It always happens this time of year.
Fusion is approaching. This will be my third year going, and my second anniversary with Chris. I find myself… more unsettled than ever.
Technically I have four partners… I joke that I have four partners and a complication.
The first is my Sir, Chris. I’m proud of us for making it two years. There have been some… severe bumps and nightmare metamours along the way, but we’ve still managed to be a thing. I enjoy our D/s dynamic, and I find great comfort in the ease that has always existed between us when we spend time together…but at the same time I have felt more and more ‘friend zoned’ lately with him.. That spark, that desire that once had him frantically running to a 7/11 to buy condoms so that we could do it in my childhood bedroom just… hasn’t been there lately. I sleep in my dog bed, which I love, but it leaves me… wanting when I know that another partner gets to sleep beside him at night, and frequently. I’m fighting the ache of displacement with him, and honestly hope that Fusion will ease some of those aches and reinforce our dynamic. Fusion has always been good for us.. I am hopeful it will be that way again.
Then there is Grey… We are fantastic when we are together. It’s just.. The getting together part that is hard. I think the last time I saw him was around March.. I can’t even remember at this point. It’s on both of us. My schedule, his crazy life with his awesome life. Poly can be complicated, especially when you throw in the demands of work and home. I miss him, more than I’m probably willing to admit out loud. I miss his touch, him growling in my ear.. his hand wrapped around my throat while his other sneaks between my legs and..
Gah. Rabbit hole. Sorry. Summation, I miss Grey. He doesn’t even know Ryan is my Daddy; it’s been so long since we’ve seen each other…
Ryan has the patience of a saint with me at times… Easily the most emotionally accessible of my partners, he’s also human. For some reason days when I get overloaded tend to allign with the same days he is, so the few moments when I would let myself go, “I need my Daddy..” just don’t happen. I don’t let them. I can see him balancing me and my meta best he can, as well as trying to make room to date others… and he tries. He does. There are times when I just feel… forgotten. Like my meta’s shadow. Part of it is because I am the second parter. Secondary or not, I’m entering a dynamic that’s already been established, and that can be hard. She had dibs on certain days of the week long before I arrived, meaning less time for me off the bat. I’m… scared of time right now, with Ryan. I disappear for two weeks on the 18th, and then by the time I get back he’s off on a meditation retreat. I’m scared our dynamic will fizzle while I’m gone, especially when I’m off to something like Fusion. I can feel my emotional walls going up; can feel myself bracing for the inevitable letdown that my brain is convinced is going to happen. I don’t want to shove my Daddy away… If anything I want the opposite.
And then there is Ace, a partner I haven’t talked about on here. He and I have the loosest D/s dynamic.. We’ve also been on and off for almost a decade. I credit him with poking my kinky side before anyone else. When I was sixteen he and I started talking, and though there were gaps in-between he and I have never fully lost touch. Ace is currently where I was last year; dealing with the recent death of a primary relationship, and slowly gaining ground back to peace and emotional health. I’m grateful to have such a sweet, loving creature in my life…but he’s 3,000 miles away most of the time, works opposite hours of me, so that I am sleeping when he is awake and vice versa, and has so much on his own plate that tackling mine as well would be some sort of cruel joke to play on him. I won’t do that to him. It’s easier to try to help him than to try and decode my brain squirrles.
There’s my complication… the same one that’s been there for a year. James. We finally had a fundraiser for him, a week ago. For a single night I saw a James I had not seen in a year. I saw MY James. Sweet, and open, and loving, and willing to go to the deeper, darker areas that we don’t touch to keep the peace. I got my hopes up that maybe, just maybe, we were making progress… I’m not naieve enough to hope for a relationship right now, but I felt this rush of hope that maybe we were to the point where we could negotiate a scene. I wanted to kiss him, hug him. And he let me. And then he snapped back like a rubber band so hard I got whip lash. It’s been a while since he’s gotten me to cry.. Both last Wednesday and Friday he managed it, lashing out at the only safe person to do so to… My James, who does not do emotions, had to deal with a lot all at once. He’s compensating for it. I know that. But still… Godde does it hurt.
Five wonderful people. Five very different dynamics with their own separate challenges… and no anchor. That’s where I struggle. There’s no main, safe person to go to when my emotions become too much. No one to cling to to bring me back when I begin to drift away. I could reach out to Ryan, or even James..but Ryan has been so overwhelmed lately… and he has my meta. James… he overwhelmes himself, and I’m lucky to get an answer from him most days. Ace tries. He tries so hard..but my dark days are… bad. Dark. And with him trying to get over his own I don’t want to infect him with mine.
So here I sit, feeling more along than I have in a while despite all these amazing, loving people in my life. I still reach up to my bare neck and sigh, missing what used to be there; knowing that I’m not at a place where I could have that again right now. I miss the anchor of being someone’s, and that fear exists that no one will ever want me to be theirs again. That I will find all the other pieces of my puzzle.. except for that last one that makes me whole.
I try not to dwell, and to be grateful for what I have…but there are nights like tonight when I am truly lonely. My beloved roomate is curled up with her primary, more content than she has been in days because he’s here. I’m on the couch, restless at 2:30 in the morning and unable to motivate myself to sleep alone yet another night. There are these broken, jagged pieces of myself that cut away at the parts of myself that I thought I had built up… The parts that want to be a kink educator, that shine at things like Bondage a Go-Go and Citadel events. I am the little thing that does tours, and leads discussions, and is always there to get that last clean up shift to make sure that everyone gets out of the Citadel on time. I’m good at it.. I think..maybe.
Fusion, as beautiful as it is, tests me. It’s complete immersion into this world of kink for a solid week straight… and it’s a lot to take. I find myself looking at it similarly this year as I did my first. I feel..disconnected from it, unsure, overwhelmed at the idea of being gone so long and at what I will see and experience there. I don’t know if I’m open to new partners, or pick up play, or exploration with others as I have been in the past. I am freyed and covered in battle scars. You have to cut mighty deep into me to cause either pain or pleasure..and it’s hard for a stranger to get there in a week. I wish.. I wish I had some direction. Some marching orders to follow. Go to these classes. Wear these outfits because it will please me. Get pictures of yourself doing this. I miss that.
I’m going into camp with no plan or goal in mind… I hadn’t even planned on going this year. I’m going because Chris made it happen. He wanted me there, and there I shall be… but my walls are so far up with him as well. I don’t know what I’m doing, or how to make this feeling of being lost go away. I feel as if I am adrift in the middle of an ocean, miles from everyone. Unreachable. Eventually a boat will find me and fish me out, or I will drown.
And if I drown.. does it really matter? There are echos in the back of my mind. Yes. It does. No. It doesn’t. The argument as to which is the truth.
So… adrift I shall remain, in a sea of emotions that I don’t understand right now, and don’t quite know how to sort through. I suppose this is how one learns to be their own anchor. To not need anyone.
I should probably sleep.
Relationships go in cycles, or so it seems. At least, mine always have. Those who are meant to stick around in your life cycle back around in one way or another.
One of those that has cycled back for me is Cal, the person who started all of this. I still chuckle when I think about how I was when I started this journey. Monogamous, green, terrified of pain. Spankings were far from enjoyable for me and knives terrified me.
Now, most of that is the opposite.
Cal and I have danced around each other for years now… and we’re still dancing. It’s never been the right time. Things have always gotten in the way. He hasn’t been available. I haven’t been. And so, I swallowed the bits of desire that remained after his last breakup and told myself, over and over and over, I would be a safe person for him. I would be a friend.
What I didn’t factor in was that nothing about Cal is safe. At least for me.
I have several people that have always been kryptonite for me, just on a visceral level. James is one of them. He gets to me on every level. His voice, his smell, his presence… Cal is another one. When I was his mentee I would sleep in tee shirts that smelled of him. I think I still have one of his old green shirts stashed away that I sleep in on colder nights (I don’t normally wear shirts to bed. I get strangled by them). He figured out how to fuck my mind before he ever got to my body, which hardly helped things when I was first starting out. And he was protective of me. All things that give me a lady boner.
He started coming to BaGG, on and off, a couple of months ago. He saw James again (James doesn’t like him), met my Daddy and my Sir. BaGG… is a work in progress for Cal and I. The first time he got me shit faced on scotch and left me before saying goodbye and after making out with me. Several times. And telling me that he would be there long after James was gone, and we would end up together because we’re both too broken not to. The second was similar to the first, only I was more sober and stuck him on a stool for the last hour of the night to sober up while I rubbed at bruises he left on my neck. He’s into breath play, which is something I also love, but when he’s drunk his hands are very rough. And I was afraid.
Still. There had been kisses. And hugs. And he called me little one.
I found myself protective of this man, broken again by a relationship that I saw going down in flames long before it did. And I found myself terrified of him as well. He apologized for the incidents and promised to try and manage the alcohol more. He’s hurt, physically, and not eating as much as normally, and so alochol is affecting him more strongly than it normally does.
There is a war in my head when it comes to Cal. There is the good, protective friend that kinda wants to guide him back into our local scene and then there’s the submissive chomping at the bit to prove herself to him. To show what he missed. It’s the submissive that gets me in trouble, in ways that I didn’t see coming. And it’s the submissive that still.. can’t help but react to him. Smell. Voice. Presence. ESPECIALLY when he milks it. When he purrs my nickname after too many drinks and I tell my brain to shut up for a minute so I can enjoy.
He’s gotten better. We both have. Thank godde for time, firm boundaries, and bunnies. He has a new love that has slowly wrangled a lot of the darkness he has been carrying..and it means he’s behaving a lot more. And she is lovely.. Full compersion here. She’s the right age and the right temperment to actually be GOOD for him after his string of lemons, and I’m happy for him. I truly, honestly am. I just…have brain squirrels.
Last week, Cal came to BaGG. I was freshly back from a trip east and felt like absolute shit. I now know I probably had a fever..but I was determined to go. My friends wanted to see me. My meta wanted to talk about her trip and mine. I wanted my time with James. I was getting there.
I spent a good portion of the night on my knees, which were so sore they could barely support my weight. I didn’t think about this, until Cal saw me do it in the back of the smoking alley.
His hands were in my hair before I could warn him not to. He pet me gently, and I purred. Daddy was right in front of me. I knew it was safe, and Cal kept saying it wasn’t sexual. He was careful not to call me my nickname. I was careful not to call him sir. We were Cal and Rene and it was just a few head pets when I was in pain.
Later in the back room, he hugged me hard. He gets emotional after a few drinks and has a habit of thanking me for still being around.. which I appreciate. The hug captured my head. He had his hand in my hair and pulled, hard. I whimpered and reached for Daddy’s shirt, tugging just as hard. It was a signal we had agreed upon earlier in the evening that I would do when I was scared. Daddy interviened, gently pulling Cal off of me while my meta calmed me down. I blamed the last double he had and tried to shake it off.
It’s just with alcohol that I find myself on edge with Cal. When four or five drinks are removed he’s a safehaven. I crashed at his place after a play party last weekend, grateful for the couch and a day when I didn’t have to pay a bridge toll in order to get to work. He hugged me hello and I smelled him and immediately knew cuddling was out of the question. I put a big, fat blanket between he and I on the couch until he went to crash for the evening.
The next morning I tried to sneak out, dressing quickly for breakfast with Chris and scampering out the door. I dressed quickly before tossled hair and a furrowed brow stumbled outside, slightly confused. He was adorable. Bits of me melted that had been holding firm, and I smiled. He hugged me goodbye a beat too long. A dangerous beat. I wanted to kiss him.
But. I also want his head on straight. I want him established with his new parter. I want him happy and mostly whole. I want him to know that I am safe, and stable, and honestly pretty fucking close to poly saturated right now. I want to see more than one BaGG in a row without me getting scared of him physically harming me.
I want time, that lovely balm that heals all things, to finally decide the course for Cal and I. I keep telling myself that we are going to be friends. Friends are safe. Friends are good.
And all my instincts keep wanting more.
Yes, Cal is my teacher from a world ago, but lately we’ve been teaching each other. We talk daily, reading one another and keeping each other in check. For now, this is healthy.
I don’t know. Time will tell. Time always tells. For now, I have brain squrrels and he has a bunny. And this is how it should be.
So, what have you got left to teach me, teacher mine?
She wanted to own him, for him to want to own her, but he tread lightly around her. He didn’t want to mark her. She wanted to be branded; a red, raw wound.”
-The Piano Teacher
‘In an Open Relationship since May, 20, 2015’
“WHAT THE FLYING FUCK.”
It was the cherry on top of an overly-saturated emotional cake today, full of feels I am still processing. I agreed today to walk into a situation that will end up likely breaking a large part of me and force me out of my community for a while. It will be the catalyst to something that I have been chewing on for a while. Facebook just took the time to remind me that even when I think the ghosts are gone.. sometimes I miss a spot.
The status wasn’t linked to James. That has long since been gone..but it was there. Our anniversary staring at me. Mocking me, as the loose end that said ‘you haven’t walked away yet’ while his details say single. I can’t do that. I’m not single. I have partners, though no primary. I can’t draw that clean line like he can..but has it ever been clean?
We’re getting James a car. The wheels are in motion, no pun intended. It’s what I sat down to figure out today. Will it be possible. Can it be done? Yes.
This passed weekend I watched him break. Again. I saw him on Friday at a play party and barely recognized the stubborn man I know and love. I saw… a broken, exhausted shell of a man that is so far beyond the reach of those who love him. I was afraid. Unsurprised, and afraid. I asked if he wanted a ride home, and of course he said no. He can get himself home. I wasn’t surprised when he posted a status the next day saying that he was going into full hibernation mode and would be back in a few days. He needed it. I knew that, watching as an outsider looking in that knew way too much about him. I don’t have a right to know anymore, but I do. I know his body ticks. I know the look he gets when he’s hit a wall.
I can’t watch it anymore.
There’s a selfish element. I realize that I can get certain gears rolling for him, connect certain people together, that others can’t. It’s why I’ve been pulled in. I also realize that in doing this, my usefulness to him will be removed. I’m his ride. Removing that factor severs our necessity in one another. It removes a huge way in which I passively serve him and reduces our interactions purely to choice.
I’m not sure what either of us can choose. Will choose. But I would rather give up the choice to be around him than watch him kill himself. I… can’t. I love the asshole. To actually be permitted to pull my resources and do some good with them for him… It’s one last hurrah. The last act of real service I can give him before I am completely rung dry. Before I am used up emotionally and break myself.
After the meeting today I came home and let myself trip back down memory lane, digging into the Dark Odyssey photo albums. I let myself look at the old shots he’s taken of me, vs the ones he takes now. I let myself register the disconnect and distance. I found the Facebook slip and while it stung on top of everything else I feel relieved to have remedied the error. I know I’m going to put way too much into this, both time and energy… and then I will finally rest. I will walk away, explain why, and see what happens next. If he comes after me I will honestly be shocked. If he notices what I’ve done I’ll be doubly shocked. I don’t expect anything in return for all this. And I know I’m being way too vague in this entry, but I can’t talk about details.
I have to do this. One last time.
And then… I will probably disappear for a while.
I don’t have a choice. I won’t disappear from here. I’ll still have my partners… but James and I are so tightly entangled. I fear after he gets his wheels..even before, now.. that entanglement will become a strangle hold. If it hasn’t already. I will suffocate under the weight of our connection, unable to move forward and forbidden to go back. Whether I go or stay, it will break me..it’s just the damage that must be calculated. The recovery time. The risk and reward.
I will step back from BaGG. From the Citadel parties I love.. I know the ones he works. The ones he doesn’t. I won’t cut myself off completely from the community but…
If I am useless and unwanted, I need to hear that. If I am wanted and needed, I need to hear that. And I don’t know if I ever will.
So now I lay sleepless on my couch with a snoring dog and a cat desperately trying to flatten my chest, attempting to see which end is up.
I have started and stopped so many posts over the last few months… and apparently accidentally published a couple when I shoved my phone in my bra or some such nonsense.
Life happens. I am a flawed human.
I am also currently wide awake at 1:29 in the morning thanks to some coffee I had at 9:00. Sitting in my parents living room in New Jersey. Letting the weight of 2016 hit me.
It has been one hell of a fucking year. Every time I think to write something new appears. And so I get stuck.
When I was being mentored, I was tasked to write 200 words a day. These days I’m not tasked with much. It’s easy to get overwhelmed with life. To let myself get away with the little white lies I process through when I write. Bad habit. Old habit.
I remain unowned and uncollared.. and no clearer in what I want to do than I was six months ago. I still reach up to touch my neck from time to time and feel the emptiness there. It’s an emptyness I struggle with… because it truly is self-imposed. James and I are still not together. We’re still working on.. what I suppose is a friendship. I see him twice a week or so. I drive him home when asked. We talk. We laugh. Inside jokes are slowly returning. But play hasn’t yet.
I don’t have control over that. Over the play. But he still has my collar, and he knows it. I still haven’t asked for it back. And I know it. Neither of us are there. Neither of us.. can fully close that book. We’re in limbo. Can’t close the book. Can’t start a new one. Can’t move to the next chapter yet. We’re still settling, in a lot of ways. It’s hard. I love him to the moon and back, and he knows that. But I want to strangle him about half the time. I crave touch and connection. I want love (who doesn’t really) but… books. Chapters. Pages.
I don’t have a primary. But my damn heart does.
I own and acknowledge that. What I want and what I need right now are two radically different things. I’m not spinstering or anything. I have partners. Chris still exists as my Dominant, though we no longer have a sexual relationship. There’s Grey still, and two regular play partners. Just. Nothing is mind blowing. Nothing is razzle dazzle, za za zoo, dreams of marriage and babies. Every partner I play with or date right now has a primary. And I want to be one (not with any of them!) and I don’t.
So many around me are happily owned. Happily coupled. And there’s this reality that I could easily move on. I could ask for my collar, close that book, and move forward. And if something mind blowing came along, I think I could. If someone swept me off my feet and wanted to claim me, I could walk away from James romantically. I don’t ignore the za za zoo. It’s how I got myself into this mess to begin with.
But. No one has. And I haven’t. And I don’t want to. And so here I sit, watching sex and the city, contemplating the difficult creature that is James.
I never choose the easy ones. Here I go, falling for a man with shattered emotions. Whose feelings settle at a snails pace. Whose brain works so differently than everyone else’s. Who I have to constantly explain. May he never know how much I do, how many fires I put out. He’s an amazing asshole, there’s just so much beneath the surface that other don’t see. He’s my favorite asshole, my butthead, my 5 a.m. Phone call, safe space, and friend. The asshole pushes all of my damn fucking buttons. And I lack the on/off switch he has.
My Mr. Big.
Can I wait years for him to figure out how he feels? Can I hold out?
It’s hard. Balancing between the patience needed to navigate James and the desire to.. be desired. To be wanted. And loved.
To be owned.
I’ve learned throughout this year that my most satisfying play is tied to emotions. I can go deeper, push myself further, when I love someone. I suck at pick up play. I’m a lightweight when I’m not attached. When I love someone, truly love them, I let them break me. Shatter me. Knowing that they will help me pick up all the pieces.
Can I go years without being fully owned again? Without being truly pushed? Truly broken?
I don’t know. Honestly. I won’t let myself get lost in him. He’s not my Master right now. He’s.. complicated. Hurting. Lost in his own world and trying to come up for air. And I love him. But I’m not masochist enough to dive back into that until his life settles some. And mine. My life being more stable would be nice.
My play isn’t completely unfulfilling. I love Chris. I give the most to him when we play. I love Grey as well, in my own way. But. I don’t drown in the scenes. I can get lost in Chris’s scenes and get to bliss… but. It’s just. It’s not quite the same. As I’m sure it’s not the same playing with me as it is with his primary. As far as James… he’s not dating. He’s rarely playing. He’s.. not datable right now. And he knows that. I know that. I think everyone knows that. We.. are complicated. And I know that can mean so many things in the kink community. But saying we’re friends. Fuck. There are so many more complicated components than that. We are not together. I am unowned. And I still feel an invisible tag on me somewhere. I’m sure he does as well, and gets frustrated by it in different ways as I do.
2016 has taught me some hard lessons. It’s taught me that everything ends. And that’s sad. But everything begins again as well. And that’s happy.
Life’s too short not to be happy. And it’s too short to date just to date.
I will wait. I will see what I can learn from this, rather than throw myself into empty rebounds chasing that ownership again. But I will also selfcare. I will remain open to new without discarding the old, and will not let myself be taken for granted. I will make sure what I give I give freely and without regret or bitterness. I will look for what I get in return. I will accept good things. Maybe I will find an Aiden while Big pulls his head out of his ass. Maybe he’s not Big.
So many maybes.
One thing I’m sure of. I’m ready for 2017. I’m ready to feel more, to write more, and to embrace what come next.
I’m still here, lovelies. Still submissive. Still exploring, and learning, and loving.
And I’m not going anywhere
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
Jealousy is a thing.
I know there are some people who claim not to get jealous… There are also some that claim that if you’re poly you can’t get jealous.
The second one is bullshit, and I envy those that can accomplish the first. I can’t. I fully admit that I can’t, even with the poly element as part of my relationship.
James has one friend that is literally everything that I am not. Friend is a very loose term.. They’ve known each other for years and, as it often can be, it’s complicated…
I don’t mean the whole she’s everything I’m not as a dig against myself.. she just.. is.. While I’m a brunette and dark of features she is a blonde and fair. While I am compact she is tall and leggy, and while I have some extra curvage she is quite literally perfectly proportioned. It goes passed physical into the world of skills.. I was excited to show off belly dancing for James..until the first time I saw her move with a grace I just don’t have and went “nope!”. She is also rather skilled as deep tissue massage, something that helps James when he has a sore back that I just don’t know how to do right now.. She is outgoing while I take a while to warm up to people, and has no qualms plopping down in my boyfriend’s lap when I am incredibly skiddish about trying such a thing.. I am incredibly self conscious (especially recently… I can feel clothing being tight on me…) about my size.. I’m worried I’m too big to plop in his lap… and the thought makes me very sad. I want lap time too…
I digress. As I said, James has this friend who is everything I’m not. She is very sweet, very nice, and so for the most part I ignore the triggers she causes in me. I know it’s me, seeing my own inadequacies and girl brain, and that there is a reason he chose me as his primary. There’s a reason he keeps me. But that doesn’t help when the pretty leggy blonde is in his lap and I’ve been begging for lap time for a good month…
There is a routine to BaGG nights, one that I have fallen in to easily. The time before BaGG is my time with James. It’s when we snuggle, do very bad things in his car that could possibly get us arrested (tee hee), talk, and basically touch base before the hecticness of the night begins. Once we walk into Wicked Ground we can still snuggle and often play for the entertainment of ourselves and others, but that’s when the performance starts and I have to share him. Once we enter the club I know he will spend time with me when he can, but the performance continues. It only breaks when I need him… when something’s seriously wrong and I need that point of connection, of eye contact, of him to hold me for just a second or give me one sweet kiss to tell me everything is okay. Once that performance starts there is no stopping it, especially in the club when you add work mode on top of it. I know this routine, I know it well, and I don’t attempt to stop it. I love watching James work. He works his ass off and he’s got a damn good eye. I’ve even learned to love giving him material to shoot… I have a group of friends that I play with at BaGG. I love when he takes photos of me playing and I catch the smirk on his face as he clicks the shutter.
It’s a good routine, one that I don’t think to disturb for lap time or unnecessary snuggles when he’s focused… I play by the rules, afraid to break his focus or be too much of a pest. Afraid of the reprimands he may give. It can be hard, especially when BaGG is the only day that week I get to see him and that hour alone in the car together is the only in-person time I get with my boyfriend.
I am one of those people that finds physical touch to be incredibly healing. I’ve mentioned before that I am a tactile person. If I’m not touched enough, held enough.. Emotionally, I shift. I become more on-edge. Sometimes I don’t realize it.
The other night I got no time with James before BaGG. This happens sometimes, it’s life. Sometimes adulting gets in the way of kinky fuckery. The week before I had only gotten to see James at BaGG itself, and he had barely made it in time. There was no check-in, no snuggles… and the day had not been the easiest. The week had not been the easiest.
I didn’t quite realize how much it had effected me until I looked over and saw Leggy Blonde in a little outfit walking off with my boyfriend just when I had gone over to talk to him about something. I gave them a wide birth, and did what I tend to do when my friends are not at BaGG and I’m not otherwise occupied. I watched.
I watched her curl up in his lap.. Watched him hold her, nuzzle her. Watched them kiss. I was shocked by the amount of jealousy and hurt that I felt. We’re poly. It wasn’t as if this was breaking any rules.
…But this wasn’t play. This wasn’t sex. This wasn’t kinky fuckery, which we both get off on watching the other do.
This was intimacy. Something I can’t ask for once the performance starts, and something I hadn’t gotten much of with him lately. I fought the tears burning the corners of my eyes as I watched, half talking to the friend who had come down to sit next to me.
She, in turn, followed my gaze.
“He picked you, you know. She doesn’t have the girlfriend title. You do.”
That didn’t mean that the girlfriend title would have been denied to her if she had wanted to. I didn’t know. I don’t know their past. I haven’t asked. I’m too afraid that my girl-brain will self-combust and I will become an insecure mess no sir wants to touch, no matter MY Sir.
I could feel my hurt turning to resentment and anger. Before I did something based off of heat of the moment emotions that I would regret, I sent him a text telling him that we needed to talk.. that I needed to talk to him as his girlfriend, not his submissive.
It’s when communication breaks down that you’re fucked over jealousy issues.. And while James and I don’t have great amounts of time to discuss things, when we do sit and really talk we do well. We clear up a lot of miscommunications and issues and leave the conversation a lot lighter than when we entered it..
I entered the conversation pissed and hurt, angry that while I played by the rules someone he has a past with was getting the physical attention and intimacy I craved and, at times, begged for. I went back into the club a bit more reassured about my place. I understood why she was receiving such physical intimacy, and understood why he reserved such intimacy between he and I for when we were alone.. I know when the mask goes on, when the performer goes on stage, I should not try to pull him off. I wouldn’t want to. I love the man behind the mask and know when to watch him on stage, when to join, and when to be in the wings for the intermission.
That doesn’t mean I still don’t want physical attention while in the club.. and that doesn’t fully kill off my jealousy issues. She is still everything I am not. And I am still aching for more touch from the man I adore..
But I can see James doing what he can to squash those issues, as I try to work on the internal triggers in me that cause the issues I have in the first place. Neither of us shut down, which would be the easiest thing to do. We hear the other out. He’s got the patience of a saint with me when it comes to the feels, and it reminds me often how lucky I am to actually be in a healthy poly relationship.
Jealousy happens. We’re only human. It’s what you do when the jealousy spikes that matters.
24) What are the emotions that most directly let you access submission? What feelings do they inspire?
You people do not ask easy questions, do you? Damn.. okay.
The emotions that let me most directly access my submission…
I need to feel safe. If I don’t feel safe I’m performing, I’m not submitting. I’ll moan. I’ll wiggle my ass to get it hit. I’ll go on with the show, like any good performer will. But I’m not submitting when I do that. I’m playing a roll. If I feel safe I’m not focused on the next step in the performance. I let myself go, let myself be, and live in that moment under my partner’s hand.
I need to trust you. Trust is HUGE for me.. If I feel any distrust with someone they’re not touching me, period. If I trust you… if I really trust you… I give myself fully and completely to you. I follow you without question, unless you order me to always question, always look.. And when you tell me that, I trust you even more because you are admitting that you are flawed and will make mistakes and that questioning your actions is okay as your submissive. It makes me want to serve you more.
To submit past a play scene I need to feel cherished.. Desired is fun. Sexy is fun. But I need to be something that you value. Something that you wish to keep safe. Something that you wish to protect.. If I can feel that I’m cherished it goes back to the safety thing.. I’ll let you push me more, take me higher, because I know you don’t want to break something that is precious to you. Only bruise it a little. Wear it in.
There are more nuances, I’m sure… Little things here and there that vary with each relationship I embark on… But those are my big three. If I don’t have that, I can’t play.
Wow… that was remarkably short.
23) Is there anything about submission (yours or what you see in others) that you question, dislike or repels you? Was there a time you questioned or were resistant to your own submissive feelings?
I am a big fan of different strokes for different folks. However, there are limits to this. I believe in the safe, sane, consensual tenant of BDSM.. and while the sane part is up for debate, the safe and consensual are not.
The only time I have questioned another submissive is when they were going into truly unsafe situations… I had a friend at Bondage a Go Go when I started going early on who called herself a pain slut. In all reality she was a heavy bottom, but not a pain slut, and she pushed her body too hard to prove just how much she could take (because she wanted to be the best of all the subs… Subbies you know how this is…). To do this, she would eat AFTER bag and not have any food before, because she believed that it allowed her to take more pain. One night she did this and on top of this took several medications that left her not in her right mind, combined this with alcohol, and then went to go play… The partner she was playing with cut the scene short because they saw she wasn’t right, but it was one of the few times I have gone over and lectured another submissive, as well as her primary for letting her put herself in that situation.
I’ve also met many a young ‘sub’ that was “looking for her Christian Grey.” They are easy to spot in a dungeon setting. Usually younger, dressed to the nines in lingerie and brand new heels, walking around with a bit of a dear in the headlights look. These lost little ones me and a few other experienced submissives will sit down and talk to, and try to explain the difference between Christian Grey and real Doms. It’s why so many of us read the books, so we could know thy enemy and keep young, vulnerable subbies from getting hurt.
There is a difference between a submissive putting herself in danger because she is under some sort of influence (be it alcohol or some fictional character) and a submissive letting her Dominant push her. I have seen a couple scenes that have had me question whether or not an ambulance should be called. You sit, you watch, you wonder, but in those moments you know that an experienced submissive has not had alcohol or drugs before playing, because they want to be fully aware of their body and what is is going through. An experienced Dominant will be able to read their submissive’s body to pace the play out so that even if they’re pushing, it will be something they know that their submissive can take. And if something happens, if something gets pushed to far, everyone knows how to safeword, and will if they need to. You sometimes just have to trust that. And when you can’t, well, that’s what dungeon monitors are for.
You can’t always judge a book by its cover. James and I have made the dungeon monitors look up a few times, because he makes me howl. He will hit me hard enough that the sound of the crack will echo throughout the entire dungeon, and I in turn will scream like a banshee. He pushes me, and I let him push me. Everyone in that dungeon knows we’re experienced. The DMs have seen James for years in the scene, and while I haven’t been around for as long they know me as well. They trust that if I need to, I will red out. And I have in the past, with other partners.
As for my own submission… of course I’ve struggled with it. When my mother told me I could be anything I wanted to be I don’t think she pictured one of those things as someone who craved spankings, floggings and the phrase ‘good girl’. Strong, independent women are not supposed to want to kneel at their boyfriend’s feet.. I struggled most with something that has become one of my biggest kinks. The concept of being owned.
The collar. One of my biggest turn-ons is the thought that someone wants me enough, values me enough, that they want me to be one of their possessions. They want to own me. They will share, but I will be theirs to do with as they well. Coming to terms with wanting that, with craving that.. it took me some time. There is still a stigma to D/s, and to BDSM in general. It takes time to realize that the stigma is just something you learn how to live with.. That it’s going to be part of your everyday life whether you want it to be or not.
It’s a matter of how you live with it that matters. I will never be ashamed of who and what I am. It has taken me a long time to get there, and I’ll be damned if I’m going back… But I’ve learned what to and not to share with people about who I am. Sometimes that makes me sad, that I can only be half of myself with people.
But then I rejoin my people… and I frolic in the dungeon. James makes me scream, and all is right with the world.
Yours, as always
Has your submission increased or decreased over time? Have you ever had to renegotiate your submission due to a change in your feelings or circumstance?
I wouldn’t say it has increased or decreased.. I would say it’s stabilized.
When Cal found me eons ago all he had to do was tell me that it was real for me to be all in. I had wanted it for ages… felt a need to submit that I couldn’t understand and couldn’t name at the time. I was one of those hopeless souls that clung to kinky novels and prayed that something, anything like that existed… And when it did I threw myself in full-tilt. So much so that I think even if Cal hadn’t had a significant other the mentor-ship would have ended. I wanted to swim in the deep end of the community when he was slowly dipping his toes back into the water.
I did… but perhaps not in the most healthy way. When Kane and I were together, we were basically 24/7. I would live at his house during the week while his wife was away and then go back to my place on the weekends. Certain things I loved.. I still love. I would have dinner waiting for him when he got home from work, along with me on my knees at the front door in lingerie. I would clean the house. He would leave me chores to do; exercise, do laundry, etc, and I admit weight wise that I was lighter then than I am now (and no I’m not happy about that dammit -_- But I’m a work in progress).
…I think we loved the fantasy of 24/7, but neither of us were ready to deal with the realities of it.. That eventually he would need to deal with the stress of a failing marriage, that I was too young realistically for him because he could never comfortably swallow that age gab… That I wanted children and he was past that age where that was going to be realistic.
It was a gradual shift. It started with me staying home two weeks and being with him for a week. Then five days. Then four.
Eventually the sleepovers stopped.. His life had become too hectic. There was too much stress at work to try to fit me in. And because he was my Dom, because I wore his collar, I trusted that it would all be okay. We talked about it all being okay. That I loved him and he loved me and that was all that mattered…
… This is surprisingly hard to write… It’s been about a year since things started falling apart. Since the downward spiral began.
I had to renegotiate the entire relationship in my head time and time again, not because I willingly wanted to and it was the healthy thing to do but because I had no choice… He was my Dom and my boyfriend. I had to trust that he was doing things for a reason at that it would all be alright. That eventually we would get back to Disney. In my head I explained away the way he treated me time and time again, something I’m incredibly conscious of now. Dominants are not gods, they are humans, and when they stop communicating they make very bad, very painful mistakes. Kane made a few. He is still my friend…but he very much shattered parts of me. That’s taken a while to heal.
The relationship with James is a different D/s dynamic than I’ve had before.. There is no label, bedroom only, 24/7, etc. I’m not in subby mode all the time. There are times when I am very much, and very happily, his girlfriend. And then he flips that subby switch. He can do it with a look, a tone, a glance, and I’m on my knees with my chest out and my back arched. It’s laced through everything for both of us..because kink is laced through our entire lives. What we do, how we both want to make our livelihoods, is saturated with the kink world, and rather than fight against it and try to create a separate persona we’ve both embraced it whole-heartedly.
Sometimes labels just don’t work.. When you remove some of them, you find the balance.
Yours playing catch up