Violated

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2015 has not been a fun ride for me so far.

I came back to San Francisco to a trashed apartment and a flea infested cat, along with bills do in a city where I was suddenly completely alone… Again.

And so I washed the cat. I washed the sheets. The blankets. The clothes. The apartment. I put off my main way of making income for several days to get all the “have to”s done before the “want to”s. And I fought this growing pit of loneliness as I worked.

Missing Kane is this.. Ache. This wound that just won’t fucking heal. It’s not something that another lover can just put a balm on. It’s this burning that only he can ease… Ignoring it is akin to acid corroding bits and pieces of me. Acknowledging it risks pain and heartache, as well as getting lost in that dark abyss, being swallowed by that pain. And so I work. I let myself feel. But I keep going.

I was finally going to get back to work today. Finally make some money again after an expensive holiday season.

So of course, my car was broken in to today, the window smashed when I don’t have money to repair it.

I acted out of my normal habits today. My laptop almost never leaves the house, unless I’m taking a trip somewhere for several days. I’m typing this up on my phone because my laptop was in the car. It was in a messenger bag I got for Christmas from my parents. It was one I begged for, from the Strand in New York City.

This morning I woke up to my internet being on the fritz. I watch animals for friends occasionally when they’re away, and this was one of those days. So I figured, why not? I have to hang there for a couple hours anyway and take care of the cat. I’ll bring my computer along with my usual books (I’m always reading at least 2 at a time) and my journal, which I carry everywhere with me. In the spiral of the journal I keep a drawing pen that Kane gave me what feels like a world ago… The only pen in history that I haven’t lost. I also brought along the phone charging brick he gave me and a couple spare cell phone cables.

My trash can got… Well… Trashed while I was away. So I went on my Merry way to Target to cat sit. I parked in a parking garage I’ve been in over a hundred times at this point.. My go to spot. Knowing I would be gone for just a few minutes and that I had tinted windows in my car, I threw my messenger bag in the trunk. It was heavy with all my books. I didn’t want to drag it into Target.

I remember pausing at the trunk of my car as I pulled out a smaller bag to bring into Target. I grabbed my wallet my phone and my keys.. And for a moment stopped, staring at my bag. Should I take my books? No. I didn’t need them. This would be quick.

Gone. All gone. Back window smashed.

I don’t give two shits about my laptop. Okay… That’s a lie. I do. I’m upset I have to buy a new laptop. But it was a 300 dollar laptop. A used macbook that I loved, but can replace. I was due to change password and login information on things as it was… The only thing someone could hack on me would be my student loan accounts and hell they’re welcome to that. I didn’t even have time to back up my phone on my laptop… I’m kinda grateful for that now.

Very grateful for that now.

It’s the shock of the invasion and theft in a place I thought was safe, along with the theft of my books. My journal. My bag. My pen. The journal, bag, and pen were the hard blows. The journal especially…

The books were kink related books. My journal.. A lot of reflection. A lot of processing of me and Kane, me and Smith.. Even some reflection on what happened between Cal and I. Personal. Deep. What I wouldn’t openly speak about, even here…

I felt naked. Exposed. And so completely alone. I don’t have close friends here like I thought… I can’t reach out to Kane in emergencies outside of just informing him what happened. He’s not in a place where he can deal with anything else. I’ve gotten closer to Cal again recently.. And having my friend and teacher (teacher! Not mentor! Difference! He’s someone I feel like I can always learn from and butt heads with) back in my life is fantastic.. But he can’t exactly magically appear either, nor should he have to. Smith lives 400 miles away.

I filed a police report. I was helped by a very nice security guard that was upset when I cried. “A pretty girl like you shouldn’t be crying. Can’t believe these ass holes did this to you.” I mentally scrambled to cover my costs and figure out how the hell I was going to fix the window and work. How the hell I was going to get to work tomorrow.

It was when I was searching garbage cans for my books that I started to cry. I reached out to Kane first.. Calling frantically. I don’t know why. It just felt like more than a text, even though he almost never talks on the phone.. I reached out to Smith. And eventually Cal. The more I searched the more I felt gutted. Violated. Alone.

No, I didn’t find any of my things. I’m sure you’ll manage to spot my kinky novels being sold in the tenderloin somewhere. I missed the garbage my journal got tossed in somehow… I’m sure.

Smith said he would call and check in on me later. I got home, I curled up with my cat, and I cried. At risk of sounding like a crazy cat lady adopting Poe was probably one of the best things I could have possibly done. That little fuzzy creature loves unconditionally and without judgment.. And is even more of a cuddle whore than I am. I fall asleep every night with him pressed against me, which helped when I’m aching for someone’s arms to be around me.

I didn’t expect to see Kane at all.. He came back from his trip away sick and stressed. I couldn’t ask him to help with my problems when I had my own.. But he made a little time and he came to see me.

I forgot how good he smells.. How easily I fit in his arms. How close and how tight he holds me.. Like I’m going to disappear when lately he’s been the ghost. I vaguely thought about clinging to him so tightly that he wouldn’t leave.. Because when my Dom is with me no real harm can come to me.

And then we started talking. About he and I. About where we were. And the rawness I felt earlier in the day had a vat of battery acid thrown on it.

“I’m sorry. I know I haven’t been the Dom you needed. But I will always be here as your friend.”
“So where does that put you and I?”
“Where we were last month. I’m not changing anything yet.. But I haven’t been a very good Dom. Would you say I’ve been?”

I couldn’t answer. I had missed him so fucking much. Just seeing him.. Hearing his voice after nearly a month without it (he was never alone long enough to send voice memos)… After having nightmare upon nightmare about him telling me to take off the collar, that he was letting me go because he couldn’t handle it..

“Obviously I can’t. I know you’ve been wearing the collar mostly symbolically lately.”

I wear the collar because it’s part of my identity. I identify as Kane’s submissive. I belong to him. I wear it to remind myself when we are apart that I serve someone. That someone wants me enough to own me, and he cherishes each time I submit to him. That when we are in our D/s rolls we both feel so much more alive together than we ever have with previous partners. I wear it because no matter the ups and the downs in our relationship I can look in the mirror and see it.. See that it’s still true. That I’m his. That sometime soon he will order me on my hands and knees, spank my ass red, toy me, and take what is his.

It’s not about the sex.. It’s the possession in that act (Although let me just say the sex is fantastic). It’s the.. Rightness I feel when in his arms. When underneath him. When his body wraps around mine.

.. It’s also about other things. About art debates, and movie marathons. Cooking dinner and going for a swim after. Getting competitive about who does the most fitbit steps. It’s studio time together. Bouncing ideas back and forth. Talking about collaborative pieces done together.. About him coming to the clay studio with me.

“When will I see you again?”
“I don’t know.”
“Oh… It’s okay I understand.”
“Liar. It’s not.”

No. It’s not okay. It’s not okay that I ache for this man. It’s not okay that I see the one I love exhausted and hurting and can do nothing to fix it. It’s not okay that I don’t even think submitting to him will help anymore.. Because suddenly he is questioning himself as my Dom.

While we were apart I saw glimpses of the man I missed.. I asked for what I wanted, something very hard for me to do, and said I needed to submit. I wanted his Dominance. I understood I could just be his submissive for now. I was okay with it.. And I performed best I could for him. I sent pictures. Kinky thoughts. A video. And I received glimpses of MY Dom in return. The man that takes me without regret.. That lets go in that moment and let’s his Dominant side take hold.

I looked into my lover’s eyes today and saw fatigue and pain.. Two things I’m sure he found in my eyes as well. I got bashed by the universe today… But I’m holding on to hope.

While I was home I burned quickly through a memoir, Daddy by Madison Young (someone I’ve looked up to quite a bit).

At one point she shares an intimate scene with her therapist. Months before, her and her Daddy had completely fallen apart. For months he just.. Hadn’t been there. They had sex, but it was hollow and that eventually stopped just long enough to realize she was pregnant.

She reaches out time and time again to her drug addicted, cheating Daddy, always signing messages “your devoted Spaniel”. It was months before he responded.. Even more months before they for back together.

It’s after they’re back together that she’s talking to her therapist, sharing a fear that no one would understand why she took Daddy back. Why stay with a drug addicted cheater?

Because it’s so much more complicated than that. Because that level of devotion is so hard to shake. Because in the end living without them in your life is a shattering thought. You can do it, but there will be casualties in the form of your emotional well being.

Because that’s YOUR Dom. Not A Dom. Yours. Because part of a submissive’s duty is to lead their Dominant out of the darkness whenever possible. You can’t walk the path for them. But you can hand them a flash light and show them where the light at the end of the tunnel is. How they get there is up to you.

I love my Dominant. I love Kane. Truly. Madly. Deeply. Smith made me say that, over and over yesterday, when I was missing Kane a hell of a lot. To remind me what makes the hurt worth it. To remind me he loves me too. That there’s a reason we embarked on this craziness to start with.

Life is not easy. Relationships aren’t easy. I began mine knowing that it would get much harder before it would ever get easier. I write this raw, bruised, and exhausted.. And loving him all the same.

I’m at the end of the tunnel, holding the flashlight so that he may see the light to follow. I’m not moving from my post.. Because that is MY Dom. I’ve never thought of him as bad. Or failing. I thought of him as a man who was hurting, and struggling who gave me all he could give in those moments. I can’t make him fight for us. I can’t walk his path for him.

But I want him to.

We’re worth it. I know that. I hope he does.

I’m not the same as when we started. I’m standing on my own two feet and am with him out of want, not need. As isolated as I’ve become lately I could find another Dom to be my primary. I could cut loose and start over. I choose him as much as he chooses me. For those kind blue eyes that turn darker when he wants me.. Those hands that turn my body to putty
with soft caresses and light it on fire with spanks and smacks. For the snuggles. The conversations. The ease with which we can just.. Be at times. For lava buns in the Castro. For those rare moments when I am allowed to be his princess.

I am his without regret.. And without any desire to have his spot filled. Tonight I will curl up in his shirt, cuddle with my cat, and dream about the next time he touches me, hoping each new moment is better than the last.

Yours bruised but not broken
-Rena

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