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Day 28

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28) Has your submission ever let you down? Have you ever been criticized for your submission? Have you ever regretted being or feeling submissive in a moment or in a relationship? Have you ever looked back and realized you made a mistake and how did you handle your submission going forward from that.

We are human, submissives and Dominants. Sometimes we wish we weren’t. I know that there is a part of myself that always wants to be the BEST submissive possible, to please him more than anyone else has.

I am going to start this question off by answering the last part of it. I have never thought my decision to submit was a mistake. Never. It is as natural to me as breathing. It is a part of myself I shoved away for a very long time. I may make mistakes in that submission from time to time, but do I regret deciding to be who and what I am at any point in time? No. I am what I am. And to be honest, I love what I am. I have doubts about myself constantly…but not about my ability to submit or my skills as a submissive. It is the one place where I am completely sure of myself.

I had parts of my submission criticized, very early on. Very, VERY early on, back when Cal was still mentoring me. His girlfriend at the time decided that I was a threat to her, and my poor friend was so enthralled by the woman that he didn’t see for a long time just how much he was being manipulated. Every time I saw him, it was with her as well, so that we could never talk privately. At the time I was a little bit of a mess.. I was growing up, feeling those aches and pains of the first time you stand on your own two feet away from any outside help. I was scared, and just needed someone to tell me that it was going to be okay so that I could keep going. When we were alone, or when we talked privately, he reassured me that this was a normal part of growing up, and that this too shall pass and I would be okay. He would then list fifty thousand logical next steps that would short-circuit my panic button and make everything better. When I saw him with her, however… She noticed when I was upset and jumped at the chance to make it worse, telling me I wasn’t prepared to be in a relationship with someone of his age and experience, and that I should just move on.. She was right about the relationship, but I didn’t WANT a relationship, I wanted a teacher… She spent a good couple of months telling me I was a horrible submissive and would never learn to be one properly. Eventually I stopped talking to her and my friend, because I couldn’t fucking take it.

As for my submission letting me down.. The end with Kane. It wasn’t his fault, it wasn’t mine.. It was both of us stretching something out that should have been left behind and miscommunication all the while. He kept trying to tell me that he could no longer be what I needed… but he couldn’t find the words. He would try it gingerly, not fully wanting to let me go just as much as I didn’t want him to let me go.. And I misheard him time and time again. Every time he said “You deserve so much better.” I would go no no no. I don’t want better I want you… Subby mind was just too devoted to here Dominant. I loved being his. I loved wearing his collar… He gave me Disney. He gave me my first taste of feeling cherished, being someone’s princess… and I loved it. Letting go of that, even knowing that it was the right thing to do, was a heartbreaking process. Even then, it took me months to take off the collar. I felt at war with myself, pulling apart my day collar. I had to take it off myself because he didn’t have time to see me..but it felt horrible. It felt disloyal. I now understand why being properly released is so important. Because otherwise a submissive will eat themselves alive for doing something that they know is right but feels so wrong.

Phew.. Okay. That was a loaded one that brought up much emotional baggage… I’m going to go and pick out my dungeon outfit for this evening… Nothing like corsets and stilettos to make the night better.

As always, yours

-Rene

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Daydreams and Dulldrums

 

I turn 24 in 10 days.image

It doesn’t feel like it, really… Honestly I feel older. Exhausted. I’ve had a knot in my chest for about a week now, a heavy weight that continually reminds me that I need to find a new home ASAP with shit credit and very little in the bank. And a cat. Who is currently trying very hard to sit on the keyboard while I type.

My friends back east have started asking me what I want for my birthday.. What do I want? Honestly?

I want one uninterrupted day with my boyfriend. I want to get my favorite coffee drink at my favorite cafe in the Haight and show him all of my favorite spots, including the Anarchist bookstore where we could actually afford to shop. I want to get a new pair of boots at Wasteland and possibly a pretty dress to wear the following night at BaGG.

I want to talk.. have those conversations that only happen when he and I are on our own, and bask in the glory of having nothing to do other than enjoy each other’s company. I want to snuggle. Kiss. I want to sit in his lap and secretly (not so secretly) revel in the fact that there is a lap at my disposal whenever I desire (and/or am allowed to) snuggle.

I want him to surprise me.. to take me somewhere I’ve never seen before. He always surprises me.

I want to eat my favorite popcorn tuna roll at Saru sushi and get the yummy salmon tasting plate, and drink sake out of the pretty little glass cups that look way too breakable to be functional. I want to for once not be in a hurry, not be stressed. I want to feel just a little bit special for the day.

And I admit, I want to go star gazing. I want him to be relaxed and happy and just…enjoy the moment. I want one day that is mine.

And yes, I want fantastic birthday sex and snuggles afterward. I want marks and welts and bites and to sob and shake before being fucked into that blissful pleasure/pain state. I want to fly in the way that only submitting allows me to. I want bliss. And then I want birthday spankings at BaGG the next evening and lots of photos and spankings and bruises. I want his hands on me. Marking me, claiming me. I want that half-posessive grab on my leg he does during BaGG that I’m not even sure he notices that he does… the grin on his face that says “You make look, and you may touch, and yes she’s pretty, but this is mine.”

The reality is that my birthday is on a Tuesday… Weekdays are a hard day to get to relax during.. it doesn’t happen. James has been incredibly busy lately, which is a good thing. It means paychecks and photos and him doing what he loves…

It’s just… yeah.

I can’t take a whole Tuesday off… I have to make firsts and lasts for a new place. I have to HUNT for a new place to start with. I have to make double of what I normally do in a single month, factor in renting a truck, moving on my own, loading truck time, boxes, pet deposits..

I saw an apartment two days ago that I want with everything in me.. I’m waiting, holding my breath, hoping they get back to me and say that it’s mine. And if it isn’t? More applications. More searching. More hoping. More praying my bad credit and cat don’t make finding a home impossible.

I know why I am in the mood that I’m in, logically. I understand the melancholy. The desire to just curl up in the safest place I know and just… stay for a while. I know that this too shall pass and that better things are to come.. That I will eventually turn a corner. That there will come a time when both James and I will find that delicate balance between working enough to afford gas and not working so much so that we actually have free time to see each other..  I was just.. hoping I could actually celebrate my birthday.

23 has been hard. It’s been a bitch, quite frankly. It had a good start… I can’t complain about being a Disney princess for a day and being allowed to run rampant around Disneyland… But 23 had a lot of heartache too… a lot of harsh lessons learned and way too much time spent alone. The reality is that I like having a community.. I like knowing people, having friends.. and yes, I like that I am with someone that isn’t afraid of their kinky side… that is as open about it as I am and doesn’t go by some double name (I’m sure there’s a blog post about that sometime in the future).

I am… exhausted. Emotionally wrecked at the moment. But I’m in a state where I can work in the not so artistic way. Get me like this and I can haul ass.. Eye on the prize. I need a new home. And fuck it, I’m going to get it for my birthday. 24 is all new and shiny.. Possibilities are endless. And dammit I’m getting too old to be this lost for much longer. 24 will have grad school in it, this I can assure you.

And maybe, just maybe, I can get some cuddles, kisses, and bruises from James.. As busy as our lives can be he’s proven to be very good at making time when I need it..and knowing when I need it. Before I can fall and break he catches me and sets me back on my feet, then gives me just enough of a shove so that I can start walking again…

Gah. Okay. That sounded like a ball of mush even to me. I’m done spewing, promise.

Off to work now. HAUL ASS TIME!!!!

Yours, feeling old

-Rena

I’m Still Alive!

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GAH…barely, but I am.

I’m actually quite a bit better than I was a couple of weeks ago. Finals…bad juju. False friends…also bad juju.

A lot has happened in the last couple weeks. I started and stopped several blog posts, almost like in the beginning.. Too much. I got too overwhelmed to update.

First off… on the vanilla front my job is fantastic. I am in absolute love..even though the paperwork is proving to be a huge pain in the ass. The job requires health information and doctors stuff… I’m a bad 20something. I haven’t had a primary care doctor since I outgrew my pediatrician. So…that may take some figuring. Time to pull up my big girl pants and actually figure out this real life shit.

Not being a student for the first time in my life is an..odd feeling, especially when I was so set on going to grad school. My health insurance may be at risk because of it..but I will figure all that out.

I was at work the other day on my lunch break when I began thinking of all my firsts for the next year, and the past few months. Certain things I love and look forward to (first Dom, first collar, first poly relationship, first big girl job, first actual non-shoebox apartment) and certain things are hard (first Mother’s Day away from home, first time missing my daddy’s birthday when I’m the only one that ever makes a big deal of it, first summer away from my baby sister). A lot of what I’m not looking forward to are things that were staples, traditions, that I’m missing, but that’s part of growing up and gaining your own life. Growing pains are always hard. If they weren’t, they would have a different fricken nickname.

On a BDSM front… Okay where do I start.

The beginning, I guess. Which is where Sir and I have started again. I imploded, there is no two ways around it, and I screwed up in a big way. While I expected all of the blame to be put on my rookie mistake and for him to walk away, frustrated, Sir took some of the blame for my behavior as well. We talked, it got emotional (it often does…) and decided to start from the beginning, doing this the right way. Not rushed, because I’m disappearing. The pressure of me going poof is no longer there. Which means I will get my collar when I’ve earned it.

Literally.

I make chainmail jewelry. A couple weeks ago, Sir tasked me with making my own collar. He had picked out a particularly challenging weave and instructed me to create a collar similar to that, and to think about what it meant, what the relationship meant, all aspects of it, while I made it. Well… once I got the weave down I made it in a couple hours..and a few days later saw a very similar collar in a shop window. My inner artist twitched, and I asked Sir if I could make another one, with a weave that seemed more unique and more fitting. He granted my request, and I made it in a couple of days (It’s now my new favorite weave to do ^.^ Is fun…).

The day after I imploded, Sir and I met up for the evening. I gave him the collar that I had made. He picked it up, contemplated it, played with it… and tasked me with something that requires quite a bit more patience. I am to make a carbon copy of the collar I showed him that night, exact in every detail. I have to do it by earning _every_last_ring_. Each evening, I ask Sir before bed how many links I can add to my collar. Some nights are more than others. I get one link just for asking, and I get more if I’ve done something proving certain submissive behaviors, or done anything particularly pleasing to him. I’ve learned to adjust the times I ask because there are times when he passes out or is busy or I pass out and I miss my chance.

Last night, I earned 10 rings. I went to a kink coffee social for beginners in the BDSM world and hit it off with a guy. He’s pan-sexual, and the typical type of guy I am attracted to. Big. Scruffy. Could toss me around like a hot potato. He pulled my chair out for me when I came over to sit down and kept sending me glances.. and so I sent them back. And then we talked after…and we cuddled a bit, and we kissed. He was even gentlemanly and walked me back to my apartment.

A very sweet fella, and definitely someone I will hang out with in the future…but no romantic potential. He’s nice… but the intellectual conversations just aren’t there (a brain is a huge turn on), and he may Top from time to time…but he is not a Dom. He’s a switch, and tends to be more of a bottom with women. Both were huge buzz kills for me. He was a decent kisser, however, and I was proud of myself for putting myself out there. So was Sir đŸ™‚

I’m still working on the whole dating thing.. I feel like I haven’t experienced enough of what being a sub really is, what it means, to tackle another Dom. I don’t want a vanilla relationships, and casual anything seems to always come with catches. I thought coffee house guy would be some casual fun until he mentioned taking things slow.

….Taking what slow? We have things? Mrow? Damn.

I’m hoping to click with someone eventually. The more things I go to, the more I expose myself to, the more people I meet and the more chances of me hitting it off with someone. I’m even attempting to be on Fetlife more. I joined a group that posts classifieds seeking D/s partners, for curiosities sake of what’s out there more than anything else. I read, I learn. I ask Sir questions when I have them. I earn my collar link by link. So far, I’ve earned 21 rings. Only about 120 or so to go. No, I haven’t counted every last ring that I have to earn. If I do, I will obsess, and I don’t want that. I’ll get the collar when I’m supposed to.

I had a conversation with Sir a few days ago after another meltdown that made some things just…click with me. I was beating the shit out of myself. I hate disappointing him, HATE IT. I don’t want him to regret picking me when I wanted him to so badly. I voiced my fears to him. He said, “Well get through it, little one. Together.” Neither of us had realized just how stubborn I was..just how hard I was clinging to that last bit holding me back from completely submitting to him.

Submission is a choice. I find myself rereading this blog post almost daily lately to remind myself of that http://servingmaster.com/2014/04/24/the-good-submissive/ . I recommend it. I remind myself that I am choosing this path, that I want this, need this. I need to trust Sir, obey him, and submit.

That evening after the meltdown, when Sir told me that we would get through it all together, he also said that he would turn me into a submissive than any Dom would be proud to have, and that he would help me find a Dom, wherever I was, when the time is right. I adore Sir, truly. I trust him completely. When he says it’s going to be okay and that we’ll get through it, he means it and I believe him. I still have so much to learn..so much I need to let myself learn, but I’m on the right track.

The night of the munch everyone went around and told people who they were and why they were there. When I introduced myself I mentioned that I was there because the Dom mentoring me thought it would be a good activity for me to go to; that he and his girlfriend/submissive were very experienced in BDSM and I was as green as green could be and he wanted me to get some exposure to others, connect to people both green and experienced. Meet people in general. The Dom heading the meeting said, “You are very, VERY lucky your Dom found you, because there are some psychos out there…there are a lot of psychos out there. It seems you have one of the real ones.”

I know I’m lucky. I’m grateful. And I’m definitely changing, slowly, for the better.

More to come… when things settle a bit.

-Rena