I was having a rough time of it last Wednesday, so much so that I decided that going to BaGG that evening would be too much for my fatigued body.
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
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.
There is a lot about my various kinks that I have embraced over time. The further down the rabbit hole I go, the more I discover about myself. Some of it stopped me short when I realized it was a part of myself… That there is an aspect of myself that is very much a slave to the proper Master, that I just can’t do pick-up-play. That there is a part of me that is a pain slut when I’m in the proper mindset.
That I very much have a little side, and that that little is sexual…
My first discovery of my little side was with Smith…and when that blew up and bit me in the ass my little went into hiding, DEEP hiding. That aspect of myself was a core part of our dynamic. He was the first one to expose me to phrases like ‘princess parts’, who made me stop squirming at the idea of calling someone ‘daddy’. He helped show me that taboo can be attractive, erotic… that the fetish could be done in a healthy way and can be incredibly fulfilling. And then our whole dynamic exploded and I was cut out like cancer, my little discarded because his partner was severely triggered by he and I… Not even James could coax her out again.
For two years, my little hid. Unfulfilled. Slipping out in spirts of a bubbly voice and an obvious love of stuffies; a side of myself that filled me with severe amounts of shame because when she finally came out she was told she was horrible and wrong.
And then I got to know Ryan.
Ryan is a BaGG regular who I’ve known for over a year now, in some capacity. For a very long time he was the rather attractive fellow that James gave rides to from time to time. Then he became the rather attractive fellow that was always at BaGG. Then he was the attractive fellow with the REALLY pretty partner. Like. Really pretty.
And then I found out the attractive fellow thought I was also attractive. Meep. MEEEEEEEEP.
As my squirly brain often does, it had labeled Ryan as ‘crush’ and therefore ‘untouchable. I found out that was very much not the case sometime in the late summer months. He was established with his partner, and I was slowly creeping back into dating after my release..and I was restless. I liked his voice, calm and soothing with a ‘sadist with a smile’ quality. I enjoyed his calm, easy going nature that was a balm on frazzled nerves. I especially liked how well we had begun communicating.
The first time we played he tied me up, giving me a pretty chest harness with bottlecaps underneath the rope for the edge of pain I craved…and then he fucked me into oblivion. Holy crap, that man scratches that particular itch for me in a way that will have me sated for a good few days afterward (a rarity with a libido as active as mine). It was good, comfortable. We played well with one another…though the dynamic wasn’t mind-blowing, it was fun. And I found myself much, MUCH more attracted to him than I thought possible… He has strong arms with just the right amount of muscle, a fit body, and his legs… Yum yum yum yum yum….
Another date followed, this time at his place, and then the weeks went by. We talked, both at BaGG when we saw one another and online when we didn’t. I don’t quite remember how it started, but somehow the topic of me being a little slipped out.
He was interested. He liked the idea of it. More than liked it.
Part of me was hesitant. Yes, it had been two years…and yes, this was a stable play partner that I trusted… but did I trust myself not to fuck up again? What if my little was just bad, and not in the good way? What if it was the rotten part of myself that I just couldn’t show?
…If I didn’t try, I would never know.
And so, I dressed up. I wore a frilly pink shirt, my ‘little’ underwear, my hair in pigtails. I brought stuffies and let myself slowly, slowly relax into the dynamic as I drove to Ryan’s house.
I love when risks pay off. He spanked me, of course.. He pulled my hair, played with my ‘princess parts’ and made them feel ‘funny’ and ‘got me all wet’. He had me cumming so many times I lost track, and seemed to all but purr every time I called him ‘daddy’. That magic switched that existed when he called me ‘kitten’ or ‘sweetie’ worked both ways..and the dynamic went from good to pretty fucking fantastic. We found a very natural niche for both of us to play in, a need that others weren’t sating at the moment, and so we played through taboo whispers of mommy not finding out what we were doing, and the little girl begging for daddy’s hard cock in her bum and princess parts… I let myself go, let myself enjoy.
The dynamic has developed over time, and now our play dates are some of my favorite things. They are catharsis, release, whether he simply fucks me into oblivion or beats me with a hairbrush before. It’s fun, and easy. There is something about Ryan that from the beginning has felt incredibly… safe. Our relationship isn’t romantic, but I do very much love and care for the man, and his partner. I know he’s protective of me, that he has my back. I know that I can run to him and his lovely at BaGG if I feel unsafe or uncomfortable. I also feel so free to talk to him about my headspace, how I’m feeling and what I need from play on a certain night. I don’t feel on edge, or ashamed, or in need of censuring myself with him. Our negotiation skills are kinda top knotch, and there’s an ease to he and I that I respect and enjoy.
Some of my favorite parts of our playdates are our ‘games’. I have a wee bit of an oral fixation, as I’m sure has become quite apparent in my entries.. I love sucking cock. We developed a ‘game’ a couple of dates ago. While daddy is on the phone ordering take out, kitten kneels in front of him and sucks his cock. This usually continues until long after the phone call is over, much to my great pleasure. Ryan is not small..and I take great pride in being able to take all of him down my throat, even if it’s not for long yet.
Last date he led me into the bedroom by his cock, starting with me sitting on the couch. He let me suck him for a few moments, and then took a step back, forcing me to my knees chasing after him. Step by step, he backed toward his bedroom. Inch by inch on my knees I followed, eagerly bobbing my head after his cock in an attempt to keep a steady rhythm as we moved. He’s one of those that I always love the taste of..male and musk and..mmmmm.
He pushed me down onto his bed and thoroughly beat my ass, literally punching into me. I remain very much an impact slut and absolutely love rough body play. I can take a lot of thuddy punching, especially with two or three fingers shoved up my pussy as a fist slams into my ass. I get off on the impact, asking for more, begging for it…and I did beg. Asking daddy for more and begging to be allowed to cum. Sometimes he makes me wait… He gets me there so easily. Other times he forces the orgasm out of me, having figured out on our first date that I can cum on command. By the fourth or fifth orgasm I am spent, screaming and begging daddy, daddy, daddy over and over as fingers fuck me, and then his cock. He’s not one to relent, to let me off easily, and I enjoy the play even more for that. He stretches me, pushing me through orgasm after orgasm, his cock going so deep it hits my back wall more often than not and sends me spiraling even more often. If I’m a good girl, if I ask nicely, he’ll toy my ass. If I’m really good daddy will have me spread my bum and slide his cock, inch by inch, inside, pausing just for a moment before picking up a punishing rhythm that gets me off so quickly I can barely see straight. All the while I cling to the blankets, begging for more, trying not to scream..
Afterwards, there is tobacco (he smokes. I don’t, though I will at times steal a drag after sex). He more often than not will offer his house coat and slippers to me over real clothes, a touching gesture and ritual I’ve begun to enjoy. I like the fuzzy texture on my skin when it’s still buzzing with aftershock goodness. I love it combined with cuddles, the smell of tobacco and man and sex, and the ease in which Ryan and I communicate both in and out of scene.
It’s taken more than words to make my little side feel safe, cared for, and like she isn’t…bad. Innately evil. It’s taken touches and teases. Cuddles, cartoons, and dozens of sweeties, kittens, and lots and lots of patience. Ryan has seen me cry, both in and out of little space, and has offered a safe space for me. He is honestly an incredible top and an even better friend… and I’m not sure my little would have ever been coaxed back out of hiding without him, and the encouragement and support of his epic partner. The combo platter of the two of them in my life as my people, my safe place, my friends… I am lucky. Very, very lucky.
The further I jump down the rabbit hole, the more I learn about myself. I continue to marvel at how kinks and preferences can change, and how relationships can be so meaningful and yet so different as well. A few years ago I never though I would be talking about poly pods and seeing someone I’m involved with not just as himself, but part of a unit. It would have plagued me with so much jealousy and made me feel like a third wheel. Instead, compersion is very much a thing, and my happy little side squees at time with both of them.
And so, further down the rabbit hole I go.
Yours, ever growing and ever changing,
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
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
Hello, my loves. I am so sorry I almost let January go by without an entry.
But I have yet to miss a month..and dammit I won’t let it slip by without an entry.
The last month has been.. difficult to say the least. Since I got back to California I’ve been picking up the pieces of my life as my Master has been doing the same. I’ll be moving incredibly soon, I’ve started a new job, and I have a car to get around.
At the same time the time with the car is limited. It has too many mechanical problems and can’t pass smog.. so I’ve got about 65 days to make up enough money for a new car. The new job is dependent on a vehicle..and I’ve been so sick lately that typing, no matter writing, has been difficult.
I’ve been battling a viral sinus infection for over two weeks now..it took me over a week to figure out what it actually was. I just got proper meds yesterday and will hopefully be feeling better soon. I have to pack. Frantically. Maniacally. And I’ve barely been able to move.
At the same time I’ve been ACHING to play. I’ve gotten quite a bit of time with Master lately… I’ve gotten to be his ride to a few events and of course see him every week at BaGG. But so many events he is working. He was sick for a while when I was well and wasn’t up to playing..and now the shoe is on the other foot. My body is tired and needs time to heal but godde do I want to be under his hand.
I’ve watched him struggle… with things I can’t necessarily help with. It’s hard. Your natural instinct as a slave is to want to serve. To give all you can. To fix things for your Master when they are broken. I can’t do that right now. I can only watch and support and fix my own life best I can.
You cannot pour from an empty cup… My cup was not only empty for a time but it almost shattered. Not from Master.. and not from my other partner either.. but from the rest of the world. From money and work and illness and the universe seeming to continually push me. From my grandfather passing away and my Master’s car dying so soon after mine did.
I have been blessed. Very blessed. My relationships, both with my Master and with the man I call sir, are good. And strong, And such a comfort when the world feels like it’s trying to destroy me.
Chris is so much more financially put together than I will ever be.. His support and help has kept me going in a lot of ways. He’s sat me down and helped me financially plan, showed me next steps in how to survive. How to really pick up the pieces and keep going..because when he was my age he was exactly where I was.
I am picking up my pieces, slowly but surely..and keeping the parts of my life that matter in tact as much as I can. I will be okay..Master will be okay.
We will all find a way to pick up the pieces and keep going in 2016.
As always, I am still yours
Have you found your submission has changed with different partners/relationships? If you’re involved with partners of both sexes, does your submission relate or change based on gender or does it depend on the person?
Isn’t it that way with relationships in general, BDSM, kink, vanilla or otherwise? Different relationships have people interacting in different ways.
I’ll start with the second part of this question and then delve back into the first. When I was younger.. around 19 or so, I was in a very unhealthy relationship. It was an abusive rebound that continued for a year… I consider him part of my young and dumb phase. I’ve always been what I consider bicurious. I’ve always thought of women as beautiful creatures and appreciated the female form. I love pixie-like faces, sharp cheek bones and sparkling eyes. I am not immune to the charms of my own gender. It’s just only once in a blue moon that I actually actively pursue a female. I am a big, big fan of the penis. I admit this.
Back then, I was a bitch in the most unhealthy way possible. I was so angry at men for the relationships that I was in that I decided I was going to delve deeply into the lady pond and pursue that side of my sexuality without my boyfriend knowing (I was in Massachusetts and he was in New Jersey at the time, so this was not that hard). … This consisted of several one-night stands, drunkin hookups, me promising to call when I knew I wouldn’t, and all around slutty behavior. In six months I had managed to sleep with more women and burn more bridges than I had in 19 years with men.
It took me a long time to see that my attraction to women was a natural, healthy thing and not just something that grew out of my unhealthy relationship from back then. For a while I assumed I was a switch, because of how I had treated the girls I played with during that time period. I was a toppy douche, calling the shots and telling them when the relationship ended and what would be done… I thought I would end up topping all women.
… Not so. NOPE. It depends on how women approach me. Cal’s former partner, for instance, loved topping females like me. When I said I wasn’t comfortable with that she took this as a challenge and would bait me on a regular basis, saying she would love to dig her heels into my ass, etc, get me to kiss her feet… It made me challenge her right back and want to look eye level with her. I didn’t necessarily want to top her.. But I wanted to meet her in the eye and be her equal.
I wrote in here about my first experience being topped by a woman.. A good friend of mine named Ren. She is very sweet, and for a while wanted me to be her house pet..but I was never physically interested in her in that way. There are a couple that I am physically interested in these days.. I have a small circle of friends at BaGG, women and men both, that I’ve somehow become entangled with… I want to kneel in front of one while helping her spank the other.. It is a welcoming, healthy feeling.
…That is as toppy as I get, with either gender. If someone asks me to help with a spanking I will.. but otherwise I want the spanking dammit.
As for my submission changing from partner to partner.. Absolutely. I’ve already talked about what I an absolute masochist I can be with James. I love poking the bear just enough to go home black and blue at the end of the night, knowing that we’ll both enjoy it. As sassy as I can be with James there are times when I can be completely docile if that’s what he requires of me. There is no question of who the one submitting is. There is absolutely no question of who belongs to whom. How sassy or sweet or over the top or quiet I am depends largely on my partner. He leads the scene, in every sense. He is an actor. He takes the stage, commands it. He shows me where our marks are. And I happily walk behind him, follow his lead, fall in naturally with the scene he is directing. It all feel right, and gives me a greater peace than anything I can imagine. James is the star… but I’m his leading lady and I know that. No question. No doubt. I love it. I love him.
Huh.. I think that’s the first time I’ve typed that here.. I’ve told him. He knows…but it’s the first time I’ve openly said it.. I’m in love with James. I love being his.
I have another partner that I formally met when I was at Fusion over the summer. He is a fabulous man who did a beautiful needle scene on my back. We hit it off talking before and after the scene and I ended up spending my last night at camp snuggling with him in bed. He is very different than what I am used to.. Older than I’ve played with before (double my age), but doesn’t act it most of the time. I love his energy. He’s put me at ease from the beginning, making friendship with him a very easy thing and not pushing me to to define the relationship between us in any way. He knows I am poly, but my focus is on James. He is KING of poly..has more partners than I can possibly keep track of and has nicknamed me ‘dessert’ because just when he thought his dance card was full I showed up..and there was somehow room. He’s been helping me slowly navigate both my interactions with him and also James.. answering any questions I have with the patience of a saint.
Playing with him is VERY different from playing with James. I don’t have the desire to push myself so much. They’re both sadists, but with Chris I am sassier. I can get away with more because while James reads as all DOM to me, (with the added dash of ‘this is the man I belong to and serve’ thrown in) Chris is very much a switch. When we play I call him sir, and of course I do respect him… but my most docile side seems reserved for James… The man that owns me also owns the part of me that absolutely submits, without question.. Chris does not own me in any way. I like pushing my limits more with him.. seeing if I can squirm away from him when he has me pinned, seeing what wiggling my ass in his direction will get him to do.. and after we will sit, and talk, and exchange kinky stories of the play we have done since we last saw one another. And I enjoy it. I am grateful for Chris’s company for as long as I am graced with it. He’s taught me quite a bit so far.. and reminds me often when I am in a rough patch that he was at one point as well, and that this too shall pass.
I am lucky, very lucky, to have the people in my life that I do. I don’t know how I got so lucky..but I am a very blessed submissive.
Do you include service as a part of your expectations of your submission? How do you define service? What does it mean to you? If not, what is it about the concept of service that is not for you?
I consider myself to be a service oriented submissive… Now, what that means to me when I say that can mean something different to another.
To me, that means that when my Sir says “jump”, I already know how high he wants me to be jumping and instead I am asking him how long. If it’s a partner I truly care about, I try to anticipate his needs. I know what he likes from Wicked Grounds on Wednesday nights when we grab a bite before BaGG…but know not to order it unless he asks me to. I know how a play partner takes his coffee at this point and will fix it for him before I bring it to him in the cafe.
I anticipate and learn how best to serve the person I’m with… which for me can mean learning how to make his favorite meal to learning proper deep tissue massage to help with backaches..
I enjoy this. I get pleasure from giving pleasure, even in the simplest of ways. If that means they want me to clean up their place or cook them dinner then I will, but only if that’s what they want.
Cal’s partner and I both share a certain… erm.. opinion of his ex partner. Her and I ended up in a conversation about service submission the other night, and she expressed the irritation in how the ex would come and clean the house, do the laundry, and how her partner didn’t actually like that.. Those domestic duties are what a lot of people associate with service. Okay, yes, that can be part of it..but that’s not the first thing I think of when I identify myself.
Honestly, when I think about service in regards to myself I think about my relationship with pain.. My masochistic side developed because the person I belong to is a sadist. He enjoys digging his nails into my flesh, making me squeak and yip and whimper in the club and cafe and..wherever else he decides to hit me. The first couple times we played in any way I remember thinking “I don’t know if I can do this… I don’t like pain. I can’t take this. This HURTS.”
And then I saw the twinkle in his eyes.. I saw the sadistic smile that lets me know just how much trouble I’m in… The impishness. And I wanted more, not because I craved the sensation but because I craved that reaction from him.
I crave the look of pride he gives me when he’s beaten me to my limit and he has to all but peel me off of the cross because standing is hard… When he pulls me into his arms while I’m still trembling and gives me the feather light kiss on top of my head, and then the gentlest kiss on my lips.. Little, silent thank yous that let me know that I did good, that I made him proud. I love the look of delight on his face when he’s taking photos of me being beaten by another, the voyeur in him enjoying every second of it.
I get pleasure from giving pleasure, and that manifests in multiple ways… That is the best way I can define service for myself.
Yours, a content service subby