Tag Archives: multiple partners

Annwnf: A Learning Experience

Poly isn’t perfect. Sometimes, it’s actually really really hard.

I’m just starting the comedown from the first leg of polyinsanity and.. It was not at all what I could have anticipated. Yes, I kept a journal those three days as promised..but a lot of the thoughts written were raw and hurting in those moments, and as much as I adore being the exhibitionist that I am, something I have to keep private.

First off… Annwfn the place.. is unlike anywhere I have ever been in my entire life. The amount of peace I felt from the land itself, not necessarily the people there but the land.. It was beautiful. Freeing. Very few places that have claimed to be ‘magical’ have felt to be so to me.. This was one of them. Yes. There is magic in that land. There is a peace and a calm there that seems to breathe out of the ground itself. I found myself increasingly grateful for it as the weekend went on.

That being said.. My head was not in the best place for the majority of the weekend. I got very little sleep the night before the camping trip. Not from lack of trying. I was overtired from attempting to get everything together… I had taken on some of the responsibility from Ryan so that he could have an evening undisturbed with my meta. I knew what I was doing going in, but I pushed my body a bit too hard, stayed up too late, and my brain would not turn off.

The ride up was fun, for the most part. I made a nest for myself in the back of the car and let my meta and Ryan take the lead going up, responding when I could but mostly letting myself doze and try to recharge. Ryan had worried about me being burnt out from work before the weekend started… My own head burnt me out instead.

Something I learned very quickly this weekend. My own space is important. It rained the day we got there, in a place that I did not know with people I did not know. I can poly well. I’m usually very good at it. I like to share. But there are times when I get overwhelmed, and having time to remove myself from a situation, let myself breathe and process through emotions I’m feeling.. it’s important. It lets me keep the peace in my own head more than anything, and without the room to do so I found myself anxious and jumpy most of Friday night. I breathed through it, tried to logic my brain out of it.

On little sleep I discovered I had little patience, and was more than a little needy (in my own head. I didn’t vocalize these needs, of course. That would have been smart, but I keep tripping myself up with not wanting to ruin someone else’s fun, etc, and so I keep any problems I have to myself). It would be little things that made me feel left out and separate from the other two. Walking out of the room to run an errand and here Ryan introduce my meta as his partner..and running back in to the room too late for him to do the same with me. At one of the rituals there was a chair shortage.. My meta got there first, as Ryan and I had grabbed a short nap and some (much needed, on my end) cuddles. Ryan told me to sit in one of the available chairs, and so I did.. and the chair next to my meta happened to open. They got to connect during the ritual while I was surrounded by a sea of strangers.. Sweet people that I slowly got to know, but still unknown to me in the moment. I just wanted to crawl over and sit at Ryan’s feet..instead I tried to focus on the ritual, and ended up in many ways pulling myself further away from them and isolating myself with my own walled-up thoughts.

I know what it’s like to miss a long distance partner. I know how precious that time is with them.. and I struggle with saying when I’m upset as is, so I kept my mouth shut instead of taking the chances to safeword and pull Ryan aside and talk. In hindsight I should have.. I should vocalize my needs more and explained that I wasn’t okay, but that I would be and I was handling it best I could. That I knew he wasn’t causing purposeful harm and that my brain was just twanging in weird ways. I am trying to get better at finding words when my brain gets stuck.. also hard for me. But it is a necessary thing. Ryan is an incredible partner that can often read me like a book, but he is not psychic. He does need some information to connect the dots and figure out what’s actually going on. Just removing myself from situations so he can continue to have fun was not the smartest of things to do.

That night I didn’t sleep much at all. I went to bed needy and squirmy, craving more touch from Ryan but feeling uncomfortable asking for it in front of my meta. They had compared bruises moments before and I wanted play. Not just play. Touch. Connection.  We were all tired from the journey..it was rainy and gross out. I was irritable from lack of sleep and not up to keeping up with my meta’s peppy pace of talk.. and so I tried to sleep. But my body didn’t like the mat on the floor of the tent, and I had underestimated just how cold it was outside… I kicked off my sleeping bag at one point and, afraid of waking the others, couldn’t get back into it without making as shit ton of noise… so I was awake at 4:30 in the morning.

I dressed quietly and crept outside with my camera, my cell, and a book. Another thing I learned… bring a flashlight next time, and at least two books. Cells go down in Annwfn. It would have been easier if I had been able to text my roommate or call Ace. I couldn’t, and I hadn’t known I couldn’t until the service went POOF. But.. I digress.

Those quiet hours should have been miserable, but in reality they were some of the most peaceful I had the entire time I was on the trip. I wandered to the circle area, still damp from the rain, used my camera bag to keep my butt dry, and sat and meditated.

Everything was quiet. The moon was visible overhead and lit the sky enough so that I wasn’t afraid. There were no jitters, no shivers, and I had a moment where not only did I understand the magick of Annwfn, but I understood my Sir Chris just a little bit more. I suddenly got why he woke up at 5:30 in the morning willingly. Because of the peace. The quiet. The stillness that you can only find just at the brink of day. It quieted a chattery mind for a little while.

Sleep deprivation for long periods of time is a very, VERY bad thing for my brain.. I ended up catching another hour of sleep once I returned to the tent, after my brain calmed down.. and then my stupid alarm went off and woke up the others.. They went to breakfast and I just… couldn’t. I needed to sleep more.. Adding to my anxiety was the fear that I was bringing the other’s down with my bad brain and that Ryan wouldn’t want me to come along with him next time he went to this wonderful place.. I was happy he at least got some alone time with my meta and got to go off with her and have fun.

I was in and out of it for a few hours.. I remember Ryan bringing me food, and me sharing best I could what was going on.. Words were hard. I remember him coming back at one point to the tent and feeling the weight of him on top of me, of him hugging me, and all but purring at the feeling.. There were kisses. I love you’s. That man.. When I let him, he takes incredible care of me.

It’s letting him, more specifically vocalizing that I need him to, that is hard..

The rest of Saturday was..intense in good and bad ways. We went on a ‘walk’ with others that turned into a hike. I could NOT have done it on my own. I’m a klutz, royally, and also terrified of heights. I did not bring sneakers. I was in boots, expecting an easy walk through the property.

The hike took us up and down narrow trails of dirt, soft from the rain. By narrow, I mean that there were maybe six inches of trail after the tip of my boot.. These paths were hundreds of feet in the air. There was no fence or guardrail. I’m terrified of heights.

I tried to backpetal. Tried to run. Ryan grabbed my hand.

I spent most of the time staring at my feet, focusing on not slipping, focusing on the feel of his hand surrounding mine. And I did it. I cried at the end, a wave of panic hitting me as our guide made comments about me doing it despite my fears, but I did it. I completed the whole hike, and honestly I was damn proud of myself.

The evening was… a serious blast from the past for me. It has been about six years since I’ve found myself in the mist of any sort of organized pagan group. The numbers, the way the worked, the songs.. I did not think would remind me so much of the coven I grew up in. Part of me was joyous. I knew the words. I remembered the prayers. Part of me was…triggered, thinking of an abusive high priestess that tried so hard to manipulate my every move.

Paganism used to be a huge part of my life.. I could feel the pulse of the earth without thinking; could connect, ground, and center without a moment’s hesitation. That has not been the case for several years now. The spirituality and beliefs have remained the same. I still feel my Mother watching over me. But the warm, fuzzy feelings associated with magick vanished a long time ago.

The ritual was beautiful, intense…and hard for me. I fought through two panic attacks during the two and a half hours, clinging to Ryan’s hand like a lifeline when he would allow me. Thankfully it was cold out and the tremors looked like shivers… I was hopeful that by the time the ritual was over we could go back to the tent and I could ground in my own way. Touch is huge for me. It doesn’t need to be sexual. Just, that tactile connection. Being held, having my head scritched or my back rubbed. All these things ground me and put me back in my body. Sexual touch and play simply light my fire again.

It didn’t happen. I knew logically that no one had the energy. That we were cold and everyone just wanted to burrow into their sleeping bags and pass out…but Godde did it hurt. Ryan was trying his best, I knew that. But..the pushing off and off and off of play triggered yet another damn attack. There were too many echos, too many memories, and this one was all James. All the times that his body just would not let him play. Play had been scheduled. Play had been promised.. And play just wasn’t allowed. I finally fell asleep hours after the others, when Ryan rolled over and managed to put his leg over me. The pressure and warmth calmed my body enough to finally pass out.

I was…jangled the next morning, is the best way to put it. I needed to talk to Ryan. I did, fairly early on. Being upset and angry at him is…hard. Extremely, and it never lasts long. When I can actually find the words for things we communicate well. It’s finding the words when my brain just doesn’t want to settle. I shared some of my third wheel feelings, as well as the disappointment and the trigger associated to play being put off. I asked that it please not happen again, and vocalized that next time I need some time alone with him..

A lot of it was me being mentally unprepared for what it would be like to be in a place like Annwfn. It’s not kink. It’s not my community. It’s magick. It’s.. a part of my past, with a lot of trauma that I haven’t quite dealt with yet, apparently. I know how to cope next time.. More than cope, make it enjoyable. I know what I need to keep myself emotionally healthy and happy, what to expect, and how better to communicate with my partner and metas. And how to communicate in front of my metas as well, not just tuck everything away for later.

I got the play I craved when we got home Sunday afternoon…and fuck did I need it. Ryan stripped me down, shoved me on to the bed while my meta watched, and touched me. Ran his hands, his nails over my body. That was all it took for me to fully come back into myself. For the last of the anxiety to ease and my brain to go mostly back to normal.. My meta’s participation in the play made me… nervous, at first. She wanted to watch, and mentioned that he would have to talk to her. Part of me had internally growled at that. I needed connection. I didn’t want to forsake that and just get fucked.

My meta is a skilled communicator, has an incredible amount of compassion and empathy, and plays in a very unique way. I have not spent all that much time with her in person..but I know Ryan trusts her completely. And I’m starting to. She asked him questions. About me. About how much he wanted me, how I pleased him, how he wanted me, how it felt.. Things that added to the scene instead of taking away from it. There is a part of my brain that’s always a little self conscious and worries that I am just this adorable little to Ryan..That he doesn’t see me as sexy, or beautiful like he does the others… Her questions quelled a lot of those fears.

After. my meta and Ryan went to grab us food while I started this entry at home, legs too tired to walk. My meta..was not so much herself when they got back, and so after eating I excused myself and curled up in Ryan’s bed. I used the time to call Ace,  communicate some parts of the hard weekend, what I had learned, and what I would need for the coming weekend. Time alone with both my partners. Clear communication when they needed more or less. ..I am blessed with two incredible partners that truly hear me when I need them to, and force me to listen when I need to.

Ryan took my meta to the airport and I let myself take a nap. I woke up to him lowering himself onto the bed, his weight against me, and me wrapping myself around him as he checked in. We talked.. or rather. He let me talk. I finally got to reassure him that the majority of the weekend was NOT HIM. That I wanted to go back.. and he reassured me that we would. That I hadn’t blown my chance and he wasn’t upset at me..

“I need you to here me,” he said at one point when I had been rambling about fears of ruining his and my meta’s good time with my shit. “Really hear me. It is okay to ask for extra when you need it. I need you to ask for it when you need it. Okay?”

There are moments when Ryan blows me away. Where I think he’s reached capacity, I’m too much of a pain in the ass, and he managed to instead prove to be so caring, so compassionate and loving, that I am at a loss for words. This would be one of those moments.

He doesn’t know all my mental struggles.. To be honest it took some time and processing to come up with the right words for what I went through during parts of this past weekend..but Ryan notices a lot. He reads me well, and he cares enough to ease what he can. I thought I knew what compassion was.. and then I met him. I don’t honestly have proper words for how much I love and trust him. I’m grateful every damn day that he’s in my life.

As for now.. my anxiety is ramped up a bit yet again. Ace is on the first leg of his journey out to me. I have the rest of work, and then a couple hours with Ryan to connect just the two of us before I go get Ace. I am all jitters and nerves..but I am not afraid. I have new tools. I have good, communicative partners. I got this.

And I’m sure I’ll have much more to write after this weekend is over.

Yours, the eternal student

-Rene

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My Big, Fat, Poly, Kinky Life


So, one of the reasons I’ve been trying so hard to catch up on all these entries the last couple of days is because the next couple weeks are going to be…interesting.

Or rather, the next couple weekends.
I have an amazing, sweet, spitfire of a metamour through Ryan that is one of his long distance partners. She’s going to be in town starting tonight, and tomorrow her, Ryan, and I are going up to a pagan camp ground for the weekend to celebrate Samhain. This is one trip where I can’t possibly begin to have any expectations about how it’s going to go or what will play out..and I’m excited about the prospect of that.
There are some worries, little brain squirrels I’m trying to quell. I’ve never been in a situation where it’s been such an extended amount of time of sharing a partner. We will be together for three days. That’s three days where I get my Daddy but I don’t. And I honestly requested that. When Ryan invited me on the trip I said I would go on the condition that my time and hers were equal, that the attention was equal..meaning me coming didn’t take away from the attention he would give her. I adore them together. I think she’s absolutely fantastic for him, and brings out some of his best nature whenever they’re together. But, I am human. I do get jealous.
The jealousy… doesn’t manifest in the ways you would expect. I’m not jealous she’s with him.. Not at all. I feel quite a lot of compersion when I think of the two of them. The jealousy is more in that so often when I look at her I see so much of what I lack. Shes in better shape than I am. Her life is much more put together and stable. She’s a better communicator, while I still get stuck when I’m upset or something is wrong.
But..I also know that, for some reason, she tends to do the same thing with me and can have a similar type of jealousy at times. There are many reasons we get along well.
I know that Ryan would hang the moon for her. But I also know that he would shoot up a couple of stars for me. There is.. a nice balance. But it’s still uncharted territory, so much so that her and I each have safewords to use if something isn’t right and we need to talk to Ryan in private, nicknames that we normally wouldn’t use with him to get his attention. Mine is puddin’, as in Harley Quinn in the Joker.. After all, I am Daddy’s little monster and it doesn’t get much more unhealthy than the two of them.
There has been a LOT of preparation for this trip. I expected most of it. Food prep, camping supply prep. Things like that. I didn’t expect the emotional prep, and the amount of care and consideration that Ryan would put in to making sure I was alright and that we got our time together. Tuesday was, of course, Halloween. It was also our last chance to have a private date for about two weeks. It’s not that I’m not going to see him. I’m actually going to spend quite a lot of time with my Daddy in the next couple of weeks.. it’s that I will be sharing him or he will be sharing me for all of it.
Ryan has been teaching me slowly not to have expectations. To go with the flow. To be in the moment. And so, when I requested to spend Halloween with him I didn’t expect a yes or a no. We have a packed weekend, and I would understand if he said no, he needed the night to himself. I will be clinging to Monday night for all it’s worth as my one night of recovery before poly insanity part two begins.. but more on that in a bit. He didn’t say no.. At the end of our date on Sunday he asked me to come over on Tuesday evening.
Halloween is one of my favorite days of the year, and I have my traditions. I eat pizza. I watch Nightmare before Christmas. I requested both these things of Ryan.. He got free tasty Tibetan curry from work that would have been enough to feed us. He still ordered us pizza. I didn’t find out until halfway through the movie that he’s not a huge fan of Nightmare (it’s fairly pervasive throughout the kink community as a staple..my fault for assuming). He put it on to make me happy… and was happy making me happy and cuddling with me. And I have to admit, I was utterly content curled up in my Daddy’s arms, wearing a bat onesie that he got for me (I’m his little fruit bat ^.^) watching one of my favorite movies and sharing a couple small traditions with him.. but that’s not where the prep and care ended.
Wednesday is always a long day for Ryan. He works in the city, drives home, changes, and comes back out for BaGG. Some nights we play. Others, we just socialize with friends. I expected last night to be a socialize night because we were both tired and had just spent time together the night before even though we didn’t play.. I was very, very wrong. Daddy got a new bat. He was very excited to try the new bat. On my ass. For the record, oww.
I didn’t know I needed the owies until they started… didn’t know I needed that connection, that reassurance from him with my pretty, amazing meta coming the next day. I love playing with Ryan.. The level of connection he maintains is unlike anything I’ve felt with others, even James. He knows just the right moments to touch and check in, when I need a push, a “You can take more for Daddy, can’t you kitten?”. I didn’t know that I needed, “Who’s Daddy’s good girl?” I did. The pretty meta is coming. Ryan will be sharing time with both of us. She is his pretty, amazing, creative, spitfire partner. I’m Daddy’s good girl, Daddy’s kitten, Daddy’s poppet and lil love.. They are both important. My Daddy is very good at figuring out what I need long before I know how to vocalize it..
Can you see why I have little hesitations about this trip?
But wait, there’s more!! Oh yes, this is but episode one of my big, fat, poly, kinky life. We get back from the camping trip on Sunday. On Tuesday, I am given a tremendous gift. My darling Ace is coming to visit me for an entire WEEK. After a decade of knowing one another and only 24 precious hours in person together.. My brain can not fully wrap itself around the concept of it yet.
He will be coming with me to BaGG the next night.. It will be his birthday BaGG. He..hehehehe… It will also mean sharing BaGG with him, and him and Daddy spending time together..something that has me THRILLED. And him and James spending time together..something that..has me more hesitant. James does not seem to react to me having partners well..but that’s its own separate blog entry.. For now..focusing on my Ace.
I get him for BaGG, a night of just us, and then that Friday begins Surrender. Me, Ryan, and Ace will all be in a hotel room together, along with one of my kinky sisters and her partner. To say I am excited and nervous… I can’t even tell you. There are visions of threesomes and double topping and passing off and…all the yummy dancing in my head. I am nervous to see how my brain handles splitting time with the two of them, and with the very different dynamics that I have with each man.
Top it all off with Surrender being the anniversary of the first time James and I played, and James being responsible for my pictures there…yeah..there are nerves. There are many nerves. I am curious to see how Ace reacts to my little self, a side of me he’s never seen. I am curious also to see how Ryan reacts to my toppy side controlling Ace, and then the fluidity of Ace topping me.
To add to the insanity, these two men that I love so much that will get to share space with one another have birthdays about two weeks apart. I have plans for both of them.. Ryan knows some of his. Ace has no idea. I get my Ace through until the following Tuesday, and that Monday after Surrender will be a day for him. I’ve taken off, and I plan on showing him my home and spoiling him after he is done spoiling me at Surrender.
It is a lot, me sharing Ryan and then Ryan sharing me back to back..but I have faith in us, as I have faith in my meta and my Ace. I plan on bringing a journal along to each event and writing at least once during each of the days. These entries will be turned into blog posts after. Another new thing, another experiment.. I am hopeful that it will work out.
The cherry on top of all of this is the moment of re-connection and calm. The day after Ace goes back to his nesting partner and his life in NC is Ryan’s birthday BaGG. So, after the camping, the cons, the sharing and the excitement, I get to crawl on a spanking bench in front of my community and take spankings for my Daddy’s birthday. The timing could not be better. 
See you on the others side of all this insanity, readers.
Yours, until then
-Rene

NRE

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New Relationship Energy.

Everything monumental in my life has always started with an “oh shit” moment. It’s just how it’s always been with me.

The big relationships in my life have been a dance of avoidance vs submitting to my own desires. It happened with James, who I felt immediate chemistry with and then hid from for a year afterwards because the amount of chemistry terrified me. It happened with Chris, who I watched scene from afar for over a year before I friend pulled me in to play with him. And now, it’s happened with Grey.

I’ve known Grey for over a year at this point. He was a BaGG regular who disappeared for a time..but when he was there, he and his lovely fiance were two of the people who helped make me comfortable with being at BaGG. They pulled me into a group, a clique before I had a clique, and made me feel safe and desired when there was a sea of people around me that I didn’t know yet. The play with Grey was always…toe curling, but it was never much. I was collared, and I honestly didn’t ever know he was interested in me. He played..plays..it’s confusing with a mutual friend of ours who is GORGEOUS, and his lovely fiance has curves in all the right places. And then there’s me. I never saw it. I played with his partner more than him, and then they disappeared for a bit.

And then they came back. They finally came back, and I was thrilled. And surprised.

That first night that they returned to BaGG I found out just how interested Grey was in me. He’s a vocal one, something I am not entirely used to, and is not afraid to express how he feels. Another thing I am very not used to.  I was upset about something.. I can’t even remember what anymore. He was walking me back inside when I heard him whisper in my ear, “You know I’ve got you, right, little one? You’re mine.”

My knees buckled. In a good way. As I said..he’s safe. He’s not trying to claim the primary spot. But he will claim at least part of me..

The night was laced with play with him; intense play that resulted in some lovely bruises on my chest. There were whispers of all the things he would love to do to me if we weren’t in a club. How he would love to hear me scream around his cock while his beautiful fiance did wonderfully evil things to me from behind… Followed by how he loved me, how gorgeous and beautiful I was. How he adored me.

It was a balm over so many sore areas in my life. And I felt myself melting.

The truth was, I had had a crush on Grey for some time… But the logic of ‘he is my crush and is therefore untouchable’ remains in my warp, twisted mind. Suddenly, my crush was showing he wanted me..in a very big way. I don’t think I’ve ever felt such an overwhelming rush of feels before. It terrified and thrilled me.. Terrified, because love scares the ever-living shit out of me. Thrilled because at least part of me understood the feels were safe with him. That they had always been safe with him.

We started texting back and forth..and realized just what derps we had been, each having feelings for the other but imagining the other didn’t feel the same. We played at yet another BaGG. Finally, we went on a date.

Oh my goodness… It has been so, SO long since I’ve had a first date like the one Grey and I had. I felt that zing, that ‘oh fuck’ zing of this is going to be something. And I cursed internally as we drove to our lunch destination, trying to process all that I was feeling. The last time I had zinged so intensely on a first date had been James..I didn’t know if I was ready for another James, or Chris. Casual play, yes..but this would not be casual, this would be intense.

We’ve spent more time together since… I have neither asked, nor expected intense or emotional. Neither of us did. I don’t think he was looking for a new partner any more than I was..and yet here we are. There is a bitter-sweetness to it. Chris and I have continued to have bumps, where Grey and I have a natural ease when we’re around one another. “I like us”, he has told me, over and over. And I have to agree. I like us too.

The NRE is so strong with this one.. I forgot all that comes with a good relationship. The missing. The craving the presence of the person hours after they’ve left. The fantasies that spring to mind late a night, when I’m alone in bed and left to my own wandering hands and thoughts.. And the play! GODDE, fresh play again! Bliss is the simplest way I can describe the feeling of his hand wrapped around my throat. He has big hands; hands that know how to work and that are not without their scars.

I most certainly have a type.

I have missed new adventures. It feels as if Grey was this piece that I’ve been missing. He’s slid into my life so seamlessly that it feels as if he was always supposed to be here. Of course, this is my partner. And his partner? What a joy she is, and how amazing she has been in sharing the man she is going to marry.

After so much struggling, being in a relationship with good, safe poly where I don’t feel threatened and I know someone isn’t trying to fill James’s spot… It’s a good feeling. I let myself revel in it, and I look forward to more adventures with Grey.

Yours, enjoying the new and the shiny

~Rene

 

Who’s On Top

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Hello, lovely internet world. Yes, I still live. I’ve..been through quite a bit since my silence, and I will get to what I can, when I can as time goes on..but I am back. I hope some of you are still around, and willing to continue to read my thoughts as my journey continues.

I am very much active still in the local San Francisco scene. James is still in my life, though we are..complicated (as if we have ever been simple). I remain unowned and uncollared for now, but I am far from single.

For now, I’m not talking about James. This entry will be about another partner that I’ve mentioned before, Chris.

Chris and I have had our bumps, but even through me being released we’ve managed to stay together. For a time I was..terrified. There are still times I feel unbalanced, not having a primary and remaining in a relationship that would be considered a ‘secondary’ relationship. Right now, officially, I belong to no one. Emotionally is a different story..but I’m digressing.

It was about a month ago that Chris and I hit our biggest bump in the road. One of the reasons being with him was always so easy was that I felt like I was on an even playing field with all of my met amours. For the longest time, Chris preached that he did not believe in hierarchy, and that he did not have primaries and secondaries. There was no worry about who came first. We were all even, and would be what we would be.

For the most part, I get along with my met amours. Some I want to play with. Some I enjoy a sort of sibling relationship with… there’s a kindred spirit feel. I work to maintain these relationships because these people matter to me, and matter to a man that I call my Sir. I enjoy the family feel that I have with the majority of my partner’s partners. There is..one, however, that does not fit this mold.

Emily, my partner’s parter, is a force of nature. She is a polarizing, creative soul that has frustrated the majority of us from the very beginning. She wants nothing to do with any of us, and that (for the most part) is okay. It’s her personal choice and not something any of us can really impact. Not even Chris can. Their relationship has been..turbulent to say the least, and the only time the lack of contact with Emily has bothered me has been when I’ve had nights with Chris a day or two after a drama-filled visit and my partner was visibly distraught. She has effected him emotionally unlike any of the others; the highs with her are the highest for him and the lows are the lowest.

I suppose, knowing this, I should been able to predict what would happen next. I got a call from my partner informing me that he was going to choose a primary, and that it was Emily.

There were many emotions associated with this decision..still are.. I was so angry at first. I felt betrayed. Hurt. Confused why he never communicated any of this to me. We had just had a very intense, connection-filled camp at Dark Odyssey, and during all of it he could have easily opened up to me. Out of all of his partners, I was one that understood hierarchy and the complicated emotions often associated with it. I felt like I had been slapped, backhanded. Not only had he not trusted me enough to open up and tell me what was going on, he had chosen for his primary the most unstable relationship in his life. One that I had seen almost destroy him emotionally multiple times.

Slowly, the other partners have adjusted. I have as well. I am now the closest partner locally that he has. Emily is next, at a couple hours away from him to my half-hour. I see the little changes the most..and some have them have hurt me.

This world of hierarchy is wildly new to Chris, and I know that… and I’ve watched him struggle with navigating it. For the majority of the summer Emily got all of his weekends, which cut off most of the time he could have spent with two partners that were long distance and only are able to see him about once a month each. The bit of time I got with him was almost always good, especially when we were out and away from his place.

The last couple visits to his home, however, have felt like I was on a day with not just him, but with Emily too. The first real blow came when I walked in one day to see an art piece Emily had made up on his wall. Chris has artwork all over his apartment, including mine, and Emily’s was a rather big piece on a wall that had nothing yet besides it. It framed the wall funny, and I mentioned to Chris just shifting the piece over a tad.

He agreed, but only after going to his front door to look at it on the wall. “I want it to be the first thing I see when I walk through the door,” he said. I winced at the words and looked over at the piece I had given him; a painting I had done a lifetime ago that had meant the world to me. I never thought I could give it to anyone. I let it go to Chris because he had worked on me so much, gotten through my armor. Slowly, he had taught me how to love more than one person. That meant so much to met that I wanted him to have the 2D piece I was most proud of making. In one moment, with a single comment he probably hadn’t even thought twice about, he had thrown that out the window.

Another time I had opened the fridge to find it filled with food; a rare sight in the land of the Chris. None of the food was for him. It was all for Emily’s kids, who he loves. Over and over, throughout the evening, he mentioned how much he was enjoying the uncle role and how amazing the children were. I felt like a bitch, staring down at my dinner, upset about him loving something so much that I was unable to touch, or see, or fully understand.

There are many conversations about Emily being his number one, and wanting to be number one with her. Emily getting the most of his time, the most of his energy.

Emily, Emily, Emily.

I felt myself swallowing bitter pills more and more as time went on. Chris, this strong top who is quick to punish me for being five minutes late to lunch, let Emily get away with murder. Rescheduling and canceling things last minute, not showing up to something after a fight when she had made a commitment to, calling and having a fight with him in the middle of a date he and I were having.. More and more, I felt my territory stomped on. And there was always an excuse. If I pulled half the crap she did with him, he would have dropped my ass months ago. I couldn’t understand it. I was so hurt, so terribly sore, and yet even as he bent to her I saw him happy and fought being upset and jealous. I disregarded my feelings, chalking up what I could to a lack of primary and a need for more attention. I was okay, until I saw a photo of Chris wearing a leash and collar.

Chris is a switch, but his submissive side rarely comes out to play. It exclusively comes out with Emily, and I knew this. I was aware of this. But he is my Sir. Selfishly, I didn’t want to see it. I didn’t understand it. I was..disturbed by it. Upset he didn’t give me any warning about it. Angry at the amount of power and control she had over him. Very human emotions.

I asked him to give me a call when he could. He was away, on vacation, and we could not talk face to face. When we did talk I shared what I could about how I was feeling; that I didn’t want to be a bitch and be bitter when he was so happy but that I felt neglected. Shoved to the side. Second fiddle. I am aware that Emily comes first. I don’t need it shoved down my throat. James always came first for me and I tried my damnedest to make sure that Chris was always sure and steady in his importance and his place in my life.

Chris said one very key phrase, and suddenly everything fell into place in my mind about their relationship. Why he gave her so much lee way. Why she could do so much damage to him and why the effects lingered long after a fight with any of the rest of us would have been recovered for. Why he was so greedy for as much time with her as he could get.

“I feel as if I belong to her.”

The moment I heard the words, I felt equal parts pain and understanding. The subby ache inside of me reared its ugly head, and I let a couple silent tears fall. Yes, I knew that feeling well. From the beginning I had belonged to James. I didn’t need a collar to tell me that. He has always been able to touch parts of me that no one else has gotten near.

Chris, as much as he was my Sir, as much as he was a sadistic bastard at times, was not the emotional top in the relationship. He was hers. Emotionally, he was submissive to her.

I had been looking at the whole situation from a top’s prospective. Why was she given special treatment that the rest of us never would have gotten long before she became primary? Why WAS she the primary when she was by far his most difficult partner? Why did he cater to her so much, when so much of what she was would be a deal breaker with anyone else?

Because he was emotionally in service to her, and probably had been for some time. Now, as their relationship develops, he is comfortable enough to be physically in service to her from time to time as well. She is the only one he can do that with; the only one that he can even begin to imagine doing that with.

In a way, I understand. I can call any man who tops me that I respect sir. James remains the only man I have ever felt the desire to call my Master. He is the only one I can be a slave to, as of now.

I don’t know where this relationship with Emily will go. I hope that Chris doesn’t end up hurt, and I’m going to do my best to help him begin to navigate this sort of relationship in a slightly healthier way. There are ways to belong to one partner and still not make the others feel like crap. Partners are partners for a reason. Relationships are hard work. You don’t continue them, especially through conflict, if they aren’t things that matter to you. And I know that, realistically, I matter to Chris. I know he absolutely loves me. I know that I am not Emily, that I do not touch certain parts of him that she touches, but I also know that we have other things in common, and that’s okay too. Other things is different… not ‘not as good’. It’s teaching him how to communicate that (at his request) that will be..interesting.

Poly isn’t easy. But honestly, at this point in my life I can’t imagine being monogamous. Even with the drama, my life is much better with Chris in it. He is a good man, and for the most part a fantastic partner. We’ll navigate this. Nothing is unchanging. Nothing is perfect. Life is change, and development, and growth; and there is so much beauty in that.

Yours, still very much alive and kicking

Rene

 

Happy?

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I’m working on that whole happiness thing…

Today I got this crazy idea. I was driving to job #1 of 2 when I heard on the radio one of those ‘be the blankety-blank caller and win Disney tickets’ things.. Disney tickets? Excitedly, I called, and called, and called..as I drove mind you. I called sixteen times when all you needed to be was caller number 97.

There’s no magic fix button. Relationships are hard. Poly relationships can be even harder. I can’t magically go back to Disney, to that perfect weekend where we just..were. And there were no worries. And he could proudly call me his girlfriend.. I could call him my boyfriend. He could show me off instead of keeping me a secret. We could geek out and listen to Sci Fi audio books on the eight hour drive back.

The first time Smith and I talked at length was the Saturday at Surrender. He sat me down and asked what my happiest memory was. Immediately, my mind went to Disney. To when I was his princess, if only for a weekend.

I’m honestly grateful to Smith, especially lately. Normally when I can’t see Kane I become an extreme introvert. I curl up in a ball and don’t move until absolutely necessary. It hurts too much. Every time I try to recoil or pull away he’s been pulling me back.. in ways I haven’t expected. Smith has a primary partner long distance as well as several partners in his area. I’m… semi long distance; he’s in Long Beach, I’m in San Francisco. I’m starting to think the man has the patience of a saint. He listens..and listens..and LISTENS when I’m missing Kane. He listens to me ramble and tell stories and will say things like “I can’t imagine how he looks at you. He’s so lucky to have you.” And it’s genuine! That’s what shocks me! The man does not have a jealous bone in his body. I’ll call him crying on days when I ache and he’ll listen to my schpele.. and then go, “It will all work out. Of course it will all work out. He LOVES you. You love him.” But it’s not that simple, I protest. “Life isn’t simple” he tells me. “But love is resilient. You don’t take on ownership of someone lightly. From the sound of things you and him were inevitable. It’s not like you two wanted this to happen. It just… did. That can be the best kind of love.”

It’s true..it is. When I curl up in Kane’s arms I breathe better, easier. I wish… I wish I had the ability to ease him like he does me. I am so very worried about him..

The other day, my insecurities were in full force. Nothing is certain right now. Kane has so much on his plate that so much as saying how much I love him stresses him out because it adds obligations to his already full plate.. He has to then take care of me. To make sure he loves me too, etc.. A lot is kept unsaid because of that. I admit, I’ve become guilty of some bad habits lately. Stress eating, comfort eating..yeah.. And I can feel the five pounds I’ve gained. It’s not much, but it’s enough that it’s visible to me.

I was working job #2 and had stopped for a dinner break, thinking nothing of it. I parked, got out, and walked the block to the local kink cafe..and then noticed something very wrong with my collar. A ring that Kane had given me, that normally encircles the band of the collar like a dog tag, was missing. I, as I often do, started crying. I retraced all my steps. I searched the street. I even went so far as to retrace some of my stops from work… nothing. And all I could hear was Kane’s voice in my ear. “Keep this safe for me.” Over. and over. and over. I had failed him, and managed to lose the part of my collar that I love the most.

As I pulled my car into the garage my collar broke off, sliding down my chest and laying in my lap.

I feel naked..unclaimed. Bare. I keep reaching to my neck out of habit to play with the ring and..nothing. I asked Kane what to do.. “That’s up to you” he said.

Smith stepped in halfway through my meltdown. I had left work early and was driving home watching my phone buzz. “You would never hurt him on purpose.” he said. “This was an accident. It wasn’t your fault”

I was careless. It feels like my fault. Every day I wake up, send a morning photo to Kane (the only ritual I’ve never fucked up), and look over at the collar, unsure about how I should proceed. That collar is such a huge sense of security for me. It’s a reminder of who I belong to when I’m afraid…

Afraid of what?

Afraid the man I love will disappear.

I can’t ask him for more..because he just doesn’t have it there to give. He acknowledges this often.. too often. “I’m sorry I can’t be the man you need me to be right now.” He says. Over and over.

I don’t need anything other than to see genuine happiness on his face again.. I haven’t seen him happy in almost two months. Even when I got him for a week after Halloween he was a ball of stress..

I am lucky. I remind myself of that often. I’m slowly digging myself out of financial trouble, starting a new job.. in essence getting my shit together. I have a man that loves me. A family I am extremely close to. A new partner who’s making sure I don’t dissolve into a depressed ball of emo poop. There is no reason to wallow. No reason to be negative.

Part of me feels so incredibly useless because I can’t make the man I serve happy. I can’t fix it. No matter how I serve or what I do there is so much else in his life.. an hour with me is a small miracle to arrange these days.

I forget what nights with him are like.. it’s been so long. I try not to hope when the next night will be. I’ve been clinging to this hope of “Just get through the holidays and it will get better.” Now.. I don’t know..

I’m not going anywhere.. And when he does take me, when he does dominate me.. Godde am I happy. I see a glimmer of the man I’m head over heels for when he dominates me. The weight of the world disappears from both of us, if only for a moment, and we can just be. I can serve, my complete focus on him.. and he can get lost in the dominance. A simple thing like just being held by him for a moment eases all these aches and pains I wasn’t fully aware I had.. Being held by him makes me breathe easier.. When he wraps his hand around my neck, however..that’s when I finally feel relief.

Mr. Smith was originally Mr. Dashing. I changed it in the entry..because the nickname stopped making me happy. When I met Smith, his first reaction to me was to do a double take at my appearance, go “wow” several thousand times, grab my hand, bend at the waist, and kiss it. Who kisses hands like that anymore? And then this dapper gent runs off without giving me his name. GAH. I felt like some strange reversed Cinderella. I thought “Mr. Charming” would be too corny of a nickname and chose “Mr Dashing” instead.

It was a mistake.. It bothered and hurt my Dominant. I could see that every time he brought it up and tried to play it off..and it ended up hurting me when he mentioned he was going to call his secondary “Ms Beautiful.” … After gaining a little weight and feeling like shit for quite some time I didn’t like the idea of someone else being his beautiful girl when I was…what?

BLAH

I fixed it.. I hope. I’ve been fixing a lot of things lately. I’m so fucking tired…

This trip to Boston is so needed. I will be staying with one of my dearest friends from college and seeing three others.. It’s funny. When we met me and two others were single. Now one is in a common law marriage, one is swimming along brilliantly with her boyfriend, one is looking at apartments with her boy, and the one who was originally in the relationship is slowly ending hers after six years.

And me?

My heart is taken. My body is owned. My mind is cared for so that my heart may continue to give as it needs. I have a dominant. I belong to him.

I just want him to come back…

The trip with his dad is coming up in about a week. I’m hoping that will help quite a bit. He told me he wasn’t even bringing a laptop on this trip and I wanted to do a fucking happy dance. …Maybe between my trip to Boston and his trip cross-country we will slowly become happy again.

Please let things get better…please. I miss him so much.. and I desperately want to get back to Disney someday.

I have to sleep. Smith cracked down on my insomnia tonight and did the dom guilt. “Will you try to sleep for me?” FAAAKKKK. There is no saying no to that when you have subby tendencies -_-. Topple that with Kane going “Take care of my Rena.” and you have a Dom guilttrip sandwich. The body therefore must be shut down from time to time to recoup.

Please, Universe, please be kind. Please make life easier for my Dominant. Please make things easier for me in time.. for us. I like us… I miss us… but I will not push for us. Us will come back when it should.. And in the mean while I do what I can to help, which includes keeping myself emotionally healthy… which is partially thanks to Smith for keeping me from being antisocial turtle woman…

Relationships are hard. Poly relationships can be even harder.

Yours exhausted,

Rena

Are You In or Out?

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It’s a loaded question in BDSM, with different consequences for different people one way or the other. When it comes to the community or the scene (note: I said “the” not “a”. “A scene” is very different) are you in or out?

I feel like I straddle the line a bit, between vanilla and otherwise in public. My social life these days is mostly in the BDSM world. My friends are all involved in something kinky or another, a normal conversation involves the word “dungeon” being said at least five times, and I’ve made a permanent divot in one of the big arm chairs at Wicked Grounds from all the nights curled up in it, be it with a book or with friends.

However I have a job that would probably frown on my extracurricular activities, and while most of my friends here know my interest I can count on one hand the ones from collage and further back that know. I suppose they know something of my submissive tendencies. I’ve had them since I was young (things like cooking and cleaning for others before myself, letting boyfriends pick my clothes, the food we got at restaurants, where we sat in movie theaters, etc). But they don’t know about official titles and have no clue I like to go to dungeons and get flogged in my spare time.

Kane is not in the Scene at all.. And in certain ways that is a huge blessing. The relationship between us is just that; between us. The play is somehow more intimate, and we can talk and chat freely when we aren’t in the middle of a scene. Being with him means that annoying cliquey social climbing that seems to have infested the BDSM world is nowhere in sight. Yes, he’s been a Dom for a good fifteen years. But his name doesn’t flow from people’s lips in the community and no one is vying to be his toy or his lover or his sub and edge me out of my spot. His standards are also slightly different as far as protocol goes. He gets off on service and submission, but he doesn’t care if I’m kneeling the right way or know all the proper positions. He’s not worried about having me kneeling silently at his feet while he talks to another dom in public. He cares that I give myself fully when I am with him… And oh do I.

At the same time I am drawn to the social aspects of BDSM. I like dressing up (or I suppose undressing?) and going to the play parties with my head held high, confident in my appearance and in my belonging to this world whether I choose to play or no. I love that outside play is a choice, that everything is about consent. And sometimes I really love to feel my ass warm and sore from a flogging that pushed me to sobbing.

It’s a need in myself I don’t quite understand yet, as it only flairs occasionally. There are times when I crave being strapped to the cross, people or no, and whipped until my legs turn to jelly and I’m flying. I don’t care about fucking in those moments. Just push me. Show me how far I can go; how much I can take before I think of uttering the word “yellow”. Take me to breaking but don’t push me over. It’s a fine line that I only desire to dance over on occasion.

I very rarely crave pain. I’m a service bottom. I crave tasks. Duties. Chores. Homework. Things I can do to please my Dom. The floggings and the beatings are an itch I need to scratch once a month or so… And it seems those opportunities arise at play parties in public dungeons.

Another aspect I love of being in the scene is the close-knit protective community. Maybe it is because I am a submissive, but I have some fantastic Doms in my life who just… Protect. Socialize. Teach. They don’t want to dominate me specifically. Heck, a handful are gay and I don’t have the proper bits to please then if I wanted to! They just… Surround, in a safe, reassuring way, and have explained so much to me over the last couple of months.

This is probably partly to do with my appearance. I look much younger than I am, with big brown eyes and a heart shaped face. I’m also TINY. The threat to someone of my appearance can be very real… And I am starting to notice that in good Doms the instinct to protect submissives is as natural as breathing. They watch out for newbies in the community and make sure they aren’t harmed as much as they can. Some of them put serious weight in the “under protection” label on fetlife and Godde help you if you cross them.

In or out… It’s a balance for me, I suppose. For others it’s different. For some jobs, children, or spouses prevent them from fully diving in to the community. For others it’s just not their thing. Others crave the buzz of people around them in order to enact a scene to the best of it’s potential. Others still will do nothing but flog outside of the privacy of their own bedroom. The extent of how far you are into this world is up to you.

Thank you, as always, for listening to my thoughts.

-Rena