Alpha Sub....

I was introduced to this article by an aquaintance in the community.   I found there to be a lot of familiar words and phrases from my journal posts.   It is just too uncanny.  It is worth the read if you think you are an alpha sub.


https://dominantsoul.wordpress.com/self-understanding/alpha-submissives/

Needing more

I have not slept well for a very long time.  I went to BV hoping to play, but that did not happen.   In October, I was given the opportunity to experience fire play.  And that was a rush.  Although I loved the play and the company (X and Slitty)  I didn't get into subspace.  Fire play is a different experience.  It is a lot of work.  The impact and mental stimulation is different than the average slap and tickle play.  I enjoy hard long play sessions that end in bruises and a drunken high from the endorphin rush.  Fire eventually burns out, and a lengthy scene is not possible even with multiple floggers.  The fiberglass tools combined with the fuel are quite heavy.  When a set of floggers go dry, the fire dies, new floggers are lit.  I think the repetition of heavy to light then again to heavy would be exhausting.  Not to mention the mental exhaustion involved with making sure that nothing tragic happens.  I do not envy the talented Master that welded those floggers.   Although the scene was too short for me to reach subspace,  it was a wonderful night.  I had a wonderful time.  I had some interesting marks the next day.  However, the intensity and depth was not enough to get me to that place where I am able to reset my soul and sleep.   I need more.

Idle

Life gets in the way.  I sometimes wish I had an idle life.  I always wish I had more time for a little R-and-R.   I always wish I had more time for Me.  But even more...I wish I had someone that made sure I took care of me.  Not that I am lonely.  I am not.  I have friends.  I have loved ones.  I have love. I have an amazing career with a team of amazing people.  What I do not have is that someone special that knows my soul.  That someone that can read me well enough and understands that I will always put myself last. Someone that understands I will neglect and ignore what I need and put aside my good judgement to take care of those around me. 

It has been hard.  Taking care of me.  I have no one to do those everything simple things for.  You know, washing dishes, cooking, sweeping, getting out of bed on the weekends....   Hell, last Sunday, I went to bed early the night before and finely got my ass out of bed around 6:20pm.  No intrinsic motivation, and since I am single, there was no external motivation either.  I literally did not eat all day.  I did nothing but read erotic love stories, pet Archie LuLu, and stare out the window at the Cardinals that take advantage of my hospitality at the always full bird feeder.   If Archie had not been begging and bugging me to feed him, I probably would not have gotten out of bed when I did.  

I am happily exhausted.  My job needs me.  My students need me.  My co-workers need me.  I get to work around 6:30am and pull back in my driveway around 8:30pm every night.  I an busy and keep busy.  I get home, take a shower, feed the cats and fish, take some benadryl, and then get to bed.  Only to start all over again the next day.  The weekend is a different story.  I loose purpose.  I am lost.  I don't care to take care of me.  There is no one around to do things for.  I  look for things to do.  I pace, edit photos, play games on my NOOK, but the one thing I do not do, is take care of me. 

Is it a common character trait of  submissive types to neglect themselves?  Do we need a Dominant or Master to have purpose?  A stronger personality to keep us organized and motivated? I am neglected.  I am missing that one element that keeps me focused.  Maybe one day, my world will slow down just enough that I will find what I need.

Snuckuponme...

I can't blame  any one  but me for this one...
Doing some house cleaning and came across  the jewlery  box I had placed all my "cuffs and collars" in.  It dawned on me that I had either made or bought the materials to make every single one of them.   What the fuck was I thinking.  He never even bought me a collar!  He just  recycled an old one of his for my first "training" collar, but it was too big and I ended up purchasing silver chain and findings  to recreate it in a more flattering length.  The rest I made or purchased through Things Remembered....I am such a gullible goof ball.  That alone should have been a sign that he really didn't value me.

There are a few missing, but these alone probably cost me about $ 300.00.  Not that the pricetag is relevant.  However, seeing me as a valuable possession that deserved something beautiful to represent the commitment we had made is a big issue.  I will try to find a picture of the one that I made of Swarovski crystals and the replica , as well as a picture of the only "collar" he ever gave me.

Dreamer

Dreams:
I want that man that I find in all those screw novels I read.  I want a man that can walk that fine line between Dom and lover.  A man that wants to make love to me, but also knows when I need to be dominated, or just fucked up against the wall.  I want that feeling back, you know the one, that lust so intense that just hearing his voice makes you cream your panties.  I want a man that looks at me with that look, and passion consumes my every need.  I want that man that fits me so perfectly, that after one night of passionate love, I am addicted and can not let him go or get him out of my system. I want that man that knows my needs inside and out and just out of luck, they are in line with what he wants and needs too.   I want that addiction, that need, that desire, that fulfillment.

Guess I am a dreamer.

Making Love

Love:
I have literally had only one man ever successfully make love to me.  Sad I know.  Hollow tired, once.  In my heart I knew he had tried, but it was very awkward and fell short of perfect.  Although I know he did it to try and fulfill a need I had voiced, but by the time he was done, it was once again all about him, and neither of us was comfortable.  Sad, I know.   He never ventured down that road again.  John on the other hand, and yes his name was John, really loved me.  He is the only man that has ever been able to get me to orgasm with out manual clit stimulation.  Sad I know.  I have only had about 4 non-manual orgasms.  Maybe I need to send John a thank you card.  Sad I know. 

Stories

Stories:
I read these books, BDSM romance books.  NO NOT THAT 50 SHADES SHIT....
The girls in these books are always having orgasms.   I sometimes wonder if there are women out there that actually get that.  Or if it is in fact just a unicorn.  You know, something that is made up, but since no one tells the truth, every woman thinks there is something wrong with them if they can't or don't have 10 orgasms while having sex, so they lie and end up have amazing mind blowing orgasms while having sex.   Men brag about how much sex they have, women brag about how many orgasms they were given......

He has been almost silent for the past 2 years.   Hardly a word or post accept when one of our leading community members passed suddenly.  Then out of the blue he reminds me of his true character.  He proclaimes himself to be an ass and insults me on a post thread that went KP. 

I had just began to let my guard down and was starting to feel sorry for him.  I had been silent and had worked very hard to not degrade  his charactor.  Most of my journal entries focused on what I did wrong in our relationship out of a missguided respect for him.   Never again.   

That whole concept of out of sight, out of mind was working for me.   However, he is no longer out of sight or out of mind and I am a little pissed.   I promised myself that I would not allow myself to feel anything over this man ever again.  Now here I am angry enough to do something stupid.  UGHhhhh...   

I didn't realize his silence had been such a blessing.  

Better judgement -vs- emotions

   My dad is not doing well.  Been spending as much time with him as possible.  Trying to keep him busy and not focused on the fact that he will be leaving this world.  He is healthy and energetic but has this half full kind of pessimistic attitude.  Doc gave him 2 yrs tops to live his life to the best he can, but he acts as if he only has 2 weeks.  It will be a full time job keeping him "living" instead of "dying" before he is called home to his Lord.  Then there is the reality of how I am handling it when not at home.  I cry and sleep, then cry some more.  The reality of loosing my dad is taking it's tole on me.  I am strong in front of him, but a puddle of tears when not.   Therefore, I have set aside any dreams of a happy ever after.  I am focusing on family and keeping myself sane.

    I want so much for him to put his worry of my future to rest.  I know that he dreamed of me being settled and content in my old age.  I am neither and I know it is something that would settle him a little at least.  Knowing that I have someone to turn to, to comfort me after he is gone would be a relief for him.  He was so relieved when hollow asked him if we could get married, it was a load off his worries and let him focus on taking care of his cancer.  That went to shit, and now that Dad's cancer has returned with a vengeance, he is worried about how I will get along once he is gone. There is a part of my heart that longs for a romantic diversion.  But it has to be perfect.  My heart hurts for a baby.  Not for me, but to carry on Dad's legacy.  I fancy that a little piece of of my dad would live on in the face of my child.

   Either way,  starting any kind of relationship would be wrong.  My mental need for affection could cause me to make a detrimental mistake in judgement.  That is how I met my late husband.  It was with in a year of burying my daughter.  We laid her to rest on November 6, 1992 and I was married December 11, 1993.  Then separated and on the way to divorce by October 1995 and a widow in December 1995.  That mistake I will not make again.

 I am an intelligent woman first and foremost, however, I can not keep myself from wanting, even against my better judgement.

BDSM Test

Not sure how accurate this is but...

== Results from http://bdsmtest.org/ ==
85% Submissive
74% Bondage Receiver
63% Girl/Boy
58% Voyeur
55% Experimentalist
46% Brat
46% Non-monogamist
41% Exhibitionist
41% Slave
38% Masochist
33% Primal (Predator)
25% Switch
21% Bondage Giver
20% Primal (Prey)
16% Daddy/Mommy
15% All-Rounder
13% Pervert
11% Brat Tamer
9% Dominant
4% Master/Mistress
0% Degradation Giver
0% Degradation Receiver
0% Sadist
See my results online at http://bdsmtest.org/result.php?id=212677

A Memory

I do not know what triggered the memory, but it resurfaced none-the-less thanks to FL.  I have avoided writing any posts that are this personal, but this memory has been eating at me for almost a week.  The urge to write it down has been eating at me as well.  So here it is.  The intent is not to shame or blame anyone.  We all know that there are two sides to every story, as well as understanding the dynamic between a Dom and sub can range from intense to gentile.  This is just a moment, a vignette if you will, in a past power exchange relationship.


We all know what a hard limit list is.  We also know that if you are in a relationship with a dominant there is a chance that the list will be challenged.  Any Dominant worth his/her snuff knows when to push that boundary and when to leave well enough alone.  This is one of those moments at which my x lost a little of his status and began the downward descent From Dom to domineering ass...by not honoring my hard limit list.

Although face slapping is desired by many, it is not something I tolerate.  I am into pain, but not into pain mixed with sex.  I tolerated the biting and flogging during sex with hollow only because I wanted to please him.  It is not something I will ever do again.  Play is play, sex is sex  and never the two shall meet as far as I am concerned. 

This particular night hollow decided that he wanted to use what was at the time "his pussy"  yeah me....  I was good to go.  Then for some reason,  while in coitus, his hand makes intentional contact with my face making a loud pop sound in my ears.  Instant heat erupted across my left cheek.  Face slapping is on my "oh fuck no your don't" list.  My face is beyond off limits because of what I do for a living.  Not because I have to be beautiful for my coworkers or the camera, but because, like many, the truth of how I got the black eye will get me fired.   Accidents happen, black eyes happen, busted lips happen....when face slapping happens.   FAR FROM OKAY!

He knew this but he did it any way.
I began to cry instantly, "his pussy" dried up instantly.  Through my tears I hear him say "ASK me to hit you again?"
What the fuck!
I couldn't do it.  I began to cry harder.  "Ask me to do it again" he demanded, irritation in his voice.
"I can't"  I choked out.  I just couldn't do it. 
"Yes you can, I have already done it, you can take it again." this time expectation and excitement had the words dripping like honey from his lips.
I turned away from him and covered my face, gut-wrenching tears sliding across my cheeks.
He rolled off the bed.

A few nights later he punished me with anal sex.
The whole time asking me things like: " Who do you belong to?  Who owns you?  Who makes the decisions?"
Like a dutiful submissive I answered each question with "You sir" while silent tears slid down my cheeks and the memory of my brother molesting me paraded through my head.


I answered him with what he wanted to hear out of quilt.  I answered him only to please him.  A small part of me appeased  him just so he would be satisfied and stop. That moment nearly obliterated any trust I had in the man that was once my dom.  It is a mistake I will never make again.

I will always wonder if this moment was the beginning of the end for us.

We both made mistakes.  He made the mistake when he pushed to far.  I made a mistake in trusting him to begin with.

  

2014

     I can not complain about 2014.  It had it's ups and downs.  It's highlights, and low-lights.   I met some amazing people, got a wonderful job doing what I love, and grew closer to my family and friends.   The positives outweigh the negatives.  However, I do so hope that 2015 sees me more settled and sure in my life.     

     As for ringing in this new year,  I almost didn't.  I had made plans to try and make it to Dallas and see my soul sister, but family issues being what they are, I had decided to stay home.  My parents had a different thought process and wanted me to go to Houston.   Primarily, they wanted me to spy on my aunt. She had been harping me about coming to see her as well.  My parents also thought it would be good for me to see my besties.  Mom and Dad worry about my bouts of melancholy and encouraged me to go to our traditional NYE party.   I went with the expectation of just being gone for the night and coming home in the morning.

     As always going to Houston is bitter sweet.  We drank cheep bubbly wine in the form of mimosas, took shots of whipped vodka and Grand Mariner, then at midnight toasted in the new year with pink champagne. Through my drunk mutterings I somehow managed to remember to keep it vanilla around all my besties children.  As much as I love my BFF's and needed some time with them, I know that I was missing something vital to my sanity.    Knowing I was just a few minutes away from the EROS NYE get together ate a whole in my heart and left a growing void.

      My besties know about my life.  Nothing is a secret between us.  Grin.  They are an awesome group of people and love me with or without bruises.  I try to keep references to my non-vanilla life to a minimum because it is not their thing.  (I hate when people force/dominate conversations about their hobbies or interests.) Besides, no mater how much I talk about it they can not fill that void.  They can not truly understand the need and hunger I have.   So I take advantage of my vanilla time with my vanilla friends and have vanilla conversations to the best of my ability.  

      I ended up staying another night to take care of my aunt and make sure she started off the year with a full freezer.  As I sat on her couch chatting with her,  my sober mind wandered to another place and time.  A time before I met hollow and other one.  A time when I called my aunt's house home.  A time when I was new to the idea of BDSM and my daydreams were full of wonder, trepidation, and expectation.  A time when kink could still shock and amaze me.
    I had a hard time falling asleep that night and it had nothing to do with the uncomfortable mattress.  I miss the community.  I miss having people around that know where I am coming from.  I miss not having to monitor my conversations.  I miss having boundaries and formality along with the events and meet-ups.  I miss having a Dom I can turn to when I am uneasy or intimidated. 

 I miss my other life.

   

I want..

I am sure that somewhere in my past I have written about how I got here.
It is slightly blurred but the general story is clear enough to follow.

I have always been drawn to the power of a man.  Not boys. There is a difference between a Man and a boy.  Neither have anything to do with the actual age of the male of our species.  It is all in the way they carry themselves, how they react, how they approach life.  I dated men in power positions.  Military, police officers, firemen, bikers....  TESTASTRON junkies all of them.  They were not man enough.  Sad, I know.  I needed more.

One came close, very close to perfect.   He could have been the one, if he had been Dom enough to take control.  I was in my early 30's, he was almost 30.   He was the first and only man to ever demand that I lie still and allow him to pet me for hours.  I would flinch, arch, and shutter as his mouth, finger tips and nails left trails of heaven across my skin.  He would smile and growl at the result of his sweet torture.  He was an amazing lover.  He was just not enough, there was something missing. 

I had a boyfriend in my early 20's that came to visit.  He was sitting on the couch watching a movie with my parents.  I didn't want to freak my dad out by sitting next to him, but I so wanted to be closer: feel his heat, smell his scent, hear his breathing, so I sat on the floor and wrapped my arms around his legs.  I fell asleep with his fingers in my hair and my fingers tangled in the cuff of his jeans.  The most comfortable place I have every been.

It was not until later in life, after multiple relationship fails, that I discovered BDSM.   It is not what people think.  It is not the Hollywood image that most project.   I have only met a hand full off Dom's that were "beautiful" in that perfect model way.  What most people will never understand is that the beauty is found within a person.  It shines when the right Dom finds the right sub.  The beauty lies in the trust and love between the two.

The last relationship I was in was a mistake.  A big one.  It was all one sided.  I went for 3 years with out an orgasm.  Sex was an obligation.  Life was an obligation.  We would go to the store, he would grab what he wanted and never asking me if I wanted/needed anything.  I bought the groceries daily, cooked daily.  Did the laundry daily.  All with the expectation of a think you or reward.  I did it because I  wanted to please him.  It was not until the end that I realized the imbalance of give and take.  It was a harsh lesson to learn.  I learned that he was missing what the other two had in spades.  They loved me, both of them still do.  He had the potential to be a Dom but ended up a domineering jerk.  He was missing the love.

I look back and know that there has always been a part of me that was different.  I preferred to dress up as a hooker while other little girls were dressing up as princesses.  In my early teens,  I liked to watch porn and read Playboy and Hustler.  I don't think that my environment had all that much to do with my unconventional proclivities either.  

I still like porn, and erotica.  I still prefer to sit at my boyfriends feet.  I still love to have my skin stroked until I am exhausted with pleasure.  I still like a man to take charge during sex. I still like to dress up like a whore on occasion, but most of all....

I still want a man. 

An Amazing Weekend!

My souvenir from Bondage Camp 2014!

A few months ago I happened to check my Facebook junk mail.  I was surprised to find a much unexpected message from an unexpected source.   A few weeks later, I am heading to Ren Fest to spend the weekend with her, her new man, and a boatload of other kinky people at Bondage Camp. 

 I got there about 10:00pm and ended up having one of the best times I have ever had with like minded people.  Although I was not able to spend as much time there as I would have liked, I still met some wonderful people and one fantastic soul sister.

The night started off with hugs, homemade brew, toasted marshmallows, friendly chat, and a little voyeurism.   The morning was just as wonderful, breakfast then Ren Fest.   After a few shows and a little shopping we headed back to camp to get ready for the evening.   We ate one of the most amazing meals I have ever had, watched some very talented fire play then went off to a secluded area for some real fire play.  For those of you that have never seen it… Nudity + fire floggers = awesome and if you ever get a chance, it is a must see. The company made it even more memorable.   We made it back to camp and then it was my turn. 

 After 4 years of being neglected,   I was blessed with the opportunity to do a scene with XofDallas.  I put on a pair of long socks, and cheekies, grabbed my fluffy blanket and headed for the designated area.  Although it was freezing, literally, I stepped up to the cross.  I don’t remember much.  I remember the cold on my legs, stomach, breasts, and back.  I remember the comforting, familiar rhythm of the floggers, and the disappointment when it was over.  The walk to the fire pit to compose and snap out of the adrenalin high is a blur.  I vaguely remember heading back to the tent and snuggling up for a long nights sleep.  I do know that I have not slept that deep since October 30, 2010 (the last time I really had a decent scene). 

 

Sadly, the morning came too soon, weekend ended too soon.  I tried to head home with enough time to get some work done before Monday.   That was not in the cards I guess.  About the time I remembered the dishes and began to feel guilty, I noticed my check engine light had come back on, and one of my tire sensors announced an impending flat.  My weekend was amazing and even the flat tire, misfiring 3rd cylinder, and 3 hr delay on the highway will never put a tarnish on the weekend I spent camping with Slitty, X, and the rest of the kinky Ren Folk.

Thank you for reaching out to me.  Thank you for everything.  Although I know that I started healing a long time ago, you helped bring closer to what had once been one of the most dismal times of my life.

I am looking forward to our next adventure! 

My time in the closet

I remember him shoving me into that closet.  It was small as closets go, bi-fold doors with only 2 panels, not 4.  After all it was a kids closet, and didn't need to be too large.   It was not dark, thanks to the horizontal slats that made up the doors, light streamed through.  Me being shoved into that closet was a regular occurrence, sometimes he would blackmail me or promise to help clean my room.  Mostly it was blackmail though.  It smelled like sour socks and baseball gloves. Full of the normal boy clutter: sports equipment, toys, shoes, and clothes.   I would have to kick things around to stand on the floor to keep from tripping. 

 I remember the day I figured out that placing my hands flat on the wall with my arms extended made the whole process easier and faster.  It allowed for more resistance and helped me keep my balance.   Soon after I figured out that pushing like I was going to take a shit made it less painful.   I remember hating him for what he was doing.  I avoided that room.  Thinking that if I didn't go into the room, than he couldn't get me into the closet.   But like a child, I would soon put those thoughts aside, and trust that all was safe as children do, I was only 8 after all.  Only to end up in the closet again, with my pants, or shorts around my ankles being sodomized by my brother.  

I don't remember when or how I came to realize that I had the power to stop him. I guess I was about 12 years old,  I just remember one day I decided I didn't want to ever go into that closet again.  I built up my courage, came up with a story that was just enough information and told my mom the biggest lie I have ever told.  I told her after church one morning that "Brother, tried to touch me where a brother shouldn't."  I don't remember all the details but I know I told her about the closet and him pulling my shorts off.  I made it sound like he had attempted to hurt me, not that it had been going on for years.   I am thankful that she believed me.   She cried, she told my dad, and next thing I knew, I was being dropped off at my aunts house for the day while my parents and brother went to see Father Ron.  I know he had to spend time with Father Ron every Sunday for almost a year.  I do not know what happened in the meeting or between my brother and Father Ron every Sunday, I never asked, I never even brought the subject up.  I just remember feeling guilty for tattling on him and avoided the subject at all cost.   I had gotten him in big time trouble and that is something sisters just don't do.   That was the end of my time in the closet, that was actually the end of a lot of things.

I look back and think how strange that being molested didn't keep me from hanging out and playing with him.  However, my guilt at getting him in trouble did.   Even as a child I was a little submissive, and felt I had let him down.  My guilt caused me to spend more time alone in my room and less time with my best friend.  

We both eventually grew out of the awkwardness, but never the friendship.  He has been one of my rocks and on more occasions than I can count or remember, filled the stereotypical role of big brother hero. 

I know that many women in the lifestyle have been through similar situations.  Most of the time, we keep it to ourselves, or bury the memory deep inside.  It is not something freely discussed, and often women make the mistake of not telling their Dom/Sir/Master about their past.   It is not something to be ashamed of.  It happened, and you can not change the past, only learn from it.  Accept it and come to terms with it. Or take the easy road and let it eat you alive.

I am lucky in many ways,  I have been able to forgive, and often forget, the details of my time in that little closet. 

A few pictures

Slap on the ass...

I was recognized this year.  When I was confronted here on FL, politely, I freaked a little.  I asked this co-worker how he recognized me.  He said it took a bit of work.  He saw me at work, asked someone what my name was, looked me up on Facebook, compared pictures, and the rest is history.  He said my eyes gave me away.  I have since taken most of the matching pictures off of both these sites.    However, about 4 months ago, an acquaintance from my former biker community (to make this simple we will call him Dick) said something to me about being on one of those "sites" wink wink, he had recognized my eyes, and put 2 and 2 together as well.  We both laughed it off.  On July 26th, while at the dance hall (I am a dance-olic, just can not get enough of a good double-2, advanced-2, western swing, waltz, or polka) I was standing at the bar ordering my poison of choice and someone comes up behind me and smacks me on the ass.  Surprise surprise it was Dick!  I am sure my face registered my shock (not pain, I had my good jeans on.)  He stood there with this shit eating grin on his face, very proud of his achievement and bravado.  I pulled my lipstick out of my pocket, just to make sure it was not broken.  Then next thing I knew my open, empty hand lands full speed across the side of his face!  I vaguely remember hearing one of my male friends say "ohhh shit"!  My eyes were trained on Dick challenging him to react.  He didn't fail me, his reaction was priceless.  First shock, then anger, traveled across his face.  He recovered quickly and backed up the three yards to the table and the waiting arms of his girl slightly pissed.   I turned around to grab my beer, which was now setting on the bar and realized that my male "friends" were no longer in residence, but had all scattered in the wind.  So much for cowboys and a code of honor...  They all know I can normally hold my own, but this was Dick I just slapped and they were not confident that it was going to go over well.  Dick of all people:  biker, convict, trouble maker.... 

Dick has not been back to the bar since.

What I learned about gut instincts...

He had contacted me several times,  always respectful and patient.  I eventually caved.  I had been feeling guilty for canceling the previous date and figured that I was in for a spanking if our acquaintance advanced.  We met for lunch; a simple, quick lunch at a low end family restaurant, nothing pretentious or demanding.  There was nice banter and some interesting conversation.  It through me off when, out of the blue, he asked me if I had issues with him penetrating me or cumming inside me.  The warning lights started going off, but I pushed them down and ignored them. After all we were just having lunch or so I thought.  I was willing to give him a chance.  He talked me into coming to his hotel room because I had earned a spanking for my "lack of communication."  Again major alarms and flashing lights.  I went anyway.   We went to a hotel, blue collar, clean, or at least visually clean , and immediately he had me lay down over his lap for that spanking.  No alarms or flashing lights with this, in fact I could have taken a lot more than he dished out, but that is not the point of this story.  After that, there was a little groping and some talking, then he took me to my car and I went to the office.  Later that evening, he contacted me and proceeded to text back and forth a little.  This is where the small alarms became a large screeching siren.

Lets back up just a little.  He made several mistakes that I could have overlooked:

1)  he tried to have a casual scene with out establishing perimeters.  I let this one go, because he stopped when I said "please stop" 

2) he never asked me for a safe word.  In fact he said that I didn't need one with him and that it would help establish trust.  WTF, that is how you establish trust, allowing a safe word.  Again, I waited it out, and let that one slide.

3) he asked me if I was okay with having sex with him....%^&*$#! Really, I don't know you! Why the hell would I have sex with you?  I am not a slut and I though I had made myself perfectly clear on that point.

4) I told him honestly, that if he pushed my boundaries, I would not stay in contact.  Yet he attempted to push boundaries that I would only permit from a Dom that owned me or one that had established a comfortable and committed relationship with me.  Again I waited it out and began making a mental list of the mistakes he was racking up.

5)  I was told that I would have to lie to my parents and come spend the weekend with him.  He suggested that I tell them that I was going to Houston for the weekend.  WTF...I am not collared by you, you do not ask someone that you have been on 2 (and not really 2) dates with to lie to their family.  Big loud alarms were going off at this point.  Now I am just saying what he wants to hear along with a lot of "okay"s.

6,7,8,9,10.....There were several more transgressions, but I think you get the point.

The final action that brought an end to our communication accrued later that night when he sent me a text saying that he wanted to see me before he left town.  That I needed to find time to have dinner with him, and it was not stated as a request.  He implied that I needed to manage to find the time, even after I told him that I was burred in paperwork and would be working late every night.  I am sorry, but you do not own me, we have seen each other face to face an average of 5.5 hours.  Where do you get off demanding that I jeopardize my career and neglect my responsibility to my job so that you can, a near stranger, have dinner with me.  I am submissive, but I am also an independent woman that is proud of the struggle and hardships I went through to make my dreams come true.  Why would a so-called-Dom want me to neglect my career?  I would never ask anyone to jeopardize their livelihood for me, especially someone that I had only know a few hours.  That was the straw that broke the sub's back.  I did not respond to his last text.  I put my phone aside and in the morning, I deleted all his texts.

I regretted my actions when I canceled our first date, but the realty is that I should have listened to my gut instincts in the first place.   I should have listened to the fist onset of alarms, bells, and whistles......  What did I learn out of this,  gut instincts only come in handy if you are willing to listen to them.

good night sweet girl

I fell asleep last night to the feel of your hands caressing my curves.  The warm moist heat of your breath on the back and neck.   Your lips nipping at my shoulder and ear.  The slight tickle of body hair against the back of my thighs and ass.  The strength of you arms holding me close. Your nails biting into the swells of my breasts.  Your fingers digging in to my supple flesh and teasing to perfection.  My body writhed, arched, and stretched, my feet caressed and slid across the cool sheets.  My hands clenched and pulled at the pillowcase.  Your voice demanded in my ear “cum for me sweet girl.”  I surrendered and melted in bliss.  You tucked me in close and whispered “good night sweet girl” with a gentile kiss on the back of my neck and all was calm, wonderful, and right in the world.

It was an amazing dream....thank you for giving me that.

Skinny Jeans

I put on a pair of skinny jeans today.  This is not something I do very often.  Not sure why I thought my fat butt would fit, but I did it any way.  I looked in the mirror and realized that I was not as fat as I thought I was.  Sure enough I went downstairs and with dread stood on the scale.  WOW...I am down to 142 lbs from a whopping 158.  Then I really got excited when I realized that I had been weighing myself with out any clothes on and here I was completely covered, shoes and all.    I didn't realize how much junk food I was eating while living with hollow.  That is the only thing I can think that I am doing different, other than going to dance class and going dancing once a week.  I have not been eating nearly as healthy but I am not sitting in front of the computer snacking all day either.  Life is looking up.  I have a good job, I have friends, and I have my family and now I have skinny jeans.  YEAH ME.

Off for the week...

Once again I find myself at loose ends with way too much work to do.  Houston is calling my name.  I missed LUEY, my Grandmother came for a visit this weekend, maybe I'll make it next year.  There will be a play party or two this coming weekend.  Question is "Am I motivated enough to get my work done and head that way on Thursday?"  Once upon a time I was brave enough to get in my car drive down town and walk into a room full of people I didn't know, introduce myself and flirt.  After the turmoil that hollow caused in the Houston community, that bravado has burned out.  I fear that I will not be welcomed.  I fear that  people will whisper and talk behind my back,  I fear that they will ask me to leave.  For a social person, not being welcomed is a big issue. 

This little town rolled up it's streets for Spring Brake and there is nothing going on around here.  The local dance hall didn't even book musicians for the next few weekends.  Like I said, off for the week and at loose ends.  Oh well, maybe I will get motivated just enough to head to Houston.  Take my Aunt to the HLSR, hit the dance floor, and make it to a meeting, munch, or even a play party.  We'll see.

Prospect of a wonderful time

We had been talking for a few days.  Just messages back and forth on FL.  Nothing too serious, but it had potential.  That afternoon, I went and had my roots colored, carefully picked out my makeup, and outfit.  It had been so long since I had been on any kind of date.  I was excited, normal I guess for a first date.  He was going to meet me at my playground, the dance hall.  That is where I am comfortable and that is where I have friends to look out for me.  That is where I am at my best.  He is a hedonist, something new for me.  He got there late in the evening, and we spent the rest of it talking,  on occasion I would go dance.  My little was all over the place.  I had so much energy that I had to burn if off.  He is not a big dancer, and I felt guilty leaving him at the table in the middle of this crowd with out anyone to talk to.  It was very rude and bad form on my part.  I knew that I needed a buffer between us or I would slip into super sub and get myself into trouble.  And having a moment to get away and dance would work just fine.  

We talked and laughed and even danced a dance.  At the end of the evening,  he walked me to my car.  This is where I feared I would loose my backbone.  And I did.  I told him that I would gladly give him a "first date" kiss, and allowed him to take a "3rd date" kiss instead.  I even agreed to let him give me 3 spanks, what was I thinking.  I even called him Sir.  What was I thinking....  That is just it,  i had dropped into sub mode once we got away from the crowd. We made plans to have dinner Sunday evening.

As of late, and having been under so much pressure and stress, my need to play and be submissive is overwhelmingly strong.  It would not take much for me to make a big mistake or not follow my gut instincts and judgement.  I chickened out, and canceled the date.  I couldn't trust myself not to allow him to go too far.   I don't regret canceling the date.  I do, however, regret missing out on the prospect of a wonderful time with someone that could very well be honest and true.

I hate what my past relationship has done to me.  I hate the fact that hollow managed to taint a part of me that was refreshing and simple.  I hate that hollow was able to ruin me, even though he did not damage my heart.  I hate that after 6 months,  I am still damaged and needing to be played, but do not have the confidence in myself to let it happen.  I currently hate being me.

Houston

Monday I headed South to so see my BFF.  This was my first trip to Houston after the breakup.  I don't think I have ever had such a heavy feeling of nostalgia, at least that is what I think I was feeling.  I wanted to drive through town to all my old haunts.  I longed for an EROS or H-NLA meeting, but Saturday and Sunday were already gone,  I thought about heading to the little bar downtown where they had the meetings just to have a beer, but no one I knew would have been there.  I thought about going to the Eagle, but again, no one would have been there.  I went shopping instead.  Bought a killer pair of leather boots and a fake fur coat.  Nothing like leather and furies to make a girl feel better.  I found my self doing a lot of reminiscing.  Thankfully, Houston holds mostly good memories so the time there was more bitter/sweet than painful.  I longed for what I once enjoyed, the friendship and camaraderie of the acquaintances I once had.  I am not sure that I would be warmly welcomed any more.  Thanks to hollow burning bridges and the poisonous things that other one said of me.  I mourned for the loss and suffered a tight chest coming and going through Houston.   It was hollow's choice to keep our mouths shut and not defend what other one was saying,  part of me wishes I had, another part of me resents my pride that supported his decree, and another part of me knows the decision was the right one.  But in the end, it was my social standing that was ruined.  Me being labeled an interloper and home wrecker........  Truth is, other one and I were both played.   

In my mind I can imagine the sly conversations in which he subtly brought up the idea of bringing in a new member to their Leather Family, or starting a Leather Family.  Patiently waiting for other one to ask for a girl.  And the silent thrill of  triumph that hummed through his veins when she asked him if they could start looking for a girl to join their family.  He confessed once that he "managed opportunities" for her and I to spend more time together.  He also mentioned after she left, for the 3rd time, that he had been planing on releasing her before he met me and he was not going to take her back again.  I have to wonder about the conversations I had missed out on and what had been said about me considering the not so pleasing things he has said about her.  He had mentioned looking for a new member to join our family not long before he asked me to move out.  I told him I was not ready and if we ever did, I wanted a boy.  I often wish that I could just ask her, but that is not an option.  She has moved on, is in a wonderful place, and I like that she is happy. 

He also played a game in which he basically told me that I was a slave, and that he wanted me to accept it.  Once I had decided his definition of  "slave" was the correct one, to come and "talk to him about it."  Almost an unvoiced threat that he would not consider a new contract otherwise.  I never did have that "talk" and look where it got me.  I know that not long before he let other one leave, and he did let her leave, she had publicly claimed the title slave,  I have to wonder if he had played the same kind of game with her.  Subtly calling or suggesting she take the title.  So many questions, so few answers.   Words left unsaid.  Words that may very well never be said.

The community here is too small to be safe.  I keep my distance and only have a few locals saved as friends on FL.  They really do not have parties or munches.  I worry about setting up "dates" and  getting hurt in a not fun way.  However, that might be my only choice.   Wish me luck.......

I am happy to be home, but miss my Houston life still, if not more today than I did last week.  Maybe next time I will manage to be in Houston on a Saturday and get to go to a play party or two.

New Years with Friends

I spent the New Year with my best friend in Houston.  I was so in the need to see her.  We cleaned, cooked, drank, shopped and watched about $400.00 of fireworks along with a side of cheep bubbling wine.  Some of her family came in,  I love everyone in her family, but I do have my favorites, and the favorites were the ones I got to see.  They asked about other one and hollow....mainly curious as to what happened.  Uncle Sparky has had a hard year, a few heart attacks and some issues with his diabetes and really liked hollow, and hollow liked him in return.  I let him have the bare bones, didn't want to ruin his vision of what, at one point, was a wonderful man.  I also showed off pictures of other one's fiance.  I did smile when I showed him how happy other one is.  I am happy for her, why shouldn't I smile in reaction to the beautiful images of her love and their new life.  I thought it would be hard bringing up the past, but it wasn't.    I have no animosity or pain to spend on a man that has no respect. compassion, or love for me.  

It was an exhausting and wonderful 3 days of fun with the people that I hold dear to my soul.  I packed my things up this morning, and with a heavy heart, kissed everyone good bye and headed north back home.

 I dread going back to work on Monday, it will be so hard after having been off 2 weeks.

Time

Time is precious.  Time is a commodity I feel like I no long have.  I get up in the morning and go to work.  I am there by 6:30 am and end up leaving well past 7:00pm, only to end up in my office on Saturday doing it all over again.  I really wanted to go to Houston this weekend and hag out with a few of my LS friends, however, I had a class that I could not miss.  I love what I do for a living, I just wish work would slow down.  Let me catch my breath.  Play a little.  I have managed to go dancing quite a bit over the last few weeks.  But dancing is not burning off the edge.  I will keep my fingers crossed that I can make it into Houston to play in a few weeks.

I have been avoiding FL.  Nothing on there seems to appeal to me these days.  I don't even look at the Kinky and Popular.  I did get on and post a pic.  In the Halloween spirit that is.  Other than that, I find it full of fodder.  It is not important to me anymore.  I do have an account on CM.  I check it out once in a blue moon.  A few men have caught my eye, but I am too busy to chat, and they loose interest.  Things will slow down at work, or so I keep telling myself.  They just have to.

Saying Good by

Wow, the last few months have been crazy.  I went back to work and have not had a weekend off yet.  Between helping out here on the farm and working from 7:00 am to 6:pm fixing my department,  I have not had much time to myself.   Tonight is the first night in months that I have taken the time to actually sit down at my computer here at home.  There are just places that I can not go on my work Ipad or computer.  

How am I holding up, well I have not had much time to worry about romance or Dominants that is for sure.  I had started talking to someone, and then just kind of quit.  He lives in Dallas, and I live way down here.  I just had too much on my plate with starting a new job in a department that is getting chewed up and regurgitated by the government.  Hopefully, things will slow down enough that I can reconnect with him and see where it goes.

Last month was hard.  My niece and nephew came to visit for just over 2 weeks.  The day that they were supposed to leave, we got a call from one of my uncles and was informed that one of the other ones had a heart attack on the golf coarse and was dead.  We had the memorial service on August 14, 2013.  He had wanted to be cremated, so there was no funeral.  We had the service today, which fell on the same weekend as Beyond Vanilla XXIII, so my hopes for a fun filled weekend in Dallas were a no go, but I do not regret going to the Celebration of life/Funeral.  I have come to understated that family is more important than social events as of late..  It was nice seeing all the family and loved ones that got to share in his life stories.  Uncle Phill was the middle child of 5, only 55 years old.  He actually died on the anniversary of my Great- Great-Grandmother's death, Aug 11, 1963.  

 This was one of his favorite pictures.  It was taken at Circle 8 Rodeo Grounds.  He loved being a rodeo clown, and in this one, he was trying to help out an injured rider, and ended up getting the blunt of the action.  That is him on the right getting bulldozed by the business end of the bull. 

He was an amazing man that left behind stories that would make you shake your head one minute and laugh so hard the next that you would pass out.

WE LOVE YOU UNCLE PHILL!!!!!

I miss him dearly but know that he is having a blast hanging out with my Grandparents in heaven.

This and That

I start work in just a few days.  It feels good.  I have accomplished my dreams, now if I can just keep those dream a reality...

I have had my niece and nephew for the past week and a half.  It has been a whirlwind.  Board games, video games, put put, sight seeing, riding the horses, catching coons in the live trap and setting them free a few miles away...  A never ending parade of entertainment.  It is exhausting, but I am playing catchup for having been away for so long.  I had forgotten just how precocious family really is.  I spent the last 3 years focused on one man and neglected my obligations to family.  Being home these last few months has reminded me that there is more to life.  We all pay no attention to the giant pink elephant hiding in the corner, but at the same time, remember that it is there.  My dad's condition could change any moment, but yet we avoid talking about it.  Cancer sucks.  That simple, it just sucks.  Having his grand kids around is good for him.  My Grandfather died before I was born and I never got the chance to make memories with him like my niece and nephew are getting to do with theirs. 

My daughter would be 21 this year.  Her birthday is around the corner.  It is a relief as well as a sorrow knowing that this year I will have the time to go see her.  I always look forward to the trip, but my heart hurts all the same.  It has been almost 5 years since I made the trip to the cemetery where she is buried.  It is hard to believe that she would be an adult.  I still feel like a child in many ways.  I often wonder at how different my life would have been had she not died.  I often wonder who she would have turned out to be.   I find myself wanting more and more to have children, but I can not.  I think more and more about adopting.  I am getting older, the chances of me finding someone to spend the rest of my life with is getting slim.  It is time I focused on me and what I want for my future.  I just have to figure out what my options are, and what I am willing to sacrifice.

I have neglected my post as of late, I promise to try to write every day.

What is in a Name

About 2 hours after the other one left, he decided that he didn't want to hear her name any longer.  Some where along the way, I began calling her "the other one."  Occasionally, she would come up in conversation and he knew who "the other one" was.  So it stuck.  To me it was a recognition that she had once been an important part of our relationship.  To him, it was avoidance of her name.

I have been reflecting on how I feel, or rather don't fell about my X-fiance.  I am indifferent.  I don't waste any tears, anger, frustration, heartache on him.    However, I think he was done with me long before I was ever indifferent.  He said things and did hurtful things that destroyed part of what made me lovable and love him.  In my mind and heart there is an empty space where once echoed beautiful memories of him and love.  Now that space is a void.   To me he is an emotionless unfilled space or cavity, a dream lacking in real value, sincerity, and substance.  In my mind he is hollow.  

I believe that she will always be the other one.  I will always miss her laughter, and wish her the best.   I can only hope that one day,  I can look back on him and not be hollow.  Remember more of the good and less of the horrible.

Wharton

I have a pet frog.  Yes I know, kind of strange, but aren't we all considered strange?  For a long time, he was in a terrarium that stood across the room from my computer.  Now, he is on the desk, just to the left of my monitor.  He sits at his preferred spot, and watches me at the computer. Today he sloughed his skin.  He does this about once a month.  It is a strange process where he uses his feet to pull off a very thin layer of useless dry skin.    He is now a bright and shiny green.  Almost as if he is starting over with a new skin.  I wish starting over where that easy for me.   

I wonder at how good his life is and how lucky he is sometimes.  Food on a regular basis.  Warmth from the heating pad all day.  Fresh water every day.  Entertainment from watching me and the cats.   Nothings trying to eat him.  All good right?  Then I wonder how horrible his life is.  Trapped in a 13in by 20in glass box.  The same food everyday.  No where to go except the few features in his terrarium.  No adventure.  No female companions....  There are 2 views to his life.  His view point looking out.  And mine, looking in.

There are 2 sides to every story.     When the other one left, she said a lot of very negative things about me.  I ignored them as best I could.  I missed her dearly.  She was the sunshine in our relationship. She was the source of most of our laughter. I understood that she was resentful and angry.  She saw me as an interloper, an enemy.  She walked out that day with out letting me know that I was the reason she was leaving.  She left me with questions.  She left me with out warning.   I didn't find out until later when hollow came home that she left because of me.    I am sure that there are conversations that I was not privy to that led to her leaving.  I am sure that I will never know the particulars.  I only have one side to the story, and that one has many holes in it.   I don't contact the other one.  I leave her in peace to get on with her life.  I do know that she has found happiness, and I am very happy for her.

There are 2 sides to my recent story.  Neither one is pretty.    There is the side of the story that paints a girl fighting to make a committed relationship work.  Then there is a side of the story that tells of how she died a little every day being in a glass box.  

All Wharton has known his entire life is a glass box.  He was hatched in a small white plastic container.  Then moved into a glass box.  Shipped in a white plastic container and put up for sell in another glass box.  He came home with me in a white plastic container and I put him in a glass box.  He does not pine away missing the thrill of hunting his own food.  Or pout at being alone.  He is after all, just a frog.  Lucky frog.

Being Me

I have not been on line for a few days.  I have stayed away from the computer completely.  I have been busy doing other things that I love.  Things that I had forgotten I loved.  Things that I quit doing because hollow didn't do them and I felt guilty doing with out him.

About 15 of us went on a road trip Saturday to go try a different dance floor.  We had a blast.  I danced for over 2 hrs strait.  I am feeling the pain today, but it was worth it!  I have few passions in life.  One is dancing.  I put my favorite past times away, like broken toys.  I forgot how much they meant to me.

I am still beating myself up for what I allowed to become of me. For allowing the person I was to disappear into the shadows in order to make him happy.  So,  I have to decided to fix the parts of me that I allowed to be broken and forgotten.   I will be going dancing at least 3 times a month.  I will be taking dance/exercise classes as soon as I can find something.  I used to go dancing 3 to 5 nights a week.  Not to drink or hook up.  I went to dance.  Grab a partner and do some East Coast or West Coast Swing , Polka, Waltz, Cha Cha, Night-Club, Two Step, Double Two Step....

I am also waiting for the community pottery class to start back up.  I need to start doing my art again.  I lost track of my hopes and dreams of one day having my own instillation.  I will be saving up some money and putting together a portfolio that I can use to apply to galleries.  I have not done a serious piece of art in over 3 yrs.  All of my supplies have gone to rot.  I let it all corrode. 

I will be going on a diet.  I need to lose some weight to get healthy, and to feel good about myself again.  My  BFF has already started and has lost 12 lbs.  The challenge is on. 

It is time I seriously returned to being me, and not the shell and shadow I became for him.

Time at Home

I took the day off from studying files and organizing my office.  I hung around the ranch instead and did the laundry, washed the dog, mucked out the stables, removed pounds of spiderweb from the stalls, helped hang new feed buckets, and did the things I had been putting off.    Enjoyed every minute hanging out with my Daddy.  Work is not so horrible when you are doing it for people that you love and love you in return.

I even edited quite a few photos.  Cleaned up my Facebook photos (removed all the pictures of hollow and me) and did some art work.  It is amazing how much you can enjoy life when you are not worried about doing something wrong or that you forgot to do something in the first place.

I was so caught up in a failing relationship that I neglected my real family.  Now he would argue that I could have gone to visit at any time, but that is not how a submissive works.  I hated asking for favors for myself.  If hollow had been the astute master he claims to be, he would have told me to to visit my family knowing that I do not do things for myself but for him.  He should have assured me that I needed to go home for a visit and that he would be fine on his own.  Well, that never happened.  I have seen my family 2 times in 3 years.  Once for Thanksgiving in 2010 and the second for Christmas in 2012.   Now I am home making up for lost time.  I found out about a week after I got home, that the surgery and radiation my dad went through did not get all the cancer.   I am torn between finding a place of my own and living on the ranch.  I want both.   My dad needs me as much as I need him.  However, I need my space.   I am using this summer to do a little Dad/Daughter bonding.  Depending on how his health holds up,  I am hoping to be in my own little place by December.  As it is, going to play parties and munches is out of the question.

Sad news,  the only dance hall worth going to, closed down last week.  Guess I will be doing more traveling to Houston to dance and go to meetings/parties....Wait, is that bad news?  Or just another reason to get to go hang out with my friends in Houston EROS and attend more play parties...  HUMMM..   Something for me to think on.  Grin..........

Of Slaves and Submissives

My Great Grandparents are buried in a Slave Grave Yard.  I know,  I don't look like I am black!  Well,  keep in mind that biologically I have 8 Great Grand Parents.  One was Cuban Mulatto the other just black, both were decedents of slaves.  The other six were a mix of Spanish, Cherokee, French, and Irish.   In a strange way,  I am proud that I am the descendant of slaves.  I do not perceive the title slave as an insult.

Once upon a time a slave was a person that was forced and sold into slavery.  In BDSM it is a life style choice.   People that bought slaves looked at them as an investment.  Slaves had no choice in the way they lived, no voice in how they were treated.  They were given the minimal of needs.   A roof over their head, clothes on their back, and just enough food to keep them alive.  Masters/Owners kept their investments and treasured possessions healthy and productive.  Had breading programs to produce more workers.  Once a slave became non-productive, they were traded, or sold.  Now don't get me wrong, there were those owners, that saw slaves as expendable.  They would starve them and work them to death.   I find it ironic that even today, there are both good slave Masters/Owners and bad slave Masters/Owners.  I have heard plenty of horror stories about the bad, and been lucky enough to meet some of the good.

Slave:

1. (Law) a person legally owned by another and having no freedom of action or right to property

2. (Business / Industrial Relations & HR Terms) a person who is forced to work for another against his will

3. a person under the domination of another person or some habit or influence

Submissive

1. inclined or ready to submit; unresistingly or humbly obedient.

2. marked by or indicating submission.

Being submissive does not mean that I have no strength or opinion.  However, being a slave means that you are entitled to neither.  If your Master chooses to let you have a voice and choice, that is his or her allowance.  I have a mind and an opinion.  I have the ability to think and say what I believe to be just, correct, needed, and desired.  Just because I use both my mind and my voice, does not mean that I am not submissive, it does, however, mean that I would make a horrible slave.

Not too long ago hollow asked me to declare myself a slave.  I was put in a very uncomfortable situation, pressured and all but forced to declare the title and I couldn't do it.  I am not a slave.  I just could not do it.  I see the title slave as that of a person that has no options.  In order for me to be a slave, I have to trust that my Sir is taking into account what I would want, what I might need, and how I might feel.  My Master would have to know me so well that everyone in the room would think he was psychic.  

I think that in my past, I was over looked too often. Too many choices have been made that did not take into account what I needed or didn't need in my life.  Too many times I was overlooked in the decisions that were made.   I can see me being labeled as a slave one day.  However, I have to feel safe,  protected, and loved by the person I would be calling Master.  Feel that I am his first priority and that he has only the best intentions for me.  That even in the smallest decisions, he is taking my desires into consideration.   Until then,  I am simply submissive.   I am not submissive to everyone, just like I can not be a slave to just any one.

The Other Woman

I want to be angry,  I do.  I want to be upset, I really do.  At least that would mean that in some way I care about hollow and what he is doing.  But I just can not get there.  I am irritated at my ignorance and trust.  I am mortified that I allowed myself  to be treated the way I was, and wasn't.  However, all my negative emotions are aimed at me.  I am beating myself up for being a follower, a patsy, a tool.  Looking on the bright side, it was a lesson learned, and like most good lessons, it was learned the hard way.

I got an email from an ex- coworker today,  she said that "guy" had posted a picture of another woman already on his page.  She was angry at him.  She is very protective of me.   It took me a bit to really convince her that I didn't care.  Took her even longer to come down from her tizzie. 

All that picture proves is that he used me and more proof that there was no love reciprocated.  He has moved on and is already playing with other people, that is how little I meant to him.  That's cool. Somewhere out there is the right woman for him, and if she turns out to be it,  than I am happy for her.  

I find myself on occasion fretting that I am now emotionally scared for life and that this indifference will effect my next relationship.  Then turn around and berate myself for being silly.  The only thing I did wrong was trust and try.  I didn't sleep around, go to meetings behind his back, search for more than "friends" on line......  I was the best I could be with what I had to work with.  I will be fine.   I am happy, content and focused, although a little restless and wanting to play very badly.   That will come in time.

Lemmings and Lambs

I once wrote a post about blind faith.   I have always seen myself as being to independent to posses such a character trait.  I am however, dedicated to a fault.  I will take care of others to the point of neglecting me and the things that make me happy.   The rant about faith came after reading a post on a blog from an acquaintance on FL.   I will not go into detail, but after reading several of his posts, I was astounded that he had put himself as well as the others through such turmoil.  In essence he referred to his submissives as the slaves he knew they could become.  I would read his posts and my heart would heart hurt for all them.....IF YOU LOVE SOMEONE, YOU LOVE THEM FOR WHO THEY ARE, NOT WHAT YOU WANT TO MAKE THEM BECOME.  That is not love, that is a dream on the future.  I know in the end, that no one in that relationship left happy.  As an outsider looking in,  I felt sympathy for all involved.   I now feel empathy for all involved. 

 I was living under a delusion that it was me he loved.  When in fact it was the idea of being in love that he loved.  In the end,  we all crashed and burned.  After the other one left, the relationship changed.  We only played one time between the day she left and the day I finely walked out the door.   There was always an excuse not to play.  I knew they were excuses, but I ignored that small voice in my head.  I made agreements, hid my disappointment, and allowed the delusion to continue.

I miss the play.  Play, for me, is a therapy, not a turn-on.  Play was something that helped me sleep at night.  Not a precursor to rough sex.  Hell, I don't even like rough sex.  I want a man to worship me after he beats me with multiple torture devices.  I want a Dominant that thinks I am the most prized possession he could ever own.  I want a Dominant that plays hard, then does what ever it takes to protect me form all the bad.  I know what I want, so why on earth did I put up with something that was not what I wanted or needed?   I was such a lemming and lamb, that I followed without questioning myself, until I found myself in a place where following was causing psychological and emotional harm.  It was about that time, that I wrote the entry "Blind Faith".  I had lost all faith and trust in my owner, and was finely beginning to question my position in our relationship and his ability to be the man and dominant I needed to follow.

The more I ask myself the deep disturbing questions and play the "Why did I...?" game, the more and more I realize that both of us were living a dream and a desire, we never really loved each other, just the idea of each other.  

Social at Heart

There once was a time that I wrote on my blog almost daily.   I was happy then.  I had big things to boast about.  Wonderful news and for the most part happy thoughts.  The posts became less frequent and then almost never.  Then I quit writing.  The happier I was, the more I wrote; the less content, the less I wrote.

Once upon a time I was a social butterfly.   I had plans almost every day that evolved being around people.   That changed over 2yrs ago.   I found myself flipping back and forth between 3 web sights all evening.  Pinterest, FL, FaceBook, Pinterest, FL, FaceBook....over and over.  Slowly going crazy.    I died a little ever day, slowly smothered with boredom.   Cabin fever became my constant companion.    I sat alone in the living room with my cats in a silent house.  Always hoping hollow would walk through and ask if I wanted to go to a play party or a meeting,  he never did.   I think in 2 years we went to 2 meetings,  and never stayed for the play party after. 

Why did I stay so long?  I ask myself the "Why did I's" almost every day.    I always come back to the same answer.  Fear.  Fear of not having the savings to go.  Fear of what would come of me.  Fear of being able to survive with out him.  Fear that was unwarranted.   I have family,  I have friends, and I have inner strength and a determination to survive.  I stayed far too long,   I tried far too long,  I hoped far too long,  I dreamed far too long,  I held on far too long and  I stopped living far too long.  Well,  I am living now.

Up Side

My parents are worried.  Why? Because of the absence of sorrow, the absence of his name, the absence of concern.   I am indifferent.  I have no words of anger spilling from the recesses of my mind.  No moments of melancholy.   No dramatic scenes of sadness with tears trickling from my eyes.  Just a determination to get past that relationship and put my life on track.   I got a job in my career field and and love the people that I am working with.  Reconnected with most of my vanilla friends.  Talk to my BFF almost daily, and plan on heading her way in a week or so.  If  I plan it right, will get to go to an EROS meeting while there.  Life is looking up, slowly, but looking up all the same.

I look back on the last 1.5 years and have to shake my head and wonder what the hell was I thinking.  Why did I put up with all of it?  There was no love there.  Just wasted years and lots of frustration.  he destroyed the trust, faith, friendship, compassion, and love that I had for him.   Not me,  I didn't consciously wrap it up in a freezer bag and throw it away.  I fought to keep it for years.  Saying my vows every night, kissing him good by and hello every day.  Asking to help or do things for him.  Hoping every day that he would show some sign of wanting to be my Dominant again.  Crying in bed late at night, when he told me not to worry about saying my vows.  I have no more tears.  I am no longer confused or frustrated.  I am no longer walking on egg shells worried that I will do or say something that would piss him off.   All of that negative fodder is gone.  Left behind is a freedom.  A conscious desire to do things for myself that are not an alternative but a priority.  

Now, I am trying to make up for those years of  dedication I wasted on him.  Reconnecting with people he didn't want me to have contact with is one of my desires.  Getting my feet under me after being left destitute is my priority.   Moving on from that relationship is my objective.  I know that if I go to a meeting, there will be questions.  Questions with expectations of answers accompanied with tears and anger, but there is not any.  He smothered any love I had for him.   I wish him all the best, but I do not care how he is doing, what he is doing, who he is doing, or where he is doing it.  I am indifferent.  It is a strange place for me.  It is in my nature as a submissive to worry and care for the people in my life.  I just can not muster up any emotions concerning him.  

My parents are worried, but right now,  I am fine.

The End

I think on many levels the relationship was doomed from the beginning.   How naive of me to think that my first D/s poly relationship would be a dream come true. Our relationship was based on a poly/play foundation.   Both fell to the wayside.   One of our poly walked away,  and shortly after,  so did the public play scenes and play altogether.  I missed "the other one",  I think we both did.  Truth be told,  I love public play.  Sex is not what I went into the lifestyle for.  We grasped at options, settled on a dream, got engaged and moved in together.  In all honesty, we took things too far and fell in love with the idea of the relationship, and not with each other.   I quit seeing hollow as being the man I fell in love with, and he quit seeing me as the woman he fell in love with.  Our dynamic evolved in the wrong direction.  When you quit being a unit,  and quit doing the things that were the foundation of that relationship,  there is a very good chance that it is going to fall apart.  We fell apart so dramatically, that I no longer want to be in a D/s relationship as a submissive.  That volatile relationship has left a very unsavory concept and definition to that lifestyle.  I do not doubt that I am a submissive,  however,  it makes me wonder as to what really makes my perfect dominant.

I blame both of us and yet I blame no one. I am sure that if we both had possessed the desire to fix our problems, we could have.  At this point there is no reason to play the "What if or Could have" game.  It is over and no one managed to get ahead and win.  He has moved on, actually been seen by some of my friends at play parties, playing....  Something he has not done with me in over 2 yrs.   Evidence that he never really loved me, but the idea of me, from the beginning.  The lack of heartache I am feeling is just another piece of evidence that I did the same.

It is said that we learn more from our failures than from our achievements in life.   Well,  I guess you can say that I have learned a lot in the last 3.5 years.  Hopefully,  the lesson was bitter enough that I do not repeat it.