Tag Archives: D/s

Things Left Unsaid

368FFA55-D996-469B-9E7B-CB3A71A9D030I don’t normally end dates with Ryan in tears… He’s actually one of the few sadists in my life that dislikes making me cry. Tonighthas been… a lot

Let me backtrack.

Today started out a little rocky to begin with. I hadn’t realized that the partner Ryan had the slip with was spending the night. He had forgotten to tell me, and I found out in a nonchalant ‘she just left and I’m gonna go take a nap’ message.

I twanged. Badly.

I took off my mark from him and let myself cry and try to process. It hit hard because it felt like he was hiding it from me. That is illogial. There’s no reason he would hide it from me. He tells me when he has dates with others, as I do him. He told me about the date. He just. Neglected the overnight. And honestly thought he had told me.

Which is something my brain still doesn’t trust.

I got there, eventually. Bruised, and a little bit weary logical brain started kicking in. It had to. I had a date with Ryan two hours after I found out his other partner stayed the night and I couldn’t show up a hot mess. I wanted to have a good date with him. The one before had been..nice. Mellow. Low key. But Sundays were when we usually played. It had been over a week since he’d touched me in any way sexually, the longest since we started dating, and I wanted his hands on me.

He’s had a busy last couple of weeks. One of my meta’s came in to town and spent the weekend last week, and work, a case of the sniffles, and a date last night had him worn. I could see that long before he disappeared for a couple of hours for a weekly meditation group. Logic brain braced myself for lack of play and told myself that it was alright. That just because we didn’t play tonight didn’t mean he doesn’t want me.

Illogical brain, however, was still craving touch. When he confirmed that he wasn’t up to playing tonight I swallowed  the illogical frustration and did something stupid. Without thinking, I reached out and vented to my roommate to try and calm down. Ryan knows me and my reactions well, and I do flair up emotionally quickly and easily before coming back down. I wanted the flair to die off faster; wanted to just get on with the rest of my night and enjoy it. Venting helps.

He saw the venting. He ended up frustrated and upset. Which. Made me even more upset and unsettled.

He voiced frustrations of how pressured he feels by me, and how often he finds it difficult to say no because of my reactions and I felt.. lost. I don’t know how to respond to that.. When I tell him truthfully that I really want to play and he’s not in the mood he gets frustrated by seeing my disappointment and feels pressured. When I don’t express the need to play and try to swallow what I’m feeling and get over it faster I get chided for not telling him when something is wrong.. But what’s the right reaction at this point? What’s safe? I want and desire my partner. I can’t just turn of the “damn that sucks” when I feel it without it showing a little..  And that’s all it is. It’s a “damn that sucks” moment that fades as I adjust. Touch is a huge love language for me. And he does touch me in nonsexual ways often. He will stroke my arm when we cuddle watching a movie or pet my hair. But there’s a difference between that and grabbing my ass while we cuddle, or slipping a hand under my clothing as he used to. It’s touch expressed in a very different way. And I miss it. I’m allowed to miss it. I am an emotional squishball. It takes me half a beat to adjust, and sometimes he just can’t understand why. He doesn’t need that half a beat, and I envy him. I do. I can also see why it frustrates him, that I get hung up on feels between points A and B sometimes  I’m getting better at not being ruled by my emotions but they still make an impact when they hit. There is a step between “oh, I was looking forward to that” and “it’s okay things change and these plans will be fun too!”

Lately, it’s been harder to adjust. I am very secure in poly so long as I know my place and know that place is good. I am Ryan’s little girl. A lot of that ends up being expressed sexually. We indulge in dark age play rather frequently, and thanks to Ryan a lot of things that I thought were too taboo have turned out..not to be so. Our scenes have gotten wonderfully twisted at times and I love them…but they seem to be happening less and less. He beats me at BaGG fairly frequently with his hands which I enjoy quite a bit, but the nights that we could go to the dungeon often get claimed before I can ask for them (there was a little event at Catalyst I had wanted to go to this weekend..and chickened out on bringing it up because he mentioned having a date Saturday with the other partner before I could, and I feel too guilty to ask him to bump the plans to another night). I see him after work, which is lovely, but often ends with him fatigued. We used to play at his place with impact from time to time, but he told me on Friday that he was afraid his walls were too thin for our impact. That was an honest disappointment. We did a scene months ago that ended with him fucking me while he hit me with the curry comb…and I loved it. It was raw and brutal and hurt in all the right ways..and it’s not something that would happen at the Citadel.

Right now he’s my only regular sexual partner, and that is on me. He mentioned during our tough discussion that he thought me finding others to sate my needs would be really good for him. Great. Yes. Fine. I”m working on that. “I’ve heard you turn down dates. They don’t have to be kinky.”

Here’s the problem. They kind of do. At least, for me.

I am not a collector. I am poly because I am realistic in that no person can sate all the needs of another. No one can fill all the slots of another or check all the boxes. And the needs that aren’t being filled for me are those deep, dark, submissive urges. My slave side. The part of me that craves protocol and formal D/s. I’m not going to get that from a vanilla relationship. I don’t honestly think I can have a vanilla relationship anymore. The kink community is too much a part of my day to day life. It’s a Dominant’s voice that turns me on, that gruff, toppy, no nonsense tone. It’s firm hands that will hold me down and fuck me one moment, beat the crap out of me at another moment, and pet and stroke me after all of it. Express that to a vanilla person and you find them running for the hills. And I’ve tried. I always end up feeling like the freak.

The problem with wanting, craving, the level of D/s that I do is that.. new partners don’t come easily. It’s hard to get that deep. It takes time, and there’s no guarantee of it. So, I can invest a year or two into someone and then it just.. stops when a wall gets hit. I am a LOT, with a lot of moving pieces and I’m aware of that. Get deep enough with me and you will find some jagged edges you can’t see at all from the surface. That takes time, and trust, and not something that can happen from a shallow relationship. I don’t find them fulfilling or worth my time. I work a lot. My time is valuable. And I find dating.. exhausting. With the shit I’ve been processing interracting with others has been MUCH harder than it’s been in the past, and this is interracting with established souls in my world. Trying to pull new people in right now is too much when I fear I’m already at max capacity.

Another problem is.. it’s not just about me getting laid. It would scratch an itch, yeah, but not the right itch. I have a very good relationshp with my favorite vibrator. I can take care of myself for quite a bit sexually. It’s the lack of contact with that particular partner, that lack of bond, that does fucked up things to my brain. Especially when I know play has happened with metas in the time that he and I have had a dry spell.

I feel.. displaced, tolerated instead of wanted, lost and confused and just.. placed on a shelf, picked up when useful and put back when I become too much. And I miss my Daddy. I haven’t been able to really little, really be his little girl, in weeks, and I miss that connection so much it physically hurts. There’s nothing that replaces that, no way that someone else could check those particular boxes. It doesn’t have to be sex. More than friendly pets, an extra hair tug, pinning me to the wall at BaGG and kissing me till my toes curl. Anything that hinted at want and desire, even if the body wasn’t physically up for it.. Even words. “When Daddy has the energy we should try BLANK. Would you like that, sweetie?” He used to mind fuck me, tease me, tell me naughty things we would do or try. There was a time early on where I teased him so much that he ‘made a mess’ in his shorts while he was at work and it turned me on so much I was close to cumming. I’ve tried engaging lately with hits and jokes and photos and it just..falls flat.

I don’t know how to ask for any of that without feeling like I’m pressuring him. I asked if I could write out a ‘little list’ about a week ago about things I wanted to explore while in little headspace that I don’t often have the words for when I’m there. He said it was a good idea. I haven’t been able to really start it…because I feel guilty for asking for anything. I don’t want him to think I’m greedy and asking for too much.

He’s disappearing for nine days this coming Friday, for a meditation course that I know will do him good. Him sitting settles a lot, and I’ve seen him more frustrated than normal and in poorer moods than his norm outside of anything between he and I. It will be amazing for him, and I’m so happy he’s going.

At the same time, the illogical, emotional little wants attention from her Daddy. Wants to be wanted by her Daddy. I asked if we could have a date on Tuesday and his immediate response was that he needed time to himself. He’s seeing me three days in a row. That’s a lot. But. They are three days where the chances of sexual contact are slim, especially before a meditation course where he will be abstaining from sexual anything. I’m staying over Thursday to drive him to that on Friday in the early afternoon. BaGG is purely social; no pink parts. By the time he gets back it will be a couple days shy of a month that he’s taken any of my holes, or wanted me naked. Or. Wanted me.

I am trying to at least get some play in during that time. The Dominant that I played with last Master’s Den reached out and suggested getting a cup of coffee or a drink and I jumped at it. I like him. There’s chemistry, and he’s vetted by my roommate. He’s safe, and knows how to hit the way I need, and made it no secret that he was attracted to me. I’m excited to see where it goes. I’ve also reached out to Grey to set up a long-overdue date, along with another friend that used to be a roommate. He understands the social anxieties well. We’ve had a not-a-date planned for eons, and while I don’t quite get a lady boner for his body his mind is INCREDIBLY sexy. I’ve been seeing Chris more often lately, and while we don’t have a sexual relationship I enjoy his company a great deal. I even have spent a bit of time with Cal, nonsexually of course. He’s safe, wonderfully safe. The way I figure it he and I are both jaded enough and have fucked up enough with one another enough times to realize that friendship needs to come before all else, and that our friendship is good and rock solid and REALLY not worth fucking up for a fuck. Even if it’s a good fuck.

I am not hermiting. I am actually trying to be more social than I have been in a long time and fill some needs that can’t wait around forever. It’s just. None of them are Daddy. None of them can be Daddy, nor would I want them to be. Every person whose company I keep are unique and different in their own ways.

And. I miss Daddy. I also love him, a lot, and that sometimes means putting someone else’s needs and, especially limits, before your own.

I can’t force him to miss me or want me. Nor would I want to. I can’t ask him for more than he’s willing and able to give, and for now sexy anything seems to be on that list. It hurts, I’m not going to lie. It hurts like a motherfucker when it seems like my metas are getting their slices of pie and I get half of mine. But. That’s not my call to make. I will cry. I will process. I will let myself be sad when I’m alone and try to be in the moment and enjoy what Ryan can give me when I’m not. I will not think about my metas, or what new pretties are joining the roster, or my place. I will drive him to his meditation course. I will go on more dates and try to social more. I will let myself feel the feels but not be swallowed by them. I will hope that eventually Daddy will have time and space for me, but not put an expectation on when that time and space will be. I will give what I am allowed to give and not ask him for more than he is willing to give me. I enjoy being the one that has keys to his apartment, and the one he calls on for rides or to watch his cat. I enjoy being the partner that does the most of the day to day with him, even silly things like laundry or grocery shopping. Hell, I enjoy doing his dishes. I will do my very best to focus on what I do have, and what is fulfilling me in the relationship between Ryan and I rather than miss what is lacking at the moment.

There are going to be a hell of a lot of growing pains. I predict that multiple crying spells will happen. But I have headache meds for that shit. I will do my very best. Ryan is a good human. I am lucky to have him in my world, and even the best relationships sometimes have bumps.

Sometimes the bumps knock you off the road for a little bit. Eventually, you get back on.

I am not okay, but I am confident that I will be in time.

Yours, as always





It started Saturday.

I was exhusted. I had started my new job on Wednesday, and they had asked me to work Saturday instead of Thursday just as I got the confirmation for a cleanup shift on Friday at the Citadel.. I had managed both. Work at 9 on Saturday after getting back to my apartment at 3 a.m.

I caved. And I drank a Red Bull to get through the day.

I’m not supposed to have Red Bull. It’s a rule from Ryan. For the most part I’ve managed to swear off of them relatively well…but every now and again I cave.

I made another mistake. After drinking the energy drink to power up the fumes I had left, I caved and told my Daddy. What’s the point of rules and rituals if you don’t follow them? I broke the rules. I new I would be punished for it. I expected it.

Daddy took my orgasms away for a week. By the time he gave me my punishment it was late afternoon. I was exhausted, the drink having worn off, and cranky. Daddy had a date later in the evening that would be a sleepover. I was..fuming, and a little hurt. Ryan had promised me that he would let me cum at least once when we played together in person.. I cum incredibly easily, and almost always will go over that lovely edge when he growls at me to ‘cum with Daddy’. I had asked for a comprimise, reminded him of his promise… and didn’t hear back until Ryan was heading off to bed for the evening. I tried not to stew, to shake off the hurt I felt, and go with the flow of the day. He ended the day by saying he was sure that a compromise could be reached and we would talk about it tomorrow. I went to bed smiling and feeling better, looking forward to a date the next day.

I got to Ryan’s long after his date from the night before had left. She’s a sweet girl, and has always been kind to me…but she triggers so many insecurities in me. She’s gorgeous, and the amount that Ryan WANTS her is palpable… and at times, has made me feel invisible. I don’t think I’m ugly. I know I’m pretty…cute, even. But I know my brand of sexy isn’t exactly Jessica Rabbit. She… well… she gets the man that won’t touch my leather vest to wear those natural sheep condoms so they can fuck because she’s allergic to latex. The longer Ryan and this lovely creature have played, the more I’ve noticed Ryan going soft mid fuck, Ryan not initiating play, Ryan not kissing me hello…and I’ve wanted to hide. To cry. To kick myself and tell myself I’m seeing things. That comparason isn’t good and that there were reasons for all the things that had nothing to do with the pretty. Fatigue, a packed schedule, the wear and tear of helping me through the holidays.

We went grocery shopping, and he wasn’t himself. Ryan often mentiones how my emotions are visible on my face, even when I tell him nothing’s wrong. He’s very similar. For a lazy afternoon leading to a meditation in the evening, Ryan seemed incredibly tightly wound. I was cooking him dinner in an effert to save him money and do something special for him, and was grabbing food for the meal while he did his normal grocery shopping.

We got back to his apartment and I jumped into prep, beginning to pull out mixing bowls and pots. Halfway through reaching through a baby pot Ryan comes over to me and touhes my shoulder. “Before dinner I have to tell you something kind of heavy.” I had a bowl in my hand, was cornered in his kitchen between him and a wall, and literally had nowhere to run.

He ‘accidentally’ had unprotected anal sex with his play partner. It wasn’t talked about. It’s not something they plan on happening again. He felt horrible for fucking up and he understood if this changed how I looked at him. He was so sorry.



Just. Out of the blue. I didn’t know how to respond. I asked if I could start cooking. Cooking helps. Creating helps. It lets me process and think.

He had me hug him first and went out for a smoke. I cut up mushrooms and cried in the sink, then did my best to pretend I was okay when he walked back in. Ryan felt like crap already, I could see that. I didn’t want to make it worse.

Over and over, as the evening went on I chewed on the thought in my mind. How does one ACCIDENTALLY have unprotected anal sex? It’s not like it’s an easy slip of ‘oh you’re grinding, ooops it slipped in once’ like with vaginal. That.. requires prep. And lube. And toying. And plenty of time to stop and put on a damn fucking condom.

I didn’t have much of an appetite for dinner. I tried to joke and goof around and be normal. I accepted Ryan’s appologies and extra attention as he pet me, taught me simple rope tricks, gifted me with rope he wasn’t using… tried his best to make what he could up to me and show I mattered. All the while my brain kept fucking with me. ‘He could have stopped. He didn’t. He should have stopped. He didn’t. He just. Did it. He wants her so badly that he didn’t give a fuck and just…did it.’

By the time Ryan left for his meditation I was an even split of angry and wounded. There have been several times that I’ve tried dressing up and doing something special for a date with Ryan and… he just didn’t have the energy for play. And the more that happens the more the sexy times part of me hides, thinking it has to be me. I don’t have enough za za zoo to peaque his interest when he’s tired. With her, the za za zoo is so damn strong, the desire so damn strong, he threw logic out the window completely. He stopped giving a fuck and just wanted to fuck her. Insult was added to injury when I saw that there were her special condoms left in his apartment.. It’s not like it was bareback or nothing. It was a conscious choice.

I don’t have any say in who Ryan sees, nor would I really want to control my partner in that way. But I am allowed to feel what I feel. I actually trust her for the most part. She is sweet and has always been open and kind with me.

I don’t trust Ryan with her. I no longer trust him to think with more than his dick around her. There’s always been a chase element with her. When they started seeing one another she was owned and collared by someone else. The more Ryan got told ‘no’ the more he pushed back, the more he wanted. The idea of them having another overnight anytime soon makes me really, really uncomfortable. And I hate that.

I hate that, right now, I don’t fully trust him not to do it again.

I stewed. I cried. Ryan’s cat came up and snuggled me as I debated the idea of just leaving for the evening to lick my wounds in peace.

This wasn’t a situation that I was going to be able to fix overnight. I knew that. There was.. a lot of hurt, and quite a bit of betrayal the more I thought about it. I hurt, a dull ache in my chest I attempted to ignore, and I continued to mull over everything.

I wanted to feel wanted by Ryan… that would definitely ease some of the hurt. I wanted his hands on me. I wanted him biting me, and pulling my hair, and fucking me and filling me with cum and re-establising that link between he and I. I wanted him… As corny as it sounds, that desire became a bit of a balm on a lot of the hurt. Just show me that you still want me. That this slip didn’t happen because you want her so much more and I’m just the thing that’s… there, doing the dishes, cooking dinner, running errands and following rules..

When Ryan got home I let myself appreciate how handsome my partner is. I kissed him, and nuzzled, and bit, and crawled into his lap and turned my best sexy on.. and honestly it felt fantastic. Ryan hasn’t kissed me like he did tonight in.. a long time. It was an epic makeout session. I LOVE making out, and it’s something we almost never do anymore. He had my panties wet and my toes curling, and I tried to be as forward as I could manage.

“I want my Daddy. ”
“Please do bad things to me, Daddy.”

He tickled, touched, and kissed me. I slipped from his lap to the floor and he carved up my back and front with knives I had given him eons before. He called me a beautiful canvas, showed me the gorgeous marks now on my back, and I melted.

I tried to be forward again and pawed playfully at his pants, wanting to play with my lollipop.

“I don’t think I’m up for that type of play tonight, sweetie.”


Immediate shrinking, recoiling, a fresh wave of pain and rejection. So you’ll fuck the pretty thing senseless without restrain but there’s no energy for me?

“May I explain why? Guilt. Shame.”

It didn’t make the hurt stop.. but I understood more. I said I wanted to do the things for the reconnection. I didn’t share how badly I wanted to feel wanted. That I wanted him face fucking me, and pulling my hair, leaving bite marks all over me and fucking me senseless before filling me with his cum. I had reached my limit on vulnerability. I couldn’t take another blow to the ego.

At the request for reconnection he smiled and grabbed me by the hair to lead me into the bedroom. I let out a breath I didn’t know I was holding as he pushed me onto the bed and wrapped his hand around my throat.

For a little while it was glorious. Rough grabs, pressure on my chest, pain and power and tickling and laughing. I waited for him to pull off his shirt, to crawl on top of me; for that pleasant, safe feeling of him surrounding me.

He tried to be very sweet. The touch changed to gentle, tantric tracing of my face and body. I wanted to scream. Any other day it wouldn’t have been beautiful.. but I NEEDED MY DADDY. I needed my Daddy to take what was his and make me feel wanted. He was trying to make me feel beautiful and spoiled…and sweet and gentle just started feeling like pity and guilt.. which then turned to shame on my end. My body language changed. I felt myself curling into a ball as Ryan continued to touch me. I knew he was trying to help, didn’t want him to feel bad. Knew that any other day his tender touches and attention would have me feeling like a goddess. That him saying he wanted it to be all about me would make me feel like his spoiled princess. But I could feel myself crashing horribly.

I ran out of the bedroom when given the chance to and grabbed the one thing that I thoght would keep me from crashing. Ryan’s kindle. He had read to me on a previous date, a fantasy novel that we are both reading, and I felt soothed and protected; like the best place in the world was in Daddy’s arms listening to his voice. It relaxed me almost instantly before, and I hoped it would at least calm me down for a little bit.

I curled up into his side with my favorite stuffie and slowly settled, lulled by the cadence of his voice. The sad was there, the rejection was still there, but the tears stopped. My breathing returned to normal, and for a couple chapters I relaxed in his arms.

We made a date for Tuesday and I left later than planned. He sent me a text on the way home thanking me for not running away. The only way out of pain is through it. To run away from pain is to run directly into it.

This. Hurts like a mother fucker. But Ryan is one of the sweetest, most loving souls that I’ve ever had in my life. He’s normally attentive, fiercely protective of me, and constantly sharing knowledge when he has it. I’m not going to bolt for something he admits to being a major fuckup. He knows it was wrong. He is remorseful.

But..it was a fuck up. And right now, everything hurts.

It will settle. We will talk more and it will get better. It was a mistake. and I know that.

I just wish I could stop crying.

yours, still alive