, I am his calm place.  Where he feels at peace and relaxed.  I like that and want to keep it that way, so I rarely ask for time or let him know when I am struggling.  There have been a two times when I did and he has said that perhaps we should just stop the D/s relationship because I seem unhappy with it all.  This devastates me and makes me think it is easy for him to walk away.  So I always say no that I don’t want that, but feel we need to talk about things.  We usually do and things are back on track.  He isn’t one to have lingering three-day conversations.  We typically talk about it, find a common ground and move on.  I like this because my other relationship would bring back things from the past all the time, clearly showing nothing has been resolved.  I think we all handle conflict differently and there may be some differences in the D/s relationship, but I don’t think that being a Dom or sub means you handle it completely different.  I think the roles may play a part but the need for resolution is still there and those needs should be met regardless the situation.

 

Do you think you will need to do things differently in a D/s relationship?

I feel I will need to get over my fear of addressing things when I am upset.  Right now it is fine because it isn’t full-time, and when we are together it is usually fun and light-hearted.  A more full time D/s relationship may need more attention and time to resolving conflicts as they arise.  It is hard for me to imagine what a different D/s relationship is going to look like.  This is the only one I have known and it isn’t typical from what I can tell.  This is sad, but where I am right now.  I hope I get the opportunity to have a more full time D/s relationship.  I know I will need to speak up for myself more than I do now.  My conflict resolution skills depend heavily on knowing upfront what life and circumstance will look like.  If the expectation is set in the beginning there is a foundation to go back to when things start to feel uncomfortable.  I am also very emotional and empathetic.  If I express my concerns and feelings and someone else does the same, I instantly feel guilty for not understanding how the other person felt.  I will need to be able to put this aside and not back down on my own feelings because someone else is telling me theirs.

 

Thoughts provoked by Loving BDSM

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Punishments, yes or no?

As a submissive, are you willing to allow a Dominant to discipline or punish you in your relationship?

Yes, I am willing.  In the beginning of this journey this always puzzled me.  I was learning what I liked and didn’t like a little at a time.  It was a long process because it was part-time.  Most of the conversations were through text or over the phone.  Rarely face to face.  At the time, that was a blessing for me because I was embarrassed to express my ignorance about many things.  But one of the things that I had realized is that I liked spankings.  Now I realize I like all kinds of impact play.  Back then, I just knew I liked spankings.  So, when the discussion of punishment came up, and it related to spankings, I would get this strange and puzzled look on my face.  I finally asked Daddy (Sir at the time) about it and he giggled.  He agreed it sounded strange that something enjoyed could be a punishment.  He said it was individual to each Dom and sub and that it depended on the transgression, etc.

Personally, I have rationalized it as the following.  I know I enjoy spankings, but internally I would be disappointed in myself for failure and disappointing Daddy, so a spanking because I had done wrong, internally would be perceived as a punishment.  It would be difficult to enjoy based on the reason that it happened.  Also, after the spanking of fun and joy there is usually much more for me to look forward to.  I know Daddy well enough to know that had I don’t wrong and been given a spanking as my punishment, there would be no after spanking fun.

There was one time when I wrote on his bathroom mirror in lipstick, “forever your Toy”.  He had a visceral reaction to my action and strongly suggested that I like it off.  I was visibly sad and wasn’t sure what I had done wrong.  I explained I thought it was a cute gesture.  He explained it was a sign of me taking ownership of my place.  We understood each other’s perspective, so I could finish cleaning the mirror a different way.  I feel that being punished is acceptable and the punishment should fit the transgression.

I have often wondered if a Dom fails to meet his tasks and his end of the bargain, so to speak, what the consequences would/could/should be.  I believe that a Dominant has responsibilities as well.  Not that a Dom should receive a punishment, but should there be reaction or compensation to the sub if the Dom fails to do what he promises to do?  Maybe he does something extra for his sub?  Maybe the sub gets extra attention or something that is agreed upon.  Just a thought.  J

 What kinds of punishments can you imagine for bad behavior?

This is interesting too. As mentioned above, I thought licking the lipstick off the mirror was equivalent to my transgression, even though I didn’t realize I had done wrong.  Spankings, corner time, holding back other things that the sub looks forward to all seem appropriate.  I recently saw a podcast from @John Brownstown where holding back communication is not a good idea as a punishment.  I completely agree with this.  As a sub, it is the worst thing in the world when I experience silence for even a minute.  Holding back communication limits the sub’s ability to learn from their mistakes.  It is devastating and has little positive results.

The punishment should match the transgression.  I remember one time in talking with Daddy about something.  I don’t remember how the conversation got started but he said, “what if I put you in a dark closet, blindfolded, and left you there to think about what you did.”  I was speechless on a few levels.  First, holy fuck!  I am not afraid of the dark, but I do have some phobia issues with closed in places, so I instantly got uncomfortable.  I was shocked he would even think of doing such a thing.  But, admittedly I had seen much worse treatment in videos and in my research.  Bach then I wasn’t sure if any of what I saw was as punishment or slave treatment etc.  So, coming from him that was harsh as he had never indicated anything close to that.  Secondly, and more importantly, I couldn’t imagine anything that I would do that would warrant that type of treatment or punishment.  I am usually right on track with everything I am supposed to do.  Although, being part-time and at times more LDR than anything else, I don’t have a lot of task and things that I do for him.  He expresses his displeasure with me very pointed questions as to why I felt my actions were valid or ok.   I assume if we ever reach a point where we are more fulltime or have more time to explore these things we will have deeper conversations about punishments and tasks and things.  I am the type of person that will probably request to assign a punishment to each task, so I will know what the risk is for not completing a task or doing something I am not supposed to, but Daddy tends to like the element of surprise, so we shall see.

 

Thoughts provoked by LovingBDSM

 

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While patience is needed

It is hard keeping my mind busy and occupied.  I was asked to be patient and left with a long hug and gentle touches.  So patient I will be.  Why is it the hardest things to do are the things you must do.  I want my mind to keep busy.  I want my body to keep busy.  I really want to craw into bed and wait for the patience to have paid off.  But not everything we want we get.

During these times I try and think of what would be the best thing or things to do.  What will be appreciated, what will please him, what will benefit us both the most in the down time.  He didn’t give me these things, these are from years of knowing him and knowing what he wants from me in general.  And knowing he wouldn’t want me to change a thing that I do that pleases him.

What will be appreciated?

  • Give the time that is needed
    • Be patient and keep things light and positive as possible when we do talk
  • Keep stress as low as possible on my end
    • No break downs, no long sad texts, no pressure for time, wait to hear from him
  • Keep my mind positive
    • Remember his face when we talked the last time
    • Remember it was hard for him
    • Remember his last words, “Be patient, Toy”
  • Keep myself busy
    • Keep my house straight and yard nice
    • Go to the gym
    • Eat well and healthy
    • Go out with friends
    • Don’t sit home alone and depressed
  • Keep my mental health in tacked
    • Write down my thoughts often and be open and honest in them
    • yoga and meditation and breathing
    • Work out the way he has taught me

What will please him?

  • All of the above mentioned!
  • Helping to make him laugh
  • Keep a journal of all the thoughts of him (kinky and not).
  • Not crying to much over missing him, and not getting too depressed
  • Not over thinking and worrying too much

What will benefit us both in the downtime?

  • All of the above
  • Make my own list of task of things I know will please him to share with him when he is ready
  • Continuing to improve my health, physically and mentally

Tasks (short list, needs more thought).

  • Go to the gym regularly (minimum 3x a week but as much as possible)  Track workouts
  • Continue with nails, keep colors he loves on rotation
  • Dress as he likes frequently (a dress or skirt at least one day a week even if I know I won’t see him)  Maybe take pictures of my outfits and shoes.  He likes my shoes!
  • Listen to music, work on my singing and piano and guitar (all need lots of work and time)
  • Write more and often
    • Music
    • Poetry
    • Keep up with blog
    • Keep learning about writing and gathering thoughts for future stories
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Negociation

This is interesting for me to think about.  I rarely negotiate.  I usually go along with the flow and try not to make waves.  This comes from my need to make people happy and my fear and disdain of confrontation.  When things come up where decisions are to be made I am usually comfortable with voicing my opinion, but rarely force an issue.  My Mom is the same way and she is where I get it.  She says, (and backs it up with her actions) she picks her battles.  If it seriously means something to her she will push the issue, or attempt a negotiation, but she picks these times carefully.  She thinks things through and then decides if it is worth the energy to push for what she wants.  This is me.  Thanks Mom.  In some ways I am glad I am this way.  In other ways I wish I was more skilled at sticking up for myself and letting people know what I want and what is important to me.

However, with My D/s relationship and Daddy, I have found I haven’t had to push for what I want or wanted unless it was for more time.  My characteristic of always wanting to make him happy and not add stress usually steered me away from being too demanding.  Not even demanding, but I never wanted to add stress to him.  So, I let him know when I was feeling needy or missing him, and he usually responded with some time of some sort.  We didn’t live together, and I was a part-time submissive, so we didn’t have the normal processes (Or what I perceived as normal) as other relationships.

I asked for tasks I could do on my own, and I also asked for a contract, but neither of these things became formal or written down.  Daddy said the contract would happen, but we had to wait until the timing and situation was better.  This never really happened or has happened.   I am hopeful, somewhere down the line if things work out we can have time for this and will make it happen.  We had/have un-official things I would do.  I would check with him on what he wanted my nail color to be before getting a manicure and pedicure.  I told him when I went to the gym and what kind of workout I did.  Those kinds of things.  I loved when he told me what he wanted.

Will you have a contract?

I would like a contract.  I like guidance and rules and I like knowing what is expected of me.  So a contract would keep me on track and also allow me to be sure I was doing what was expected and what makes Sir/Daddy happy.   I enjoy talking about what I can do for him and how I would be rewarded.  I would like to know when things are due to be done.  Inside and out of the bedroom.  I have thought about how nice it would be to set out his clothes, make his lunch and have things prepared for him for the next day. Those kinds of things.  They are things I have seen over the years that his primary doesn’t do and that I have wished I had the chance to do.  There are many things.  I would love the opportunity to explore this with him.  I don’t know if I would feel the same way with another Dom.  I hope I never have to think about that.

Do you need a checklist?

Haha!   This made me giggle!  My check lists have checklists.  When I do something that isn’t on the to do list, I added then cross it off.  I like to see the progress of checking things off.  If I had tasks and things to do I would probably put them all in an excel spreadsheet, and have a manual hand written one.  It is an illness!

What exactly does a negotiation sound like?

We have had small conversations that could be negotiations.  Me telling him what I would like and then him asking questions for more details or to get a better idea of what I meant, or what I truly wanted.  It was never planned, never scheduled, sometimes in text, sometimes on the phone.  Sometimes when I was really upset about something we would negotiate how to make me feel better and how to make sure it didn’t happen again.  There was one time when he handed me a book and asked me pick the things I would be interested in trying in the bedroom.  It was wonderful.  We were always more casual.  It is funny, it use to bother me because I wanted so much that never happened and wanted these official D/s conversations to happen frequently.  But now, I’m thankful for every single one, whether they were official or in between singing together in the car and going through the drive through.  I just want them to happen again, however they happen, it doesn’t matter as long as they happen again.

 

Thoughts provoked by LovingBDSM

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Labels

Beyond the basic title of Dominant or Submissive, are there other titles you prefer or are interested in exploring?

Entering in this new type of relationship I had no idea how many layers and labels were out there.  Submissive seemed to define me because I am just that submissive.  After being around and through some reading I am learning of the different labels that are out there.  I get conflicted at times but remind myself they are what and as they relate to me and my relationship and what they mean to me is not what they mean to others necessarily.

Daddy started calling me Toy (when I still called him only Sir) after we talked about him wanting a nickname for me.  Toy was something we agreed on after discussing what it could mean.   I am his.  I am his play thing.  I am his to use, etc.  I liked the idea because at the time it seemed unique.  It is unique to me as it is my name, but when I read some blogs and stories to others it makes you more of thing.  “Useless toy”, “fuck toy”, etc.  It bothered me at first, even though when Sir calls me his fuck toy, I like it.  Toy is my name like Mary or Sally would be.

I struggle with labels because of my back ground in the normal arena of people with disabilities where labels were a bad thing.  Usually demeaning and derogatory.  So, I wasn’t immediately comfortable with applying one to myself in this realm.  After research, and relaxing a bit of my political correctness, I reviewed some list and came up with my own list of labels that I was comfortable with.

Submissive – this defines me the most.  I love to be of use and service.  I really relate to being a service submissive.  It isn’t just about what happens in the bedroom but making my Sir happy and comfortable and doing whatever I can to relieve his stress and make his life easier.  Going forward, I feel I would more apt to identify myself as a service submissive.

Masochist – This one surprises me the most.  I have started really looking into this and what kind of masochist I am.  I am finding that everything can be broken down to the smallest degree, which can be both fun and interesting to confusing and frustrating.  To name a few that immediately come to mind;

  • Impact play – I am a crop whore! Crops, paddles, belts, flogging. We haven’t used whips or canes, but I am interested in them and curious.  I love the marks and bruises I get from these things because they last long, and I am reminded that Daddy was with me and used me.  I love the marks and bruises so much that I am sad when I don’t have them.
  • Compression play – I don’t know if this is a thing, but it relates (for me) to my breast.  My nipples have little sensation, some but not much.  I am jealous of those who have sensation there, but for me they have never been a thing.  Pinching, pulling, squeezing, twisting is a stinging sensation and I enjoy it, but having my full breast grabbed and squeezed is more of a turn on.  Again, Daddy has left his hand print in bruises on my breast and there is nothing better.
  • Bondage – Daddy and I have never done this, but we have talked about it. I was tied up once in a non D/s relationship I found it very exciting.

Baby girl – This makes me giggle because I am huge Criminal Minds fan and Derick and Garcia makes this a cute and sexy thing.  Looking at this separate from that, I love this title.   I love the sentiment and the closeness of a relationship it speaks for.  Daddy doesn’t call me this, but I do enjoy being considered that.

Little one – I like this too.  Maybe it is because I have never been considered a little anything!  I enjoy being childlike at times.  I enjoy being taken care of.  At times, I even enjoy being treated like a child.  I seek the approval like a child does.  I think sometimes I blend Baby girl and little one to make it my own.  Daddy has a primary he calls Little One so as a label I shy away because it is her name.  I think I may be a little jealous of that, but I can claim it as a label when I’m feeling that way.

Toy Again, his is my name.  So, to use it as a label is a little weird for me, but I am that to Daddy.  I define it as there for him when he needs me and how he needs me.  I just hope that on some days he wants to play with me as his toy the same way he enjoys his video games!

Are there any that turn you off or don’t seem like a good fit for you?

This gave me a lot to think about.  While we are in the bedroom, Cunt, fuck toy, slut, seem sexy and hot.  Outside the bedroom, not so much.  When we are cuddling, and it is a soft whisper in my ear I like it.  But outside of that, I don’t enjoy them.  For example, if I am one room and Daddy is in the other and wants my attention, hollering “Slut” or “Cunt” to call me to him is not a turn on for me and may make me feel a certain way.  Daddy doesn’t do that though.  He tends to address me as “T” or “Toy” so I don’t know how it would make me feel.  I love it when he calls me “T” when we are around others because it is acceptable for my name and no one knows when he calls me “T”, we both hear “Toy”.

 

Thoughts provoked by LovingBDSM.com

 

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I fear I have ruined you…

What do you say when someone says that to you. I stare into his gorgeous face wrecked with seriousness and sadness. I’m scared to speak as the tears sting my eyes and my chest tightens. Ruined me? How could he think that? Because I’m sad about our situation and struggling with the distance? He looks between me and the computer screen as flashes of light and dark scenes fill the brightly lit room like explosions that match my emotions and the queasiness on my stomach. I feel the physical pain of his words. My mouth waters a warning I may vomit. My body screams and my heart breaks. Ruined me?

In seconds my mind starts the familiar reel of our relationship. The smiles and laughter, the loss and tears. The video of us over the years as we morphed from co-workers to lovers to the D/s relationship that finally allows me to feel as if I have arrived home, after years on a journey full of doubt and darkness.

My mind races, capturing all the moments that was my growth and my blossoming into the woman I am now. Gone is the woman who laid awake wondering what was wrong with her. Gone is the woman who feared her life would be nothing but a lonely relationship in an unhealthy marriage. Gone is woman who felt lost and ugly and unloved and un-needed. Gone is the sad depressed woman of low self esteem who never believed anyone like him would ever want me. Gone was the woman who undressed in the dark and made love under blankets.

What I am now is confident, strong, determined. I feel sexy. I feel comfortable. I feel powerful. I know what I want. I ask for it. I beg for it without humiliation but because you has shown me I deserve what I want. I submit now, not to a controlling person who only wants there own gratification, but I submit to a Man in control who wants our mutual satisfaction.

I wear clothes I never would have before because you assure me I look good in them. I embrace the curves I use to hide and cover. I smile and laugh with confidence because you have taught me my smile is beautiful and my laugh is contagious. I listen to various types of music and yes, sing those songs with confidence when before I was afraid of my voice. I am a new woman but more myself then I have ever been.

Ruined me? My dear Sir, my sweet Daddy, you have created me. You have taken a broken shell of a woman and put her back together and molded her not in your image but the image you new I could be. Slowly with grace and patience, you taught me how to live again, true to myself.

Ruined me? No Daddy, you saved me.

Your Toy

I love you

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Submissive

 

Does a submissive have certain Behaviors?

Speaking for myself, I have specific behaviors that I now categorize as submissive but this was a late realization.  I want to do for people.  Make people happy, comfortable, have less stress in their life.  I have always been the one to offer to help and rarely understand that it is ok to say “no”.  This is good and bad.  I never considered it submissive but more helpful and caring.  When I got into a relationship with my Dom, and we talked about submission, all the traits seemed natural to me. They were all things that have always been in me.  The kinky part of sex I believe was always there too.  Wanting someone else to take control in the bedroom.  I like directives, I like to please so I want to know what pleases so I can do those things.  I think submissives all have those traits while they very on different levels and in different situations.  I believe that most submissives have a need to be needed.  I have a need to be needed, wanted, missed, have importance, have value.  Those are things that are important to me and what I feel make me submissive.

Do submissives do specific task?

Yes.  I think this varies from each relationship and as agreed upon.  Ranging from tasks around the house (depending on the type of D/s relationship you have) to maybe prepping for a scene, cleaning up after.  Specific things that can make the submissive feel useful.  I like schedules and planning.  I like knowing what is expected of me and then being allowed to do those things, accepting guidance if needed. I get upset if I don’t have tasks because it makes me feel less needed and valued.  My pseudo long distance D/s relationship is difficult for me because there is no schedule as to when I will see my Dom or when I am needed.  This leaves me feeling useless and not needed, and ignored and forgotten.  If I have tasks to do, it allows me to feel useful and helpful.

When you think of a submissive and submission, what thought comes to mind?

Service –  in that you are there for the things that make it easier for the Dom to do what he needs to do.  This allows more time for the other things that you both can enjoy and do together.  If the submissive is cooking dinner while the Dom is winding down from work, or taking care of something else in the home, it then allows that time for the two to be together at the end of the day or however things are played out.

Support – there so the Dom doesn’t feel like everything is on him.  Being a Dom to one is tough to many is difficult.  I realize it isn’t easy managing the tasks and working that out but once it is all established it makes everyone at ease and all know there place and their roles so there is no question of what needs to be done.

Partnership – Not everything has to be an order or controlled.  Working together to make the relationship work is key.  While there is a hierarchy, there is a level of partnership to make things work.  Whether it is a contract and everything is explicitly detailed, or casual agreement, it is a partnership to each reach and maintain the goals set for all involved.

 

What kind of submissive are you?

I believe I am a service submissive, masochistic, baby girl (although this doesn’t come out as much as I would like it to).  I am still trying to figure everything out.  It can be a bit overwhelming.  Having a long distance D/s relationship is difficult when you are trying to determine what you want and what you need.  Everything feels urgent and at the same time, everything feels like it is slipping away with little concern to how this impacts me.  I’m still going to keep trying to figure it out. It is an every second of every day struggle.

 

Thoughts provoked by @lovingBDSM.com

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What does Dominance mean to me?

Being submissive was a subtle realization.  It started with the realization that I didn’t like sex.  I swore it must be something wrong with me, because anyone I talked to was having great sex.  Couldn’t wait to have sex.  I was at the point where I could take it or leave it I usually chose to leave it.  Looking back now I can justify it as the time and the generation where my sexual awareness should have been exposed to different things and options.  I was raised to marry a man and have kids.  We didn’t talk about sex at home except for the logistics and how to’s of it.  We didn’t talk about gay people, we didn’t acknowledge any other option then the one mentioned above.  At the time I was fine with it because I didn’t know better.  After being with my husband for a total of 19 years, I still wasn’t enjoying sex.  I thought it was me.  It had to be me because everyone else was having a grand time.  I’d rather watch TV and eat.  We separated when my daughter was 5.  Welcome depression and self loathing.  That’s a whole other topic.  I met a man who was a lot more adventurous than I was.  I wouldn’t say he was a Dom, at least not to me, but he definitely introduced me to things I was not aware of and had never thought of.  He was the first one to openly talk about sex, threesome, watching me with another women, and the first to tie me up.  Well, hello there orgasm!  I knew then that there was something else out there but it so forbidden I just didn’t talk about it.   I didn’t have any friends after the divorce so I suffered in silence with porn as a friend.  He was also the first one to tell me that women also watch porn, and its ok.  He turned out to be a jerk, but I do thank him for the introductions.

When I met the man I currently call Sir/Daddy, we were friends and co-workers.  Eventually the natural cute flirting turned into something more serious and through a series of texts and conversations he reveled his intimate pleasures.  He said he thought he would be too dominant for me.  That triggered an interest because I had started reading up on BDSM and the different things out there.  I remember replaying, “are you a Dom, or a 50 Shades of Grey Dom?”  That opened the door for more conversations and led us to where we are.  So there is a little background (way more needed to make it all make sense but for this purpose I’ll stop there).

 What does dominance mean to me?

Dominance to me is something I am still learning and discovering.  I am definitely submissive.  There are times I want him to have a stronger hand and want guidance.  I truly want to be told what to do but equally important is that I have his approval and praise on the things I do, with or without him having to ask, or tell me to do.  Dominance is a controlling figure, guiding, assisting and helping me to grow and become a better submissive, and in some ways a better person.  I have had two very controlling relationships that ended badly, so I believe there is a difference in being IN control, and being controlling.  I want discussions to be had when I have questions.  Not that I questions him, or sometimes, that I do question him, but he is open to the discussions.  Dominance is an authority, not necessarily all-knowing but willing to learn and know so that guidance is done with knowledge and confidence.

What traits will a Dom have?

A Dom should be a good communicator.  Working on communication is ongoing in any kind of relationship.  I use to teach communication skills and honestly it is the hardest thing to do well.  Everyone communicates differently and you have to find that balance and the meeting point.

A Dom should be able to read his submissive.  Again, not easy but over time you should be able to see signs that will give you a clue that something is great, or not so great.  Noticing a silence, a facial expression, body language, tone of voice, or when you melt in a puddle, knowing if it’s because the show is sad, or you are feeling something deeper.  (But leads back to communication and be able to open up to each other to actually learn those signs and know them well).  I am not saying you have to be a mind reader, but you have to acknowledge when things are different and why.

A Dom should be attentive.  Even when its busy and life is crazy.  The worst thing for me is silence and lack of contact.   I have gone two weeks without hearing from Daddy and it is hell.  My mind goes to all the horrible things that could be possible.  I never think, “Oh he is just busy,”.  I think that I have done something wrong, I have angered him, I’m no longer important to him, I’m no longer needed, I no longer fulfill his need for a sub.  He has others so I also go to he has someone else fulfilling his need, so he doesn’t need me anymore. (That is specific to my needs of my Dom, but the attentiveness I think is a general trait that Dom’s should have).

Patience.  Lord knows it isn’t easy having a submissive, particularly a needy one always asking if she is enough.   I have guilt from some of the text I sent in my manic panic swearing I know he is done with me.  So, patience (from all involved) is necessary.

Understanding.  It isn’t easy being submissive.  Being a submissive and having the need to be submissive is very difficult.  Logically, some submissives can talk themselves through the reasons things aren’t happening or other things are happening that you don’t like or even want to understand.  The worst part is wanting to be of service (in or out of the bedroom) and being denied that opportunity.  A Dom that understands how the submissive works is essential.  Hard to find, but essential in the mental and also physical health of the submissive.

How should a Dom behave?

This is hard for me.  I know how I want to be treated and how I want my Dom to behave but that is different for everyone.  I believe there should be caring, understanding, kindness, guidance, compassion, patience, love, fun, laughter.  My situation is unique (or so I think) in that we are best friends, co-workers, lovers, and D/s.  These relationships intertwine so much and so often (and sometimes not often enough) that I don’t know what a full-time Dom is like or should be like.  That makes me sad, because that’s what I want, but I don’t think that is the cards for me.  So from my perspective as my situation is now, I would say this.  I want my Dom to be attentive.  Acknowledge that our situation is difficult me and acknowledge that pretty regularly.  Be understanding when I am needy and grateful when I express that need.  Be flexible to help me express my submissive side even with our complicated situation.  Acknowledge that while I accept how things are, I don’t always like it, and I don’t always understand his choices or decisions.  To be there for me when possible and acknowledge that when he isn’t able, it is hard for me.  Be aware that I am waiting to serve him and take every opportunity that presents itself to allow me to do that, and make an effort to allow me to serve when those opportunities are no where in the near future.  But even typing that sounds selfish of me.  My submissive self struggles to allow me to say what should and shouldn’t be, because I know his struggles and as his friend and sub, I just want to make his life easier.  So setting demands or expectations seems weird.  Not that he doesn’t allow it, that I don’t want to add that pressure.  I know how I want my Dom to behave but since that isn’t possible, I can say how I want it to look, and hope for the best considering our situation.  I haven’t been exposed to other Dom’s except that ones that fall into the “asshole” category.  I put myself in situations that were dangerous and I’m lucky it didn’t turn out worse than it did.  That wasn’t fun so trusting was tough.  That is why starting as friends made sense and made the transition easy for me.  I was ready to go full speed into the brick wall of BDSM and he made sure I hit the brakes.  Sometimes to my frustration and great disappointment but looking back now I know he was watching out for me.  That is how a Dom should behave.

Thoughts provoked by LovingBDSM.com

 

 

 

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Watching Him Sleep

There are few times that I have the opportunity to watch him sleep.  We take advantage when we can and I am always more grateful than words can express when I get to lay next to him and wake up with him in the morning.

In past relationships there was always a routine.  This was good because I knew what to expect, and bad, because I knew what to expect.  Brush teeth, wash face, get in bed, have sex, roll over, sleep.  This was my vanilla life.  With Daddy, it is different every time.  I don’t know what to expect and while it is frustrating it is also exhilarating.

We assume our regular cuddle position and lay there, still and quiet.  Cuddling with him is the most relaxing thing in the world to me.    There is the warm feeling that starts at the outer limbs and slowly moves to meet in the middle of my body as I melt from the heat of him.   I feel my body relax one muscle at a time, realizing how tense I am on a regular basis in my daily life, even when I feel I am ok.

I feel his beard on my neck, the warmth of his breath on my face like veils of protection.  These are reminders that I am alive and the numb feelings that dwell in me, the doubt, the loneliness for him dissolve.  They leave my body like a thin vapor I can almost see.  I keep myself as close to him as possible.  I love feeling his body close to mine.  Where our skin meets, our sweat mingles, our hearts beat in the same rhythm effortlessly.

At some point during the night I wake and I am facing him.  I wait for my eyes to adjust to the darkness.  The sound of the air conditioning is louder than I remember when I fell asleep and I am frustrated that it drowns out the sound of his breathing.  I touch his face, trace the line of his beard with my fingers.  I am careful to not wake him up because sleep doesn’t come easy to him.  I want to tho.  I have so many different fantasies about waking him.  Sexy ways to arouse him run through my brain and I’m smiling at my own thoughts.  But I don’t do any of them.  I don’t because one of my greatest pleasures is watching him sleep.

He struggles with sleep and it racks his days with blood sugar dip and spikes, and stress and grumpiness.   My desire to be sexy and play out any of my many fantasies that I never experience because we don’t live together must take a back seat to his sleep.  So, instead of a sexy fantasy of a midnight blow job being played out, I prop myself up on my pillow and watch him sleep.  Watch him breathe.  Watch him.

His face seems  relaxed, there is now wrinkled brow.  The darkness under his eyes is not visible in the night and his skin is even and clear.  His breathing is slow, steady, with an occasional larger breath in, and maybe a baby snore.  The smallest cutest snore ever.

I smile at his boyish figure.  Gone is the strong stature.  Gone is facade of happiness and calmness, coolness.  Gone is the need to be strong for everyone and keep his needs to himself.  In sleep, rare as it is for him, he finds peace.  He finds calm.  He finds rest.  The bad dreams are gone.  The worry of his future life is gone.  It is all gone.   In these brief moments, he is vulnerable.  He would hate it if while he was sleeping he could feel how vulnerable he was.  Perhaps that is why he wakes so often at night.

I openly and bravely continue to spy on him as he sleeps.  Eventually I close my eyes and join him in his vulnerability.  As I do, I commit everything I see to memory.  Each line, each shadow, each curve of his body will be embossed to my mind so on those horrible long and lonely nights, I can recall them.   If I  only recall a small part of the peace I feel in this moment, perhaps it will help me rest in those moments when my sleep is wiped away by the need for him.

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Long Distance

At the suggestion of @Loving BDSM I read a piece written by Molly Moore where she described how she and her Dom handled their long distance relationship until they could be together full-time.  Two things happened to me while I was listening to the podcast, and reading Molly Moore’s blog.

First, I had never considered my situation as long distance.  My Daddy lives 10 minutes from me and we work at the same location, so we are usually close in proximity.  Having said that, we rarely see each other because of our situation.  Lives are busy, work is busy, his primary is needy, his new house needs attention, his family needs him, my family needs me… the typical stuff of most people, it is what it is.  But it is hard to find any form of balance.  Listening and reading yesterday I decided that long distance is exactly what we have.  Giving it a name other than “A struggle” or “fucking annoying” has given me a lot of peace and calm in a way that I needed, more so than I realized.  There is still the knowledge that he is close and we should be together based on that, but calling it long distance and relating it to those boundaries helps me be less anxious about it.

Secondly, it gave me ideas.  Before listening and reading yesterday, Daddy and I discussed him watching me when I am home alone.  I have inside security cameras to make sure the dog walker treats my fur baby appropriately.  It seemed a great idea and I was excited to set it up.  Unfortunately, the security cameras, while clear and the video is good, the live streaming was not working.  I called the support team for the company and they have been unable to figure out the issue.  So the idea dropped.  It was mentioned that I would get better cameras but that is more money and I was frustrated that I couldn’t get it to work.  However, the idea of Skype or other means had never occurred to me.  Trust, I am on a new quest to figure this out.

Having a venue to share ideas and figure out the issues and obstacles has been a huge help for me and a bit of a rescue.  I love @LovingBDSM, and love learning about more folks through them and expanding my support base (which was at zero prior to starting to listening to @LovingBDSM, no support for this part of my life exist close to home).  So, thank you @LovingBDSM, from a cricket, and to Molly Moore for sharing something so beautiful and giving me a path to manage my lonliness.

Now, off to figure out a good source of voyeurism!

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Lipstick message

I was in the bathroom preparing for bed and thought it would be cute to leave Daddy a note on the mirror in my lipstick.  I rarely wear lipstick and when I do it is a light natural pink.  I was filled with giddy joy as I drew a heart and wrote “forever your Toy” inside of it.  I finished preparing for bed and left the bathroom.  Daddy went in to take care of his bedtime prep.  Daddy called me into the bathroom with a casual summons.  I walked into the bathroom and he caressed my arm and then suddenly grabbed my hair and forced my face close to the mirror.  “Lick it off!”  I did as told but was instantly sad and horrified that I had angered him.  In addition, if you have ever tried to lick lipstick off a mirror you know that it is no easy task.  So I was also upset that I was unable to do as I was told to correct my error.

I didn’t understand why he was mad.  It showed in my face.  I lowered my eyes and wouldn’t look at him.  He knows this face.  He knows how I hate to disappoint him.  I was trying to do something cute and fun and he didn’t have the same opinion.  He asked why I was sad and I explained that I just wanted to do something cute and I was sorry I angered him.  He replied that It felt like me trying to take ownership.  Marking my place.  I knew he was talking about the fact that not all of his relationships know about me and that if  he had missed it, it could have been seen by someone else.  I instantly understood his perspective and I knew it would have caused problems for him.  Once I explained my perspective, he admitted it was cute, but it was not appropriate.

I like leaving notes and reminders that he is loved and missed.  I don’t get those opportunities often, but when I do I like to take advantage of it.  While it was a correction and lesson for me to learn, there was something hot about being pushed into the mirror to lick off my message. (One of the mysteries of BDSM for me, separating pleasure pain and punishment pain).   I am not punished often.  Partially because I am cautious to always be the best I can be for him.  I don’t want to upset him or add stress to him.  Clearly, I am still learning.  But I am a quick learner.  That was the first and the last lipstick message.

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Intimacy in a D/s relationship

Spending some time listening (and watching!) @LovingBDSM yesterday at work.  (Headphones are a beautiful thing).  These two wonderful people never disappoint!  They always seem to hit on my feelings and manage to make me feel less crazy.  Or, make me feel my crazy is ok.

My situation is unique.  Maybe.  It can be tough at times.  I struggle daily to know and find my place.  The D in my D/s is my best friend.  We started as co-workers, than friends, then best friends, then came the benefits, and then came the BDSM and his role as my Dom.  I started calling him Sir, and now he is my Daddy.  It is an ever evolving journey complicated by other relationships, different stages in life, and falling in love.  The web we have weaved is fraught with complications and twist and turns and I am aware that it tears me up more than him.  I’m the worrier.  He is the one that tells me not to worry.

I miss everything about him every second we aren’t together.  There are a lot of seconds that we aren’t together.  I miss all of it.  He has other relationships.  I do not.  He has told me I can, but I have found that I can’t.  I’ve tried twice and with two men that didn’t deserve the breakdown and rejection because to me it felt like I was cheating on Daddy.

I miss spending time with him.  I miss being with him, being able to help relieve his stress and being able to serve him.  I miss his laugh, his touch, his friendship, his cock.  I miss all of it.  When I tell him I miss him, I mean I miss all of him.  We make love and we fuck.  We hang out as friends, and we exist together at work.  But we don’t get a lot of alone time.  We make the best of what we have.

When we are alone, I am mega focused on him fucking me.  I want it all.  I want the crop, the belt, the paddle, the clamps and the collar that I rarely get to wear.  I miss fucking and I miss making love to him.  I miss him caressing my hair, rubbing my back, fixing me a drink and pulling me into his lap so I can rest and feel his touch.

I often feel bad that I am sad when I leave and we haven’t had sex because I rarely have sex.  I only have sex with him.  He has sex with me and others, so maybe it isn’t as much of an urgency for him.  Having said that, I miss the cuddling.  I miss the conversations without him checking his phone and texting his primary.  I miss just being with him.  Talking about our views and perspectives on various things world-wide and personal.  The intimacy is so important because we have always had it.  We have always connected in that way.  The sex came much later.

Intimacy in my D/s relationship is a type of bonding that I have never felt in any other relationship.  While I miss the sex and the scenes so much it hurts, I am beginning to realize that I long for the intimacy a little bit more.  The intimacy makes the BDSM more intense.  It allows me to trust him more.  The BDSM allows me to let go and be myself and enjoy the sexual part of me I repressed for years.  They work in tandem with each other.

I go home alone.  I live alone.  I am alone.  So intimacy is non-existent unless it comes from him.  Those few moments when it feels like a real relationship, one I long for every second of every day are precious.  Those close intimate moments where there are no expectations except openness and honesty.  There is a thrill when he puts down the phone and pulls me to him.  When the phone rings and he doesn’t answer it.  When he turns off the TV and our conversations are surrounded by silence, just us, just our voices.  When he touches me, rubs my leg, gently pulls my hair into a pony tail held by his fingers.

Life gets busy in most relationships.  We juggle so many things.  Work, his other relationships, his need for his alone time and my need for time with him.  Family emergencies and just being damn tired from the day.  His struggle is finding time for me and my struggle is waiting for time with him.

I can have an orgasm anytime I want.  They come mechanically and easily.  A favorite toy, a decent porn video and I’m good to go.  I can even, when feeling creative, use my own crop on myself to get that feeling that I crave.  There is no substitution for intimacy.  There is no vibrator or dildo that will cuddle on the couch and give you that feeling that someone just enjoys holding you.

Intimacy.  It matters.

 

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It Was Just A Dream

I woke in a pool of my own sweat.  It took seconds to clear the fog in my head and make sense of what happened during my sleep.  I tried to convince myself it was the best wet dream of my life, but it wasn’t.  It was the worst nightmare ever.

The dream slowly came back to my conscious mind in a slow wave.  The memories forced themselves through the fog.   With each image becoming clearer, I realized I was crying.  Tears.   Real tears.  Streaming in tandem down my cheeks and onto the sheets of my bed.  I realize I am sobbing uncontrollably.  I tell myself it was just a dream.

I spent the day trying to shake the images from mind.  I told myself it would never happen in real life.  Never.  The entire day was spent in sadness and worry.  How could he have done this to me.  What reason would he have?  I found no answers.  Then it happened.

The text for me to come over.  The hour spent watching TV and making comments about the happenings of the world.  The walk up the stairs, the order to remove my clothing.  The instant and natural way we fall into the same position that feels like second skin as we wrap our limbs around each other and touch every part our bodies together as closely as possible.  His hands on my body.  His beard lightly scratching my neck.  His voice whispering, he missed my tits.  His breath as he falls softly to sleep.  His gentle way of waking me by a soft squeeze of those missed tits and his hand searching for the warmth and wetness  between my legs.  How he rubs and pulls and holds me close as I writhe in his arms.  How he leads my mouth to his cock and allows me to make him hard with my tongue.  How we fall back into our cuddle position and wrap each other up and drift again to gentle sleep.  Unlike the sleep I had the night before.

Yes, it was just a dream.

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It is Beautiful Feeling Useful

There has always been a part of me that absolutely falls apart when I can’t help someone I love solve a problem or get through a rough time.  Empathetic?  That’s an understatement.  I have learned to control it outside my inner circle, however, when the inner circle is struggling, so does my soul.

It isn’t a D/s thing completely.  I am like this with everyone.  The feeling of hurt, helplessness to solve the problem, wanting to take over and make it better is universal in all areas of my life, kink or not.  When Daddy is struggling, it is multiplied to degrees I didn’t know possible.

The struggle is real in the realm that I feel bad that our time is limited to next to nothing.  So I am sad and worried about that.  I miss the time, the talks, the love-making, the play.  I miss all of it.  But when he is struggling (going on two months now) my heart aches in ways that I haven’t found the words to describe.

To be of service as his Toy is my main goal.  When things are really bad and we don’t have the time, my service, while still wanted and much-needed, is a secondary role.  I hate this part or our relationship.  I hate that it is part-time, and fit in when we can with no guarantee of a next time.   While I see a million things I can do and ways I can serve him, I am not afforded the opportunity.  But this is where my priority lies right now.  As secondary to the primary while he figures things out.  I have accepted it, but it doesn’t make it easy.  It is the hardest thing I have done in relation to being able to support someone.

I don’t have much to offer Daddy in the goals he has right now.  I know he is focused on moving his life forward with things he is feeling time pressured to work out.  These things currently do not involve me for various reasons.  Knowing this has been a struggle but through the years I have told myself to not focus on what I can not give, but to focus on what I can give that others can not, or will not.  That has helped me through a lot of struggling times.  I will offer what I can.  What I am good at.

To be a little arrogant, ok, a lot arrogant, I am good at taking care of Daddy.  He doesn’t always let me and I’m still trying to determine why that is, but when he does, I do a very good job.  Doing the dishes at his house, helping with laundry, helping him wash the car and motorcycle (being trusted with the motorcycle), making dinner with him, and the list could go on.  All of these are physical things.  I hope that helping with them will give him time to focus where he needs to.  I actually don’t consider it D/s, it’s just part of who I am and what I do in a relationship.  So, when I can’t, it is a struggle and makes me feel like I am not holding up my end in the relationship.

I may not be able to offer the huge things that have his focus and attention at the moment, but I can provide other things that his primary struggles with.  I have determined to try and not make it a compeitition of who gives more, but a balance of who gives what, when, as it best serves all of us, but in particular, Daddy.  This is not easy.  Focusing on my “secondary” status has the benefit of reminding me of my place and role.  That focus also has the negative impact of reminding me of my place and role.  It is a double edged sword.

Knowing my place and accepting it lifts the bourden of always wondering where I fit in his life.  As he ebbs and flows, reminding myself that secondary doesn’t mean “less than” has become an important.  His actions may at times have me feeling less important, less needed, less wanted, less desired.  The situation may at times have me feeling that secondary does mean “not as important as the primary”.  The words swirl in my head and perhaps that is where the feeling of being less than comes from.  Not Daddy’s actions, but my perception of them.  While I strongly believe I can not always control how I feel, and there are times, that the fetal position drowning in tears seems to be the only answer, it is how I respond to those feelings that matters.  Telling Daddy how I feel is crucial.  How he handles that knowledge is on him.  He must have the knowledge in order to help me feel better or differently about anything, let alone how I feel about the lack of time with him.

Something as simple as giving him a foot rub and watching his face as he starts to relax, even while holding the phone, gives me great pleasure.  Anything that may bring some kind of release to his stress and pain, and allow him to have a clear mind for even a second.  If I am capable of that then I can feel less useless.  Last night, I felt a little less useless.

I hope he understands that it is the smallest of things that make me happy.  While I miss, complain, and hint at the lack of play and intimacy, and fucking him, and how it impacts me, I want him to know that it truly isn’t solely about that.  It is about the time with him.  The relationship we have.  The multifaceted, complicated, glorious, mind blowing, never before experienced or imagined relationship we have.  Friends, lovers, confidants, sibling like, D/s, all encompassed, fucking amazing relationship. The relationship we show people, and the one we keep to ourselves.

Yes, rubbing his feet made me feel useful.  It made me feel like I am helpful and while I wanted more, I always want more because our time is so limited, it was beautiful being able to touch him and help him relax.  It is beautiful feeling useful.

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He completes me

It’s been a very rough and long month for both of us.  While he has been struggling with his primary trying to settle things, I have felt neglected and lonely.  No communication is the worst thing for me.  Realizing we can’t touch has been a learned skill, but like most things you don’t like to accept, it is what I must do.  Totally disconnected from Daddy has me filled with doubt and insecurities.  It’s been a month, maybe more since we have had anytime.  Our usual alone time has been corrupted.  Is it worse to have the expected taken away then have nothing to look forward to?  I am still working on that one.

Last night I was expecting a half hour, maybe 45 minutes of his time.  We caught up with each other in a haphazard disorganized manner.  We were polite to each other.  It felt more like old friends catching up having bumped into each other at the grocery.  He looked tired.  Exhausted.  He wore an orange bandana to hold back his hair, white T shirt, shorts, and the socks I love.  (Yes, I know, it’s socks, but this man makes everything sexy). We talked about his struggles with the primary and how things have been.  I let him know what I have done to try and help.  She had told him nothing of my actions.  He thanks me, but I see in his face he doesn’t hold hope that it will help.

I am about to leave.  Standing at the door, leaning up against the wall.  I find courage to vent to him about how I have been feeling.  I hold back because I know my place, but also because I see the struggle in his.  It breaks my heart to see him feeling this way. In the middle of my rant he steps towards me, grabs my pony tail and pulls me upstairs to the bedroom.  It was dark, I was tripping and stumbling trying to manage the heels and the stairs.  Then it starts.  He instructs.  I respond.  After I undress, I go to my knees.  We spend the next hour in multiple forms of release.  I land in his arms and a month of sadness, worry, insecurites, fear, and the unknown leave my body.  I break into tears.  “I’m sorry Baby, was that too much for you?”  He asks.

“No Daddy, it was perfect.  This is the first time I have felt complete in a month.”

This man has no concept of his ability to munipulate me.  My body, my mind, my soul, all become his to mold as he wishes.  Yes, he makes me sad and doubt myself when he ebbs… but when he flows, toward me, he makes me feel like the only woman in the world.  He makes me feel like the only woman in his world.

I spent the night but I didn’t sleep.  I felt his body relax as he held me.  His beard on my face, his breathing, his quiet little snore, his heart beat.  If I slept I was afraid I would miss something.  If I slept I wouldn’t be able to remember every time he moved, every time he pulled me closer to him, every time he cupped my breast in his hand, every time he wispered, “I love holding you.”  It was hot, we were sweaty, even with the air conditioner blowing cold air over us our body heat was combined to make our skin slippery.  I didn’t care.  I would drown in our sweat before pulling away from him and miss an oportunity to be in his arms for even a second.

I am his.  I will always be his.  This beautiful man completes me.

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Chapters

How many chapters is a good amount for a book?  Tewnty?  Thirty?   I guess it’s based on the information or story you are trying to tell .  Then how many chapters in a lifetime is a good amount?

I break my life down in chapters . When something ends I always say it is the end of a chapter to prepare myself for the next . My life has many chapters so far and I am about to start another one . Some of the chapters blend smoothly into the next . Some have abrupt ends and startling beginnings.

No matter the reason the change and shift to the next chapter fills me with anxiety and worry . This chapter is no different.   I wish I could be excited.  I wish I could look forward positively and with hope and enthusiasium.  I fear the newness as an unsure change.

So I “cowgirl up” and all the plans I had will wait.   All the hopes I had will fade.  I will keep my mask on and move through the day as the positive person the world thinks I am.  And the fear will stay behind the mask . Until I am alone.

On to the next chapter!

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When my hurt speaks for me

I am the master at keeping things to myself.  People hurt my feelings on a daily.  Being sensitive is a difficult thing.  Being a people pleaser and always making sure that everyone else is ok, on top of being sensitive is a disaster waiting to happen.  It feels more like a curse then the anything else.

Keeping feelings locked up inside is my super power.  The kryptonite to my super power is that sooner or later, the feelings explode.  Always at the wrong time.  Always the wrong way.  They just combust and the control is gone.

Last week I learned some devastating news.  I wasn’t hurt physically, but emotionally I was crushed.  I held onto it mostly because it was knowledge learned through confidence and I didn’t feel I could act on it.  So I held it in.  For four days I cried, and processed and had imaginary conversations in my head on the best way to handle it.  My brain said, let it go, it doesn’t concern you directly and it shouldn’t impact your situation.  My heart however was broken.  It was a familiar pain and one that I hadn’t learned to handle the last time.  It brought back feelings of not being enough.  Good enough.  Available enough.  Loving enough.  Sexy enough.  Pretty enough.  Strong enough.  Not being enough.  My insecurities roared like an angry bear and there was nothing I could do.

It festers like a sore in a well used part of the body.   My attempt to ignore it came seeping through almost unditected.  Snarky comments.  Passive aggresive responses.  Then I was called out on it.  Direct and to the point.  At that moment I lost control and unleashed four days of heart break and sadness and insecurities.  It was directed at the right person but the approach was all wrong.  Instead of possibly getting the answers I wanted, or maybe even the apology I may have deserved I was met with silence.  And the silence continues.

Knowing I handled it badly makes its worse.  It could have been a conversation had I just been patient.  Insecurity is an evil feeling.  It comes from places we don’t expect sometimes but it also comes from those familiar places that are devastating.  It makes us act and respond the opposite of how we want or intend.  It makes us crazy.

I’m sorry Daddy.  I’m still trying to learn how to communicate when I’m hurt and broken and need your help dealing with your decisions.  I want to be stronger.  I want to be more confident.  I want to trust I will always be your Toy.  My insecurities are stronger than I am.  I am working on it.

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I want to be reckless

 

The older we get the more cautious we get.  Well most of us anyway.  When you have suffered loss of parents, family, friends to illness, drugs and random acts of violence, you learn quickly what matters in life.  It also makes you careful.  Sometimes I don’t want to be careful.  Sometimes I want to be reckless!

Reckless.  I just love the word.  It describes itself beautifully.  Reckless abandon!  Even better.  Sometimes my older self wishes she could just wake up, tell people what I am thinking without worrying about hurting their feelings.  Fuck who I want without worrying about who gets hurt or if it is moral and ethical to do so. Tell someone they are being too sensitive without worrying about hurting their feelings.  Tell someone what I need and demand they pay attention to me, without worrying about stressing the other person out.

Reckless.  I don’t want to be reckless like driving down the highway in the wrong direction.  Sometimes I want to be reckless for the benefits it may bring me, and not worry about the impact it has on others.

Sometimes, I just want to be reckless.

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One more time…

Heroin is the Devil in chemical form.  The most evil of all devils.  There is no mercy, no respite, no relief.  Whether you believe the addict deserves this torment for the choices they made is on you.  I won’t debate it with anyone that hasn’t lived through it in some fashion.  I have held friends as they buried their children.  Held children as they buried a parent.  Heroin is not discriminatory.  Any race, culture, age, sex, any human will do just fine.  It drags humans down a path of allure with its calming, numbing results.  But the residue never leaves your soul.  “I won’t get hooked on just one time, I just want to try it,” said almost every addict living, or most likely dead.  So people can judge, they just need to make sure they are prepared when their child’s best friend’s soccer mom OD’s from heroin because the doctor stopped prescribing her pain killers from her tummy tuck, so she hit up the corner dealer because heroin is cheaper.  Monetarily anyway.

My kid.  Just curious.  One time and done? Yeah right.  Two years, and eight months of a two hundred dollar a day addiction.  Till she told me.  Then the fight really began.  For her life.  For my life.  She is my heart.  I wasn’t about to let some silly white powder cooked and sucked into a syringe, slowly inserted into her veins take her from me.  Fuck you heroin!  You aren’t stronger than a mothers love.  You haven’t fought me for my daughter’s life.  This country red neck girl may look refined and put together but if I take these heels and earrings off, you better run, far and fast.  Throw at me what you will.  Knock me down and I will get back up because you aren’t taking my daughter.  Not while I can still breathe.

The fight of my life.  The fight of her life.  We won.  We won the battle at least.  The war rages eternal for my baby girl.  Every crisis we both freeze.  Will this be the thing that pushes her to it again.  There have been things.  There have been relapses.  Even after a year of being clean, heroin seeps into your brain like a vapor of gas.  Unseen.  Unheard.  Felt?  Yes, with every fiber of her being.  She feels everything now.  That’s the kicker.  Heroin is smart.  It calls to them and says, “You’re hurting?  I can fix that.  You’re scared?  I’ll be brave for you.  You’re angry?  I’ll help you cope. C’mon, just one more time…”  Every day heroin whispers to her.  Some days are better than others.  Those are the days we cherish.

Side effects and collateral damage? Holy fuck!  Beyond your earthly imagination.  The list is endless.  The worst of all is the thought that she has in her mind.  This constant nagging thought.  Every second of every day.  Not necessarily that numbness that heroin provides, while that is also always there.  It is that subliminal message that never fades away.  “You aren’t good enough.  You fucked up yourself, your family, your life.  You can’t do anything right.  You’ll never survive with out me. You are useless.  You had everything and because you can’t live without me, you threw it all away with a needle and a spoon.  I own you.  I will always own you.  In your weakest and darkest moments I will be there like an old friend.  Offering support in the form of white powder.  Just this once.  You’ve kicked me before you can do again, just one more time, for old time sake…” 

Heroin.  The chemical form of the Devil himself.  Like an abusive lover. “I’ll beat you down so I can build you up and then I’ll beat you down again, further each time.  Each climb back to be a human will be more difficult then the last.  Each time, you will want me to hit you harder and harder.  You will beg me to leave no marks because then everyone will know.  Find a place no one can see.  You will walk around as if everything is fine and you will wear the mask I made for you.  You will smile.  You will show up at family gatherings and holidays.  You will learn to time our sessions together so you can perform as a human when you are in public.  But you aren’t human.  You’re a fucking addict.  You are addicted to me.  I own you.  I own you now and I always will.” 

Fuck you heroin.  Mama’s watching.  Every syllable of every word you throw at my kid, I have a rebuttal.  She isn’t useless.  She isn’t worthless.  She is amazing!  She is strong! She is powerful!  She kicked your ass, not once but twice.  No matter how many times you come at her she will see you coming.  She will tell me.  We will prepare for battle.  We will win.  You aren’t going to take her.  She is all I have.  She has value and she has so much to offer this world.  Keep throwing those people at her that take up your cause.  Those lovers that abuse her and threaten her.  I know it is you.  You send them into her life to help you break her down while you are working on some other poor human who is at the breaking point.  She sees these people you put in front of her and yes, it is familiar to her.  She feels you, and it is enticing.  That one lover that knocked her down to build her back up, again and again, and again.  Just like you did.  That same lover that told her she didn’t need to tell me everything, it would be taken care of.  Just like you did.  That same lover that offered alcohol as a substitute so she could take the edge off.  Just like you did.  You don’t fight fair.  Neither do we.  We kicked your ass, and we kicked that lovers ass.  My kid is safe again.  One more time we fought.  One more time we won.

So go ahead heroin.  Bring it.  I am tired.  I am fucking exhausted.  I don’t sleep and I don’t eat.  I don’t breathe until I hear from her each and every fucking day.  But that’s OK.  You keep up your bullshit.  We see you.  We feel you.  We have won battles and we will continue to face you on any battle field you pick.  These battles one at time, this war is ours to win.  No matter how many times you come at us, we see you.  You can change form all you want.  We will still see you coming.  She and I turn to each other, lock arms and face you.  One more time.

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Chapter 12

I wait all day and night for communication.  A text, a call, something.  We use to talk every morning and for some reason that stopped.  You say you miss me and want me near and I want to believe that.  I see you are busy and stressed and hectic, and I want to respect that.  I distance myself to give you time.  I don’t pester you or complain or throw tantrums.  I wait.  I let you know I miss you and want you.  I try to flirt and do the things I know you like.  I am willing and waiting for you when ever you want or need me.  My only hope is that you miss me half as much as I miss you.

Logically, I know that your desires for others doesn’t mean that I am not enough.  Logically.  Emotionally, this is difficult.  I offer all I can.  Love, friendship, sex, submission, flirting, service, anything I can think of.  But it isn’t enough.

From one, you will get your house, and children.  The life you have wanted and dreamed of.  From me, you get the sex and service, and love and admiration you say you don’t get from the other.  The two together should seem enough.  Almost perfect. You win in all areas.  You have your family, a Toy to train, and two women that actually care and respect you.

But you go back to the one that almost ruined you.  Almost ruined your dreams and chance for children.  It took months to get her to go away.  She was devious and manipulative.  She threw hate at you every chance she got.  She tried to guilt you into being with her.  She trashed your name to co-workers.  She attacked your manhood by saying you didn’t have the spine to tell your girlfriend you wanted a relationship with someone new.  She told people she faked her orgasms and you weren’t that good in bed but with practice you’d get better.  She left evidence of your time together to be found to ruin your current relationship on purpose.  She threatened you, threaten to expose everything you had done with her.  More than your cover story.  Yet, she is the one getting your phone calls, your attention, your flirtations, your time.  All the while I thought the time you couldn’t spend with me, talk to me, text with me,  was because you were stressed with work.  But today I learn you have found time to text and give attention to someone who doesn’t respect you.  Is it that you know I’ll always be here so you feel comfortable ignoring me for others that treat you badly?  That disrespect you? Could part of my submissive training be that I constantly give of my time and service and only when you have no other distractions am I used?  A serious question from a new submissive.  Just last week, I lay in your arms explaining how I felt, the loneliness and neglect.  Laying naked in your arms, speaking of how I have needed to be a service, you still didn’t use me. Hockey was a preferred attraction.  Am I suppose to feel wanted and desired?  You say the primary doesn’t flirt with you or make you feel sexy and wanted.  Isn’t that how you are treating me?  So many questions.

As much as you say your distractions do not mean that I am not enough, it is hard to believe.  You do this,  then expect the women who are true to you to not interpret it as we are not enough for you.  That we do not satisfy you.   We may satisfy you for the moment, but we don’t have sustaining power, do we?  The next time you wonder why women are so insecure, think back to this moment.  This is why.  You are why.

I listen through tears, while fighting my own, as your primary explains the pain from the revelation of the most recent turn of events.  I struggle to know what to say or how to feel.  I share a lot of her emotions and have a few of my own that she could never understand.  Her insecurities are my own.  I add her relationship with you to my own insecurities.  The difference, I have no one to talk to about how I feel.  On top of that, I have to mask my pain, and find supporting words that won’t hurt you.  This isn’t about me.  But it never is, is it?  I sit and console some, I defend you to others as they talk about what a heathen you are.  I listen quietly as others tell me of their past, present and possible future with you.  I can say nothing about how it impacts me.  I can only listen.

I don’t understand.  I’ll never understand.  This unwelcome pain is familiar.  Once again I am left to handle this on my own.  Trying to process why I am not enough for you.  Trying to process what it is that I am missing that you need.

But it isn’t just about me and how I’m feeling.  It is my worry for you.  Why are you searching for things that are right in front of you?  Why don’t you see that there are two people ready and willing, for the most part, to try to create and give you the life you seem to want?  You could have had, and could have now, the perfect threesome and the start of your family.  Is it that you don’t really want the three of us?  Is it that you aren’t sure you want children and being so close to getting them is terrifying to you?  Why can you not communicate when you start to feel boxed in and feel the need to branch out or reach back to the past to the people who have hurt you the most?   Why, when you get close to your dreams do you recoil like a snake afraid to strike?

I wonder if you will even tell me about it.  Right now, I can say I won’t bring it up, but who knows going forward how I will feel.  As your friend, I want to yell at you and tell you what a fool you are being.  How you are so close to everything you have ever wanted and you are about to mess it up.  As your Toy, I want to kneel at your feet and cry silent tears, hoping you I am important enough to you that you will find away to assure me that you aren’t going away.  That you can assure me while I know I am not enough, I am still something that you will always need and want.

The feelings I had before today of want and loneliness are now joined by fear and sadness.  Disappointment and disbelief.  The familiar pain of a broken heart, yet another piece sacrificed to you, willingly but with the devastation of million heart breaks.  I am not even sure where most of the pain lies in me right now, knowing you did this again, or the awareness that I wasn’t surprised.

 

(excerpts from “The Late In Life Toy”)

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Happiness

All my life people talk about what makes you happy.  The question comes often.  When going through a hard time, or just going through life day-to-day, status quo, but feeling like something was missing, people would ask, “What makes you happy?  Do what makes you happy?”  That’s great if you know what that is.

Happiness is elusive.  It is fluid.  What makes you happy one day may not be what makes you happy the next day, week or year.  Dreams change, goals change, priorities change.  That is the difficult part.  I have found through my years that I tend to get what I think makes me happy and that is fine for a bit, then I get restless.  Bored or maybe I realize I am too comfortable.  I see other people and what they have and wonder if that would work for me.  Not in a jealous kind of way, just a curiosity about different things.

What we think we want and what we really want aren’t always the same.  The challenge is determine the difference.  This challenge is universal.  Few can figure it out and conquer it.  It is one of life’s mystery.

For me, I have blazed a lot of trails.  Some I followed to the end, some I jumped to a different path in mid stream.  Or jumped over the stream to get to the path that looked interesting.  On this blazed trail, I have left broken promises and broken hearts.  I have wounded souls, shattered trust, and lost some of the most valuable things in my life.  None of the carnage was intentional.  I don’t consider myself to be selfish, or even self-serving.  I still struggle to determine what I actually consider happiness.  I would think at this point in my life I should know.

I’ve been through a lot in my life that has been hard.  A devastating house fire in my early high school years where everything was lost.  It wasn’t the material loss, it was the loss of my family as we knew it.  We were all safe, out of town at the time of the fire, but the impact it had on each family member was life changing.  A marriage that was what was expected of me.  He was a good man but there were things that rendered me “unhappy”.  The death of my father, exacerbated by alcohol and depression.   My first pregnancy ended in a late-term miscarriage.  My daughter was born a year later (best thing in my life) and when she was four, a divorce.  A brutal rape that almost killed me, physically and emotionally.  A relationship, finally giving me joy after years of sadness that offered the reality of one of my life long dreams, owning a farm.  Everything seemed perfect.  I was happy, I told myself.  Finally happy.  Then the relationship struggles of most, financial, employment, overwhelming things.  The death of my 17-year-old niece.  Then, the worst thing I could ever imagine, my daughters addiction to heroin.  Heroin is the devil in chemical form.  She and I worked hard to pull her through her two year addiction to become a clean and healthy woman.  But the damage was done.  The relationship that was already fragile, ended in pain and sorrow and regret.  Then the death of my second father, watching my mom go through being a widow again. Then the death of my second father, and watching my mom manage becoming a widow once again.

So I find myself alone with no one to lean on for the first time in my life since before the fire that changed my life at an early age.  The journey has been long and difficult to put it mildly.  Once again, people ask me what my passions are, what makes me happy.  I don’t know the answer to that question any more now then I did when I was asked before.  It is heartbreaking to have no idea.  It is devastating to have to force yourself to think of what makes you happy and try to determine what your passions are?  Is it what truly makes you happy if you have to think about it.  Is it truly a passion if you find yourself searching for it?

Passionless and sad seems a hard way to be.  Every morning you decide to have a positive attitude and make it a good day.  You don’t want to be sad and you fight the loneliness.  You put on your mask and go through the days, weeks and months.  You smile at work and join in conversations of weekend happenings and planned vacations.  You make plans with friends and never let on that you fight every minute of getting ready because you just want to stay home.  Home?  Is it a home?  Your alone.  Your daughter is out-of-town, and your mother is close but just lost her husband and needs support, not to know her daughter is struggling.  So you move along with your mask, just like the 15 year old girl who watched her family fall a part after the fire.  The difference is the 15 year old girl had a purpose.  Pull the family back together.  Work to get the house back together and hope the family comes back together as well.  The woman I am know has no purpose that supports others and saves others.  She only sees a lonely life with no one to cuddle on the couch with and no one to call to let them know she is running late.  No one to check and make sure the grill she put together by herself was assembled correctly and won’t blow up the first time she uses it.  No one to help her hang pictures, move furniture or clean up a flooded basement.

Happy?  Passions?  I guess the search continues.

 

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Forgive me Daddy

We are nearing the end of yet another chapter.  This one is hard.  They are all hard.  But we got further this time then we ever have before.  There is good and bad to everything.  Sometimes they are hard to separate.  I know this isn’t the end of us, but the one thing constant about us, is change.

You have lived with someone or alone on and off during our time together.   The first time you lived alone we had a little time together.  You were seeing others so it was not just about me.  I wish it had been.  You were pursuing others.  Some I knew about, some I knew more than others.  It was hard knowing I wasn’t your priority, even then.  There were times you lied, times you forgot me, but the times we were together were simply amazing.  I wouldn’t trade any of that time for anything in the world.

When you made time for me I moved heaven and earth to make it happen.  I remember one time you wanted to go camping but the one you were courting wasn’t a big fan.  I cleared my calendar, set up an alibi and reason to be gone for the weekend, and was going to surprise you by saying I would go camping at the beach with you.  On the day I was going to tell you, you beat me to the punch and told me the one you were courting had agreed to go with you.  There was no need for me.

Then you were living with someone again.  Our time decreased from the mere moments we had down to nothing except for moments as friends.  We are amazing friends and I wouldn’t trade our friendship for anything.  We have been everything from friends, friends with benefits, D/s, Sir and Toy, Daddy and Toy.  Always friends through all of it.

You have never failed me as a friend.  No matter what my thoughts are when we talk or the words on these pages, I have never doubted you were there for me as my friend.  My best friend. You have witnessed me at my worst.   I have seen some of your darkest times.   That will never change.

You’ve lived alone for a while now.  About a year.  We have had a lot of truly amazing times.  As friends and lovers, D/s, and whatever else was needed.  It hasn’t always been easy but we have made time for each other.

You will be moving in with her in September.  Probably sooner because I fear your going back and forth will grow old for you.  Your lease is up in September so that will be the dead line.  I expressed my fears about our alone time diminishing again.  You said we at least had the summer.  The summer is going by so fast.  I feel myself tripping over all of our missed opportunities.  I wonder if you see the opportunities.  It seems you don’t.  It seems you don’t think about spending time with me in those moments when it makes sense to me.  There is so much to do with the new house I fear you will spend the summer working on the house and before we know it you will move in without a thought to the lost time we could have had together.  It saddens me, it scares me.

The curled up times on the couch, the cuddling.  The conversations meant for just you and I.  They will go away.  You mentioned we would have to have those moments at my place.  That is a beautiful thought but I fear that won’t happen.  We will struggle to make time.  You will struggle to get a way.  It will be as it was before, again and again, there will be so little time.

I know you will try.  I know you want to be with me.  I just wish you wanted me as much as I want you.  That is my deepest wish.  That I was as intoxicating to you as you are to me.

So, as the summer ticks away I continue to count the opportunities that you don’t recognize and therefore miss.  Our mist opportunities grow in epic form and numerous marks on the calendar left blank with no time with each other.

Know that my heart is breaking.  I am sad most of the time.  I am sad until I am in your arms.  I am sad until I hear from you.  I mask it well with anyone other than you.   It isn’t your responsibility I suppose, and I know your life is busy with other things as you move forward with your life.  You always ask if I am angry.  I wish I could be.  I try to be  angry.  I yell at you when I am alone.  I pretend you can hear me.  I scream all the things I wish you could see.  I yell all the things I wish you knew I was feeling.  I cry and wish you knew the pain I was feeling.   It always turns to sadness.  The anger fades with your next phone call or our next hug and kiss.  Everything melts away.

Forgive my sadness, forgive my quiet withdrawal, forgive my passive aggressive demeanor with you.  You created a faithful Toy destined to serve you and keep you happy, satisfied.  You taught me well.  I remain faithful.

I will continue my attempt to suppress the sadness.  The feelings of neglect.  The fear.  The loneliness.  I will continue to try, but I fear this will be the first task, the first  time I will fail you.

Forgive me Daddy.

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I remember. He doesn’t.

I remember him telling me he had a horrible memory.   I remember telling him I remember everything.

I remember every time we made love.  He doesn’t.

I remember every time we hung out.  He doesn’t.

I remember every time he said “I love you.”   He doesn’t.

I remember every time he was with someone else and was suppose to me with me.  He doesn’t.

I remember every time he forgot we had plans and did something with someone else.  He doesn’t.

I remember every weekend I didn’t hear from him, not even a good morning.  He doesn’t.

I remember every conversation we have had.  He doesn’t.

I remember every time he asked me if I was mad, and I said “no, I’m hurt.”  He doesn’t.

I remember telling him that Monday nights are special because it is the guarantee that I will have time, sitting close to him and touching him.   He doesn’t.

I remember crying myself to sleep due to the need for him.  He doesn’t.

I remember trying to fuck other men but couldn’t because he is all I want.  He doesn’t.

I remember him saying he would spend time at my place.  He doesn’t.

I remember buying duplicate things to have at my house.  He doesn’t.

I remember trying to rationalize and justify the silence and absence.  He doesn’t.

I remember telling him how I feel and he saying it would change.  He doesn’t.

I remember him saying he would call me in the mornings so we could catch up more often.  He doesn’t.

I remember I know he is busy and I am not a priority and that I am all alone and wishing I was with him.  He doesn’t.

I remember wishing I was more of a priority.  He doesn’t.

If he remembers, it doesn’t feel like he does.

I hate his memory.   It is the only thing about him I hate.

I hate my memory.  It is the only thing I can’t escape.

 

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Balancing act…

We had the most beautiful evening.  It started early.  We went to the living room to cuddle and catch up.  He told me to take off my clothes and lay next to him.  It was amazing.  I laid next to him naked in our cuddle position.  He started asking me questions about what I’ve been doing with my time.  We started this very casual conversation and before I knew it I was telling him everything.  I have been writing, I’m talking to someone but not thinking it will go anywhere, I miss you, I am trying to keep busy but it has been hard… the list went on.  Months of things I have wanted to say came spilling out and it was amazing.  He listened, he asked questions, he responded, sometimes with solutions and sometimes with just, “I know baby.”  I am not sure if I wanted him to respond any certain way as much as I needed him to hear what I was saying and feeling.

I love that when we have those moments I don’t feel like I have to yell and scream.  Sometimes I want to but I know he hears me better when I’m calm and honest about my emotions and how I am feeling.  The minute it looks like crazy town he shuts down.  I did tell him sometimes I thought if I were more crazy maybe he would pay more attention.  He laughed and let me know that was not a good idea.

There was something about the conversation that made me feel so much better.  I was honest about everything and it felt so good.  Not that I am not honest with him.  I never lie to him.  But I don’t always tell him how I am feeling because I don’t want to stress him out.  I don’t want to make things worse for him.  I have to admit tho, sometimes I want to scream and jump up and down.  It’s been months since we have talked like this.  He just seemed so open to it.  There were no distractions.  No phones, no distracting side conversations.  The TV was on but it was on low volume and he wasn’t really watching.  He was totally focused on me and that hadn’t happened in a very long time.

I found the courage to talk to him about how I address him.  I have always called him Sir.  Lately, (for a while) it has felt very formal to me.  His girlfriend calls him Daddy.  When we started spending time together I wasn’t sure about that.  I am a lot older than him.  17 years to be exact.  Calling him Daddy seemed strange to me.  So at the time, we decided and agreed I would call him Sir.  I can not pin point when I started feeling it was too formal but its been awhile.  Maybe it is because of the research I’ve been doing on labels and titles.  I don’t think so though.  I just wanted something that was more relational and less formal.  Awhile ago I brought it up in passing and I said I wasn’t sure I wanted to call him Daddy because his girlfriend uses that term for him.  We talked about other names for Daddy but nothing felt right and we dropped it.

So laying in his arms as I explained how I was feeling about it,  he squeezed me tightly and smiled and said, “now you are getting it”, and he asked me if I wanted to try to call him Daddy.  I said yes.

In some  ways this feels like a step forward although I am not sure why.  But it felt good.  It might take a while to get use to it and Sir may come out every now and then, but I won’t worry about that.  I’m just really glad we had a conversation about it.

We also talked about a contract.  While he didn’t say much, I said that a contract may help me with what his expectations are for me and what mine should be him.  Even just a simple one page statement on task I would do, or my schedule to try to keep me busy when he isn’t around.  I wasn’t sure what I wanted the contract to say and I just floated the idea.  It just felt good to be so open after months of keeping everything inside.

We cuddled for a while and talked and then went to get dinner.  We came back and ate and watch TV.  It got late and we both had to work so I had to leave.  As wonderful as the night was I was disappointed that we didn’t mess around.  I loved everything about the evening.  I am, however, always disappointed when he doesn’t fuck me.  We talked about that before we went to dinner as well.  I know his needs are met when I am not around.  I am not the only one he spends time with.  He is the only one I spend time with and the only one I am fucking.  With the limited time we have, I feel any opportunity we have should be taken advantage of.  I would have stayed longer but he was obviously tired.

I tried to keep my disappointment to myself.  I don’t think I did a very good job tho.  He will never understand how it feels to want someone so badly.  To only want one person to be with and not be able to have that person when you want and need them the most.  He tries to understand but he can’t.  I basically live like a nun until I am with him.  Missing the opportunity to be fucked by him is devastating.  I never know when the next time will be.

He invited me to hang with him and his girlfriend the next night.  Anytime with him is a plus and I enjoy being with them.  But he forgot he mentioned it and I haven’t heard from him this weekend.

I don’t think he will ever understand how it all feels.  I feel like a bitch complaining we didn’t mess around, especially after having such a wonderful night with time together.  I know it sounds selfish but the longing for him is unbearable at times.

It is just a very difficult balancing act.   One I am not very good at managing at all.

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To be forgotten

I’ve come a long way with a lot of my stuff.  Some days are harder than others.  There have been two times that he has forgotten we had plans.  I know the why.  He has always had a bad memory with some things.  He double books, he makes plans and then forgets he made them.  Most of these things would be going to something he really doesn’t want to do in the first place.  Large gatherings at a bar, or things that just aren’t his thing but he said he’d go with excitement and then when the time came he was too tired or something else came up that was more pressing.  Problem is, he wouldn’t contact and officially decline.  It is his way and something you accept if you are his friend.  I know this.  I understand this.  He has a lot of people pulling at him for his time, his help, his advice, his expertise.  His family is always calling for something.  I get it.

The first time he forgot we had plans, it was understandable.  He got tied up at work and then got him and got busy doing things and completely forgot he was supposed to call me.  I understood.  It still hurt, but I understood.

The second time he forgot we had plans, he went to his girlfriends house and hung out with her.  That one hurt.  I know my place but that doesn’t make it any better.  I wish he had called to say he couldn’t see me.

This time, it was a casual hang out with him and his girlfriend.  I knew he had a busy weekend and he was being nice by trying to see me Friday night if even for a brief time while they did things around the house.  I don’t mind helping with stuff.  I enjoy spending time with them.  But he didn’t call to give me a time or confirm or just say it wasn’t going to work.  I also haven’t heard from him today.

It is at times like this that I don’t know what to do.  Should I call and let him know I’m hurt?  Should I have called to remind him I was wanting to hang out? Should I have reached out today when I knew he was busy?  All questions I have asked myself after each time this has happened.

This isn’t just a sub thing.  It is an emotional thing that I am trying to wrap my head around.  I know he does this.  I didn’t really expect him to call about hanging out this weekend because of everything he had going on.  But I’m hurt.   I know its ego, but am I that easy to forget he made plans with?  I’d like to think he misses me and thinks about me, but if he forgets the opportunities he has to see me, that makes me feel like he doesn’t miss or think about me.  I know that simplifies it.  It is not simple, it is actually very complicated and I know that too.  But knowing the complications and what ever else may be happening, that doesn’t make it any easy to feel like I have been forgotten.

Just thoughts for the day/night.  Sorting as I’m typing.

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Life is like therapy…

“Life is like therapy, expensive and no guarantee.”  It may be a lyric from a Garth Brooks song, but the meaning is so true.  Life is expensive, not only in financial terms but in emotional terms.  I think about all the different cost I have paid in life from choices and circumstances that have not been monetary, but have been emotionally expensive.

I have heard or read somewhere that the average age we start retaining memories is three years old.  So I start going back through time to see when my very first memory is.  I’m sure we all do this, but can we really be sure of the chronological order of these memories?

I’ve been doing a lot of self accessing as I face this new chapter in life.  What makes me happy?  What are my passions?  What scares me?  What are my fears?  Going through my memory I have more sad than happy memories, but some of the sad memories I can see the lessons learned and the growth that came from them.  I can also see the emotional costs from both the happy and the sad.

Raised in the era of “what will the neighbors think” I have spent most of my life wondering just that.  Am I liked?  Am I respected?  Am I important?  Would I be missed?  Do they look down on me?  How am I being judged?  Is this outfit to risque? Should I have a beer or an alcoholic beverage?  If I do, will they assume I’m an alcoholic?  (Methodist guilt).  I wondered and still wonder about these things from others perspectives.  Until recently I never asked my self these questions about me.  That is harder to do.  I would rather ask others because then the responsibility is on them to answer me and justify their answers.  If I ask myself these questions, the responsibility becomes mine.  What is more scary, is admitting that I don’t know the answers to these questions.

Emotional cost are many.  I’ve had a lot of loss in my life.  I can go to these losses and see and feel the impact they had on me and also how they have changed me.  I wonder what kind of person I would be if those things had not happened.  Would I be happier?  Would I be more angry? Would I be more liked?  Would I like and love differently?

Sometimes, emotional cost are far more expensive then the monetary ones.

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Ropes

She laid on the table.  It was lightly padded covered in black vinyl.  The legs were a cold metal, silver in color.  It reminded her of the tables in her college sick room where she could lay down when her period was too strong or her stomach was upset.  The table in this room was like that.  She moved slightly to try to find comfort.  The metal legs of the table scrapped slightly across the tile making a squeaking noise.  The noise seemed louder than expected in this large room with nothing but the table she was laying on.

As she laid on the table, waiting, she felt a chill run through her.  The source of the chill was from the coldness in the room but not the temperature of it.  The walls were grey, all four painted the same shade.  They were barren of pictures or windows.  All four the same except for the one that had the door that lead to the hallway she entered an hour ago.  The door was metal, again reminding her of the health room from college.  At some point its original color was  grey.  The streaks of grey struggled to show through and be seen.  This side of the door was painted black without concern of consistent strokes.  She could see where the paint had bubbled and run down to the floor.   There was a  small window, too high to provide any insight to what was happening on the other side, covered with wrinkled black construction paper.  The paper was spotted with water marks and stains.  The corners tattered and ripped.  Remnants of tape where the paper had fallen and been replaced sloppily.  Her eyes followed one of the bubbled runs of black paint to the floor.  Square tiles, larger than most she had seen, like the pavers in her grandmothers garden that she use to play hop scotch on.  They were dirty.  She could barely tell the true color.  Like everything else in the room, it just looked grey.

She turned her focus to her body.  The chill in the room was obvious, but she realized she was sweating.  Her naked back was sticking to the thin vinyl pad on the table.  She shut her eyes as she moved slowly as to not make the squeaky noise from the table legs again.  She tried to arch her back to allow air to pass through and chill her skin.  She couldn’t arch her back high enough to pull her skin from the table.  She tried a second time but the only result was another squeak from the table legs.

She opened her eyes and looked up at the light.  The only thing in the room that didn’t appear grey.  The light was dim but in contrast to the room and its placement above her head the small narrow beam struck her eyes and forced them shut.

She laid there with her eyes shut and became aware of how her body was feeling.  There was an aching and a stingy feeling that was alternating its annoyance.  It wasn’t painful, that would come later she told herself.  This was just an awareness of something that wasn’t her normal bodily reaction.  She focused on the sting.  The source was obvious but the sting was unexpected.  But then, she didn’t know what to expect.  She knew it was from the ropes.  She carefully opened her eyes to just a slit to protect them from the dim stream of light that had assaulted them before.  The ropes were light in color.  Not white, cream or beige, she couldn’t tell.  Through her barely opened eyes and the dim light beam she could see the rope was frayed.  Little tiny splinters of string.  Millions of them.  So perfecting aligned and sticking straight out about 1/4 of an inch all the way around each strand of rope that wrapped her arms and legs.  The ropes were woven through her legs and arms and looped around her wrist and ankles.  They weren’t as tight as she thought they might me.  Tight enough to make her aware but there was still circulation.  Her hands and feet could move freely.  They weren’t changing colors from the blood flow being constricted.  She wondered if they would get tighter later.  Her hands and feet  oddly linked together.  She couldn’t raise her head to get a good look at the tangled strands of ropes and how the knots were tied.  Her knees were pulled toward her chest.  She couldn’t lower them.  She attempted to move them so she could see the knots but there wasn’t enough give in the loops that attached her arms and feet.  her legs were spread apart.  She expected that.  She was surprised at her curiosity about the rope.  The knots and how they were tied.  The loops and how they were woven between her hands and feet.  She wanted to see them.  To study them.  She had asked when they tied her to watch.  She was told no.  They had even placed a towel over her face.  They weren’t rough with her.  They asked her with every tug and pull if she was ok.  Had she expected kindness.  Everything she had imagined so far didn’t match the actual process and experience.

She stopped trying to investigate the knots and loops and settled on the table again.  She laid her head back.  She mentally went through the process that lead to her laying on the cold steel table.  She was excited.  She had dreamed of this for years.  All through college since meeting James.  They talked for hours about all the possibilities of intimate pleasures she had never dreamed of.  She was shocked by what he told her.  She hung on every word.  She never imagined anything he spoke of, but as he told her of his interests and experiences she realized how hot it made her.  She felt flushed when he would talk of his dominance.  She felt the wetness between her legs as he looked into her eyes to catch her reaction.  James left to attend college in Boston, but the desires and curiosities he had planted in her stayed with her.  She researched and read everything she could about these new experiences.  She wanted more.  She wanted her own experiences.

Two years later she finds herself here.  Waiting.  She signed the paper work and consent form.  She had her safe word and she instructed them of her limits.  She wanted to start slow, with bondage.  The sting of the ropes were more obvious now as her memory rolled through the stories that James had told her.

She laid on the table.  Bound and naked.  Legs spread wide.  She was already turned on form the thought of what was about to happen.  Her first time.  Steven, who she called Master would be in shortly.   They had met several times over the past few months.  They had numerous discussions about what she was interested in.  He explained everything that would happen.  She felt safe. She felt excited.  She laughed a soft quiet laugh aloud but barely audible.  She wasn’t scared she was anxious.  She had waited so long that she was beginning to think it would never happen.  She almost tired of the meetings and discussions and was getting frustrated.  She understood the why, but the longing for something new and different was strong.

Today was the day.  She heard the door open.  She didn’t turn her head toward the door to look at him.  She kept her face toward the dim light with her eyes closed.  Her senses were alert and every nerve ending was alive.

The wait was finally over.

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I wonder if he knows…

Monday, he took care of my puppy while I worked over time.  I arrived at his house at 9:20 and he had just gotten home from working on his new house with his girlfriend.  He was just eating dinner.  I felt guilty that the responsibility of watching my dog could have delayed his evening and his dinner.  We sat on the couch while he ate and watched the hockey game.  Neither of us are into sports but it was a good game and didn’t require much thought or concentration.  I was exhausted.  I knew I should have left to get home and get ready for the next day but that meant leaving him.  Saying nothing while he ate and watching mindless television was better than being home alone.  Any kind of time with him was better than any other option.

We had casual conversation while he finished eating.  When he was done he leaned back on the couch.  I was leaning against the back of the couch with my legs tucked underneath me.  I gave him a few minutes to settle and leaned toward him.  His arm went up and we fell into our normal cuddle position.  My head on his chest.  His arm around me gently brushing my skin with his knuckles as his fingers curled in and out, occasionally giving my arm or elbow a gentle squeeze.  He always offers a combination of gentle and strong.  He always knows what I need.

We cuddled for the remainder of the game.  It was late.  He needed sleep and I needed to get home.  He walked me to the door and opened his arms to pull me in.  I tucked my head to his chest and wrapped my arms around him and we stayed like that for a very long time, but not nearly enough time.

The feeling of dread and anxiety I get when I leave him is dependable.  The moment I realize I have to go my heart drops and my mood changes.  I become a little girl.  Fighting off the temper tantrum and break down that is right on the surface prickling every nerve ending and muscle of my body.  It is dependable.  It is reliable.  It is debilitating.

He gives me a final squeeze.  “You mentioned spending time this week, do you have a day in mind? I ask in a whisper.  It is daring and brave.  Not because I am not supposed to ask but because I am afraid of the length of time I will have to wait to be with him again.

“Thursday.  I am thinking Thursday will be good.  Is that OK with you? he asks as he looks down on me and I know he sees the mix of disappointment and fear leave me as hopeful excitement replaces it.

“Yes, I will keep that day free for you,” trying to keep the excitement from my voice and failing miserably.

He watched me walk to my car and peered through his door until I was inside and safe.  A quick ‘I love you’ wave and he closed the door.

Smiling all the way home, I start the count down for Thursday.  I wonder if knows how just the thought of time with him makes me feel.

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Limits and Red flags…

Listening to Loving BDSM podcast (fuckin’ love them!) LB132 Red Flags and Submissives on my way home from work tonight.  So many good thoughts and thought-provoking conversations with myself in my head.

When I first started talking to my Sir about what I wanted and where I wanted things to go I legitimately had no idea.  I knew I wanted something more than the vanilla I had experienced.  I knew I wanted something strong and passionate.  I wanted more.  When he straight up asked me I had no idea how to respond.  When he asked me what my limits were I said I didn’t know what they were but I couldn’t imagine him asking me to do something I wouldn’t trust him with.  It frustrated him and I felt bad that I couldn’t give him the answer or an answer.  I just didn’t know.

Entering this realm is tough in any situation when you just don’t know enough to know what to ask for or even what conversations to start.  It is hard for me and I am a mature person who has had life experience to balance and reason against.  I couldn’t imagine being young with little experience or no experience and knowing you want something but not understanding it.  As well as not knowing how to verbally explain what you feel.

I have met Doms and Subs that both fall into the “asshole” category.  Doms resembling trolls who clearly have spent too much time watching dungeon porn and are under the assumption that all subs want what they are watching.  Also, Subs, probably watching the same porn, not realizing they were choreographed, staged, and there are limits and safe words in place there as well.  (That’s what I like to think anyway).  I can watch that kind of porn and get off with the best of them.  That doesn’t mean that is what I want my scenes to look like or be like.

I met a Dom on fetlife.  He seemed nice enough.  He took me under his protection.  I had no idea what the hell that meant but in my head it felt safe.  He seemed to have my best interest at heart.  He answered questions.  We were long distance and on line so he would give me tasks to do and different things.  This was before Sir and I started playing so I felt like I was getting a good start.  I had already fallen for Sir and wanted to be his sub but the timing wasn’t right back then.  I thought this would be a way to get more “in the know” for when Sir was ready for me.  Then there were things.  A gut feel.  He had a sub and they were open about on fetlife but there was just something off.  He moved a lot.  It seemed every sub he had he had moved to their town or they moved to his and then a month or two months later the sub was gone.  He said he probably had 10 kids.  Five that he knew of.  There were other things that were more than red flags and just things I didn’t agree with morally or ethically.  His facade of having his shit together was getting thin enough to see through.  He told me would come to my town with two of his friends and they would take me for the weekend and train me.  Umm… that sounded like kidnapping since I hadn’t mentioned wanting to have a group scene.  He said I would do what ever they asked me to do and by the end of the weekend I would be broken and ready.  I blocked him on all venues.  He found me about two years later and I ignored the text and blocked him again.

It just isn’t easy to trust.  The thing is, it isn’t easy to trust in any situation.  I am the queen of a million chances.  You can hurt me accidentally or accidentally on purpose and I’ll give you justification and forgiveness.  That doesn’t mean I’ll trust you.  It means I will want to trust you.  That’s my every day struggle.  Add in the complexity of BDSM and someone like me can drive themselves crazy.  So being young, Dom or Sub, wanting something so badly your filters could possibly drop below the normal.  Yes there are assholes and there are inexperienced folks just trying to figure stuff out.  Both categories will send you red flags.  All of those red flags should be acknowledged.

In my research and discussions with people I trust I have learned so much but there is always more to learn.  Being able to ask questions is key.  I’ve never been good with confrontation so in my head when the question was put to me I panicked.  I didn’t want to disappoint.  What if one of my limits was something he really enjoyed and wanted.  Of course I had limits.  Deep down inside I knew I had them.  I just didn’t know how to express it.

Many years later after our play had advanced and I was discovering what I like, loved, craved, missed, needed, there are still times when I wonder if I am enough.  Sir handed me a book and asked me to go down the table of contents and check the things I was interested in.  That was a beautiful crutch for me to lean on.  It gave me the blue print.  There were things that were of interest but there were also things that didn’t interest me.  They weren’t hard limits, I just didn’t find them interesting.  Funny thing is some of the things I love and crave and need now, were also things I wasn’t interested in.  So the balancing act continues.

Sir started the conversation before he gave me the book to check out.  “So where do you want to go with everything?  What are you interested in that we haven’t touched on or talked about.  How do you want o move forward?”  he asked as we were cleaning up after dinner.  We rarely have the “I need to talk” type of conversations.  They are all on the fly and out of the blue which is good and bad.

I was taken off guard and I said something like, “I don’t know, what are my options?  I really don’t think there is anything I would not want to try with you”.

“So scat?  Scat would be OK? he said with a straight face and that slightly turned up corner of his mouth that had the hint of that devious smile that always gets me.

“Oh fuck no!” I was quick to respond and I am sure my facial expression was priceless.

“So that’s one,” he said and pinched my cheek.  Then he gave me the book.

Explore, research, question yourself, ask, and if you don’t know what questions to ask, say that.  Say you don’t know but you want to figure it out together.  Say something.

When you see the red flags, get the gut feels, feel slightly (or more than slightly) uneasy, trust those feelings.  Trust your gut, trust your heart, trust yourself.

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The Kiss

After a busy weekend of cleaning and studying I was looking forward to a peaceful Sunday.  I had some packages delivered that came early so I was cleaning and putting new things together.  I started laundry and was so proud that the basement that had flooded last weekend was dry, smelling better, humidity was at 65% and the spiders and crickets were gone with the flood of last weekend.   12:30 pm I go down to switch laundry and as I get tot he bottom of the stairs I see the flow of water coming from the back and side wall and in through the cellar door.  Fuck me running!  So much for being proud and that is what I get for bragging that I had conquered the water in the basement.  I accessed the mess, moved some things around to make sure they didn’t get wet, again, and started clean up.  Mop and bucket in hand I tried to mop up what I could but the water was steady pouring in from all directions.

I walked back upstairs I hear something strange in the kitchen.  Drip. Drip. Drip.  Fuck!  Water was dripping from the ceiling in the kitchen onto the stove.  I stare at the water dripping from inside my cabinets above the stove.  I start to clean up the water and determine where the hell this is coming from.  No clue.  Time to call the landlord.  He comes and assesses the situation and states a roofer and landscaper would be contacted.  Doesn’t exactly help me now.

I sit on the couch knowing the water is increasing from top and bottom of my house.  Now what.  Methodically trying to form a plan in my head I call Home Depot, Loews and Wal-Mart and no one has wetvacs available but they all inform me they are available on-line.   Again, doesn’t help me now.  Damn.

Should I make the call.  We haven’t talked much all weekend.  I knew he was busy with family and working on the new house.  I planned to give space and not bother him as much with trying to have contact.  I text him.  Brief comments as to my situation, and a half request to borrow his wetvac if he isn’t using it.  It was weak.  I probably could have just mopped up the water.  It was an excuse.  It was also the first thing that came to my mind.  Call him.  Let him know you need him.  He will be angry if he learns later that you didn’t.  Call him.

I am constantly torn between trying to be strong and independent, and letting him know I need him.  I don’t want to add stress, add responsibility, add aggravation.  But I need him.  Could I have handled it alone?  Yes, I could have.  I needed him.  Needed to hear his voice.  So I texted.

He called 20 minutes later.  He sounded tired and frustrated.  Not with me, just with everything.  We talked for about 15 minutes.  I sounded pitiful, even to myself.  I didn’t mean to.  I just wanted to hear his voice.

“I can bring the wetvac over if you want it tonight.  I’ll be coming in deep though.”

“I’m sorry what?”  admittedly, I didn’t know what he meant but it sounded dirty and I got excited.

“Ha.  I’ll have my family with me.”  he responded.  I wasn’t sure if he caught the tone in my voice, or was that just what I wished.  I wanted him to know I went to dirty sex with the word ‘deep’.

He said he would be on his way shortly but when he called his family had gone ahead to the restaurant and would be waiting so he would just have to drop the vacuum off and go.  I was disappointed, but I understood.

He pulled into the drive way and as I watched him take the vacuum out of the trunk of his car I was reminded how incredibly sexy he is.   He brought it in the house and headed for the basement.  Set it up and started accessing the water issue.  Talking half to me and half to himself.  In control.  Taking over.  He didn’t just drop and go.  He stayed about 20 minutes and then handed me the hose.  Before he let go he walked toward to me, pressed against me.  Took my face in his hand and kissed me.  His hand went to my breast and he caressed it while we kissed.  Like he read my mind, it was exactly what I needed.

“One day this week.  We will spend time together.”  and he walked up the stairs and left me in the basement.   I looked up the stairs as he closed the door to the basement. What water?  Suddenly the water in the basement and kitchen didn’t seem so bad.

 

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Cuddling

There is something about cuddling.  Wrapped around each other on the couch or in bed.  Where ever.  Just the human touch or someone else.  Sometimes, it isn’t the physical act of having an orgasm that I crave.  I find I can have an orgasm when ever I want.  Watch a little porn, pull out the favorite toy, and your good to go.  Mechanical, solitary, predictable.  I do appreciate the art of masturbation.  Sometimes, truthfully, I get bored with my self.

I crave being with him.  I crave having him inside me anyway possible.  I crave his force, his darkness.  We have amazing sex.  Hot, kinky, rough, controlled, passionate, annihilating sex.  We just don’t have it often enough.  So when we are together it is in the forefront of my mind that we will fuck, play out a scene, make love, particularly because I live like a nun until he calls me.

Having said that, he is also the best “cuddler” in the world.  He will wrap his body around me and pull me in.  No matter if we are on the couch watching TV or in bed ready for sleep, he finds ways for our bodies to touch in all places possible.  Always with a hand on my breast, cupping it in his hand and every now and then a gentle squeeze to let me know he is there.  A occassional caress of my face, moving a finger down my jaw bone.  Gently running his fingers through my hair and then grabbing it like a pony tail.  Moving my hair away from my face so I can see.  Making sure I am comfortable.  There is nothing like cuddling with Sir.

Everything about any kind of contact with him is nothing less than amazing.

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The Slip

The Slip

My past had been full of men telling me I was too fat.  I’d be really pretty if I would just lose some weight.  Or, when I expressed my insecurities I was told to just get over it.  One guy even said to me, “shut up and spread your legs.  All that shit doesn’t matter”.  I remember trying to make that the sweetest thing anyone had ever said to me.  In my brain I thought, he doesn’t care that I have curves.  He doesn’t care that my stomach isn’t flat.  The next day it was clear he didn’t care about me at all.  There was nothing sweet about it.  He couldn’t be bothered with how I felt.  He just wanted to get off.  Sex for me became obligatory.  I stopped caring if I enjoyed it.  I just did it because that is what a girlfriend, fiance, wife does. Orgasms were rare and never from actual fucking.  I was pretty sure I was defective in some way.  Physically or emotionally it didn’t matter.  I knew there was something wrong and I knew it was me.  All of my friends boasted about the amazing sex they were having.  It had to be something wrong with me.

Then, I met Him.  We had moved from innocent flirting as friends to discussing our preferences in the bedroom as a little more than friends.  Everyone knows when things go to that place that you aren’t just talking sports and the weather anymore.  He mentioned he felt he would be too dominant for me.  He knew a little of my sexual past and he knew my insecurities.  He knew I was interested in more than just standard sex.  I had baggage.  Much of me held onto every hateful word and comment I had heard from the men and women of my past.  I shared these memories with him and how it made me feel.  We had amazing deep conversations about what sex should be like and how to get there without bringing the past with me.  He thought it was terrible that men had treated me that way and said those things to me.  Admittedly, I wasn’t sure if he was being honest with me.  What else would a man wanting to get me into bed say?  I agree the memories and events of my past were painful and it has left a mark and embossed my opinion of myself so deeply that I find it difficult to believe anything else. If men, or women, were being honest about wanting to be with me, I couldn’t bring myself to believe them. He was my friend and even though we hadn’t been friends long I felt I could trust him.  It was instinctive and I had no fear that he would hurt me like I had been before.  I knew his intimate pleasures and I was curious.  He had this natural confidence that overwhelmed and excited me.  Those memories and experiences of the past crept back into my mind and mingled with the hot sexy thoughts I had of him and made me instantly feel ridiculous for thinking he would ever entertain being with me.

“I am nervous to be alone with you,” horribly blurted out of nowhere.

“What are you afraid of,” he asked.  More direct than I was prepared for.

“I am afraid I will be very nervous and too self conscious to be naked in front of you.”

“We will get you a slip to wear so you won’t be completely exposed.  In time I will help you find yourself as sexy as I do.”

And I was done! He did not say that I should lose weight and then I would feel better.  He did not say I should just get over it. Perhaps he saw the broken parts of me, but they did not scare him away.  If he saw it as a challenge it wasn’t one that frightened him or one he couldn’t be bothered with.   Without skipping a beat he found a solution to make me feel better about the situation so I could enjoy myself.  What kind of man does that?  What kind of mystical powers did he have that no man I had ever met did not possess.  His words had me instantly wet, flushed and a little off balance.  Ok, a lot off balance.  I got myself together and responded,

“I would like that.”

“Then I want you to go and buy a slip.  A black one.  Have it fit slightly tight because I want to see your curves.  Not so tight that you are uncomfortable.  Will you do this for me?”

“Yes Sir, I will” I responded without even realizing what I had said.

“Good girl.”

And there it began.  I bought the slip the next day and I have been obeying his request ever since. It took weeks before we actually made love for the first time.  There were a lot of conversations, texts, phone calls, and sharing before he would take me into his bedroom.  I was beginning to wonder if it would ever happen.  He never told me why we didn’t make love or mess around.  Those old feelings lingered close enough to make me wonder if he was growing bored with me.  Looking back now I know with every word I said he listened and responded in a way that made me feel at ease.  Not only sexually but had me liking myself again, if only just a little.

By the time we actually did make love for the first time, I didn’t wear the slip. I didn’t need the slip.  He has never even seen the slip.  That night, July 13th 2011, was the most amazing, emotional, sexual and intimate experience of my life.

 

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If he ever reads this blog, at least he will finally see the slip for the first time!

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The Gift

11:41 pm – Sir

“I wish you were here with me now.  I’m all alone and craving my Toy.”

11:42 pm – Toy

“I could be there in 15 minutes.  I would just need to put some clothes on.”

11:59 pm – Toy

“Should I come to you now?”

11:51 pm – Sir

“Up to you my dear.  I would love to have you.”

11:52 pm – Toy

“I am on my way”

12:07 am – Toy

“I am here.”

I walked in the side door.  Dropping my purse and shoes at the door, locking it.  I walked through the dimly lit house and climbed the stairs.  Sir is on the bed looking at his phone.  I stand in the door way, waiting.  “Take off your clothes,” he says, without looking away from his phone.  I obey and take off my clothes.  He motions for me to lay down next to him.  I climb into the bed and instantly curl my body around his.  We wrap our legs around each other and he has me in his arms.  I am finally at peace after weeks of longing for this moment.  We are breathing together.  My ear pressed against his chest I feel and hear his beautiful heart. He has put the phone away and both of his arms are around me.  It is warm.  Our bodies are combining their heat and I can feel the sweat.  Neither of us move to adjust or make it cooler.  We are comfortable.  We are peaceful.

“I’ve been so worried about you lately,” I whisper, not even sure if he can hear me.

“I’ve been worried about me too,” he responds.  I squeeze my arms and legs around him tighter and get as close to him as I can.  Silence.  Not the awkward kind.  The peaceful knowing kind where no words are needed.

Unaware of how long the silence continued or weather we drifted in and out of sleep.  I felt him relax one tense stressed muscle at a time.  I’m comforted that my presence brings him release from all that is causing him stress.  I feel his arms tighten around me.

“I have missed you.  I always miss you.” he says.  I hold him tighter.  I feel him shift and the mood changes.  It is a need.  There is solace in knowing that it is there when I rarely feel that I am this much of a need for him.  He grabs my neck and leads me down to his cock.  I am complete.  As he enters me for the first time in weeks, my body stretches to accommodate his size.  It is a familiar beautiful pain that I love and miss.

As we spend the next hour getting reacquainted with our bodies and our souls, I am reminded that I am his.  For the first time in weeks I am at ease with my place in his life. This feeling won’t last long.  The second I am away from him my doubts and fear will return.  In this moment I accept his last minute unexpected gift of time.  His gift to me that night was not his gift of physical time and satisfaction.  It was most importantly his gift of the knowledge that I am needed, missed, wanted, loved.  It was the gift of being his Toy.

Letting Go

In life we always have gains and losses.  It is how things go.  The gains and losses are both good and bad, happy and sad, anxiety heavy and stress free.  We take these gains and losses one at a time.  Some we handle better than others.

After my first dad died, I sent flowers to my mom and sister every year on the anniversary of his death.  His birthday was in the same month, but for some reason, I felt that sending flowers on the anniversary of his death made sense.  It was how I dealt with it.  It seemed to help me that my mom and sister would be receiving something nice on a day that held nothing but sadness for us.  I never thought about how it may be impacting them or that maybe they didn’t want the reminders.  Perhaps they would have preferred those flowers on a day that meant nothing.  A gesture from me on a regular day, just because I wanted to make them smile.  It was my sister who approached me on a random day and asked me why I still sent the flowers.  I told her because I wanted them to know I was thinking of them.  “We know you are.  We don’t need the reminder.  It is depressing to look at the flowers  and know the reason they are there.”  Point taken.  From that day forward I took that lesson and applied it to all the bad memories of bad days, deaths and losses, and dealt with them on my own.  Most of the time alone.

We all deal with things differently.  There are limitless processes that people handle loss and sadness.  And that is ok.  WE don’t all have to handle things the same way.  Even in the same family, we survive independently together.  Some families pull together and get stronger and handle things with a team like process.  Some families grow apart and handle things isolated, individually, quiet and not sharing their feelings.  The success of either or these and many more processes is hit or miss.

The bottom line is that there is no right or wrong way.  Sometimes when things don’t work, people can decide to change their processes when things don’t turn out their way or they can accept that their processes are what they are.  Some see the problems and the obstacles in their way, some do not.