First off, let me appologize for my lack of writing the last couple of months. Summer was hellish, and while fall so far has been diffuclt it has not been nearly as insurmountable. I have multiple drafts that I have started that I hope to post in the next week or so.. so pardon the spam. There is much that has transpired, and I’m sure much to come.
I’m currently sitting in Wicked Grounds, enjoying my pre-BaGG ritual. Come to the city, get noms, curl up, social, get pretty and go to BaGG. In the middle of that there is usually dueling with James, some banter, and my dear friends and Daddy appearing and joining in the fun.
As is typical, James and I show up first. I no longer have the option of spending long afternoons here on Wednesday.. I have a big girl job now, and typically show up around 5:30. James, depending on his work shift, typcially beats me. Today he looks more frayed around the edges than in days passed…and I am protective.
James just got back into his home on Sunday. The fires that have been raging through Napa and Sonoma county forced him and his family to evacuate. For nearly a week he lived in a shelter, went to work, and dealt with the world asking him how he was, how he was doing, if he was alright. So. I did the opposite. I did my plug of ‘you know if you need anything, I’m here’, got growled at, and promptly challenged him to a duel.
He kicked my ass, as he always does. He also smiled.
Caring for someone like James has never been easy.. it likely never will be. It is especially difficult to be close to him when he’s having a hard time of it. James under more stress than his normal overly-full-I-sleep-twice-a-week-dear-godde-how-do-I-still-function plate results in him practically foaming at the mouth, and while everyone else he can act for he long since stopped performing with me. I get the growls and snaps he can’t let loose on anyone else. It’s not healthy..but I’ve learned how to navigate and diffuse him so that he doesn’t snap at others, to the point where when he has a cranky night during a citadel event I get shoved into the back room first to do what I can before anyone else will come hang out.
It’s..hard. Because I can tell he’s going through hell. He will drop hints of it. That things are more right than wrong, but he’s not up to telling stories and I’m not asking. I’ve been trying to make things as normal as possible… but. Oww. Just. Oww.
I can see it wearing on Ryan. When James is backed into a corner he boarders on cruelty, and Ryan is my Daddy. My protective, wonderful, loving and kind Daddy that knows how to communicate, how to express his feelings and how not to take it out on others. There are times lately where I wished James had someone else. That I wasn’t his emergency everything that he never acknowledges but knows is there when shit hits the fan. But. He doesn’t. And so I try to take care of myself while doing as James asks and not more.
I keep thinking about Napa. About walks around the green college and curling up together on a bench in the park. About the wooded drive to James’s front door, the discussions years ago about going stargazing and laying in the back of Vera, James’s old truck, and telling stories of everything and nothing. Bringing hot cocoa because James doesn’t like coffee and cookies of the chocolate variety, because they are his favorite. I think about missing his driveway every other time because it’s so secluded and hidden away. About every time I’ve dropped James off since Vera died, climbing out of the car to get the parts for his chair and gazing up at the stars filling the Napa sky. My heart breaks.
I don’t know what that sky looks like right now. I know there are stars, but are they visible to the people that have lost so much? I don’t know what of the farm is still left other than the house itself. There were animals that they couldn’t take to the shelter. There were crops. Now there’s smoke and fumes.
James has an event on Friday that I drove him to last year, when I had the ability to take days off whenever I wanted. I work a 9-5 now, and he needs to be there Friday morning. So, I’ll be waking up at the asscrack of dawn, driving to Napa, then driving on another two hours to deliver James to his final destination before driving back and trying to make it to work at 9 a.m…and then working for eight hours. Why?
Four years ago, almost five, my aunt passed away. She was the glue holding my family together and on the list of people in my head that were never allowed to die. Ever. And she did. Cancer. My mother and I had to watch it eat at her, and it was horrible. We couldn’t stop it. Couldn’t help. We just watched the most precious person in both our lives slip away.
About two days later I was still home. The wake was the next day and I was in a fog. I came down the stairs from my childhood bedroom to find my mother sitting on the kitchen floor, staring at the oven. I asked her what she was doing, and she replied matter of factly that she was making a soufflé. It’s something she had never done before. She decided today was the day and was watching it rise.
I didn’t understand it then. But. Now? Making a soufflé was what she could do in that moment. So. She did.
James is a beast right now. The Dragon is loose and beyond my taming abilities. He bites. He snarls. I can not make things better.
But I can give him a ride.
I can’t put the fires out. But I can dust off a small section of ash.
Yours, still standing
I needed to decompress, and of course he knew that. Daddy knew about my bad days, and that I had been squirmy most of the week… Daddy lets me tease him sometimes with pretty distractions from Tumblr. Whenever I ask if I should stop distracting him, Daddy says, “don’t you ever, kitten.” And I smile. A lot.
Yesterday we were both tired. We had been running, trying to adult on both ends, and it meant that we finally got to calm down and focus on each other hours into when our date technically ‘started’. I love tagging along to Daddy errands and helping…but we were both squirmy and tired and…we didn’t watch as many cartoons as we normally do.
I was wearing big girl clothes from a job interview earlier in the day; sheer black pantihose and a form fitting deep red dress that has always brought me luck in the past. I had kept the clothing on on purpose. I knew Daddy would love the outfit, and I knew that there were several runs in the pantihose, meaning that it had lived its lfe and deserved to die an honorable death.
I found out several months ago that a meta I have become fast friends with had a fondness for sharps. This is a fondage we VERY much share. I have enjoyed knife play since before I ever identified as kinky. I’m a sensation slut, and the cool steel against skin combined with the adrenaline of the fact that it can easily slice my flesh (because, YES, I love playing with working blades) for some reason makes me absolutely drenched. My body and mind still, and I all but purr when the blade skims over my flesh. I like to share with partners, and gift-giving is a huge part of my love language.. For some reason blades are high up in the hierarchy of gifts I give if I love someone. If I give you a blade, you are a significant fixture in my life.. You mean something. Chris has a blade from me that he often beats me with. James has countless blades from me of different styles (him being an avid sharps collector himself). Ryan has received two blades from me so far as I endeavor to grow his sharps collection for all of our pleasure.
Daddy led me of the couch and through his apartment, stopping briefly to pick up one of the blades I had given him. “Come with me, kitten” he purred, sadist smile on his face as he led me to the bedroom.
He slipped my pretty red dresss up and off, setting it safely aside before spinning me and having me face the bed. I heard the click of the knife coming out and bit my lip, holding off an orgasm when I hadn’t asked permission yet.
He attacked my waistband first, making quick work of it and my upper thighs. ” Oh goodness.. How attached to these panties are you, kitten?” Apparently, Daddy had sliced through the back of them. They still stood, but my red lace panties now had a slit right above my naughty back door.
There are times when Daddy is incredibly tender with me. He holds me, REALLY holds me, cradling me to his chest while I sit in his lap or simply surrounding me with his body. He makes me feel small, and safe, and cherished, and every time he’s done it in that moment it was the best feeling on the entire planet.
This was not one of those times. All the pretties from Tumblr in the last week had been rough. Being fucked with a hand wrapped around the throat or covering the nose, or both. Face fucking. Lots, and lots of face fucking. Hair pulling. Fucking within an inch of your life. I REALLY needed to be taken, and take Daddy did.
He grabbed me by my throat and squeezed before turning me and pushing me on to the bed, so that I was looking up at him. I couldn’t see the knife anymore. Daddy was on top of me, choking me, pushing down on my chest, teasing me. I sqirmed, I cried. He made me cum, purring out “cum for Daddy” over and over again.
He moved down my body, off the bed at one point. I felt cold, cool steel between my legs and then heard the sound of lace tearing. He sliced my panties further, exposing my bare princess parts. The legs and waistband were still in tact and Daddy hesitated. ‘Oh fuck’, I thought, ‘he’s going to fuck me through the panties.
And then his face lowered between my legs. Something he has, never, ever done before… I’m 90% positive that some of the mental, ‘oh fuck oh fuck oh fuck’s became audible at that point as Daddy teased my clit with his tongue. I get eaten out once on a very rare occasion. I’m an internal girl, and so it’s not something I honestly ask for when I know a partner has talented fingers and an amazing talented cock. There was something about the image, though, of Daddy’s head between my legs when I’ve so often been between his, that caused a ripple of pleasure I hadn’t expected. It was.. hot, the image almost surpassing the act itself. Almost.
The scruff of his beard created an usually delightful sensation as he teased and taunted licking and sucking and poking and doing godde knows what while I gripped the bedding like my life depended on it and tried not to curse as I slowly came undone. I cum at the drop of a hat…with almost anything. Only two partners have ever gotten me to cum while eating me out. It’s just a rarity to me.. I’ve faked it in the long past to make partners happy back when I was monogamous.. but..fuck.. There was no faking anything last night. Daddy drove me over the edge before crawling off just long enough to cut off the last of the panties, baring my pussy completely before he climbed on top and slid inside of me, fucking me with a hand wrapped around my throat. He came close to choking me out a couple of times… it’s a sensation I greatly enjoy and ahve missed… I trust Ryan enough that I think I honestly would enjoy him chocking me out and fucking me… but part of me is afraid of squicking him out with how rough I am willing to play and how much I trust him…
Thoughts for another day.
He fucked me, thoroughly manhandling me and positioning me as he pleased. I came, and came, and came, coming undone again and again, wrapped around his cock. Daddy is good to me. He always makes sure I cum a couple dozen times when he’s enjoying his hole.
He slipped out and decorated me, making a mess as he growled out an order to come with him. I, of course, did, and was all but purring by the time he cleaned both himself and I up and crawled back into bed. He pulled me into his arms, both of us panting and sweaty, and slowly, our breathing calmed and synched. Before I knew it I was asleep, surrounded in a cacoon of warmth and afterglow.
I still haven’t figured out how. But somehow, Daddy seems to always know exactly what I need.
Yours still purring,
I’m sure this will surprise most of you.
There was a time, long ago and far away, when I was an innocent virgin girl.
Okay, it was LONG ago and far away, but it was indeed a thing. I was a virgin until seventeen. At sixteen, I was restless. My libido was in full swing and I rarely slept before two or three a.m. during the summer months (…that hasn’t changed much). So, being a restless 90’s child, I would go onto one of the few forms of electronic entertainment that I had that wouldn’t cause a lot of noise. I went on to online chat rooms, back in the day when most internet people were catfish and it was still much more of a dangerous place.
On one of those restless nights, I got lucky. I met a twenty-one year old from North Dakota. He and I stayed up until the wee hours of the morning. He told me of his visits to Rome and Helsinki, far away exotic places that I had very little concept of back then. My world was a cage, trapped in a small town in New Jersey, and here was a handsome man offering me a window into another world. We would talk for hours, on and on for week, and my poor little heart didn’t stand a chance. I fell. Hook. Line. Sinker. I fell for him.
Of course, it was an abstract sort of first love. There was the reality that I was a poor sixteen year old and North Dakota was far away. Visiting was an impossible idea at the time, and so I let myself love him. Because I knew I could never have him.
Time passed. Years went by. I remember the sadness that struck when Ace told me he was engaged to a local girl a couple of years later, not much older than myself. At the time I was very much monogamous, and knew that in that world marriage meant there really was no room for my little fantasy. He was lost. Someone else had won him. In the early days of his marriage we didn’t talk much, as life got in the way…but through time, from time to time, my phone would buzz and there would be a text from Ace. We would pick up right where we left off, talking about everything and nothing.
During all this my world was broadening. He was still in North Dakota, but I was in Boston for school. He would call me while running errands for his brothers or on nights alone while his wife was out and we would talk into the wee hours of the morning as we once had. Gradually Skype became a more normalized thing and we saw each other’s faces… and other things sometimes. There was always a flirty energy between us…and often that would cause blocks of silence where we couldn’t talk to one another. Feelings would rear ugly heads and we just…couldn’t. But we never fully left each other’s lives. I would watch his posts. He would watch mine. We always found one another again and continued to talk.
It’s been almost ten years since he and I first began to talk. In that time I’ve had my series of relationships, including a short engagement, and moved from New Jersey to Boston to San Francisco. He picked up and went from North Dakota to North Carolina with his wife and child, and gradually began his own discovery of kink and polyamory. The stars began to align where we were once again on the same wave length as we had been a world ago. We were both poly, and kinky, and for the first time ever I had his partner’s blessing to pursue some sort of..thing with him. But. I don’t do distance anymore. It’s just too hard, and so Ace remained a relatively abstract concept.
Sometimes I make very poor, masochistic choices for the right reasons. One of those was deciding that I was going to find a way to finally, FINALLY see Ace after Fusion this year (I promise there will be a Fusion entry as well. There’s a draft, I swear). Him being an eight hour drive from the campground was the closest we had ever been to one another. He was separated from his now-ex wife, and his adorable kiddo was with grandparents for the summer… We made a date. He got off from work and I drove as fast I could after camp to make something that had been abstract for so long a reality.
Driving through con drop is not one of my brighter ideas. I was wrecked, dealing with mundane blowups (June is trying to kill me…more on that later), and frantically calling my roommate during anxiety attacks to help remind me where the break was on the car when I got out of control at one point. I was exhausted, functioning on almost no sleep, and fucking determined.
The first time I saw him, he had his back to me. He was watching TV. I let myself stand there for a moment and just take in the sight of flesh-and-blood Ace. The summer night was perfectly warm. There were lightning bugs dancing in front of his window. The air was just the slightest bit muggy. It was… surreal. It was happening. He was real.
I knocked on the door and was in his arms before I knew it, and then REALLY in his arms as he picked me up, excited. “You’re here! You’re really here! You’re real!” he said over, and over, and over, putting words to what I was thinking. He smelled surprisingly familiar, right, easy, and I quickly felt at ease in his arms. And then he kissed me…and as far as first kisses go… Whelp. Remember the ending to Princess Bride?
I am a lucky. Fucking. Bitch.
After ten years I was so afraid there would be no chemistry. Which. Would be fine. We had been forced to be platonic before. I could do it. In fact, the opposite was the case. The top had been let off of ten years of sexual tension and we couldn’t keep our hands off of each other. He gave me the tour of his apartment and I found myself craving contact with him. A hand on my hip, or in my hair, or on my ass..just to remind me that this was real. That he was real. That we were actually seeing each other.
It still feels like a dream.
I was the bad one that started stripping first. He pinned me to the ground, eagerly grinding against my ass before flipping me over and diving between my legs. I have never been so eagerly eaten out in my LIFE. I don’t like it typically. I’m an internal girl. But my Ace’s tongue is incredibly skilled. K was screaming his name and bucking under him in a matter of minutes.
There was groping, and playing, and flirting before we stumbled our way to the bedroom, both of us refusing to fully take our hands off of one another. Pardon my gloating, but my godde that boy has one of the prettiest cocks I have ever seen. He is thick enough and long enough that he’s a challenge for me to take… but not so big that I can’t deep throat him.
I hoped we would have chemistry. I didn’t expect mind-blowing sex. Again. And again. And again. We took a break for food and to sleep, but I can’t think of a point when we weren’t touching somewhere. Hands. Overlapping legs. Me snuggling into the nook of his shoulder. Not even morning breath stopped the kisses. When we weren’t kissing or fucking we were talking, just as we did eons ago. He told me the intimate details of his world. I shared more of mine.
There isn’t enough time. There never is. He took me to breakfast at an adorable coffee house. As we ate tasty treats he told me more about his amazing child and how much he loved his community. My heart twisted. I was so happy he had found home… And I selfishly wish I could take him to mine. He’s so far away. So. Damn far away.
It’s been a long time since I have been around someone who’s a soothing balm to my soul… and that’s what Ace is. He pulled me out of an anxiety attack from outside stressors faster than anyone ever has. Being around him calms me down, just as James always has.. and yet he calms me in almost the exact opposite way of James. Instead of a man of few words my Ace is a wordsmith. A beautiful, wonderful wordsmith that showered me in compliments and kind words.
There’s always been a switchy energy between us. Out of all my partners he is the one I have always felt the most equal too. We are both… fragile in certain ways. Both familiar with brain squirrels pertaining to matters of the heart. I am often pulled out of brain spirals through acts of submission. Focusing on the needs of others fixes my headspace.
I didn’t know if it would be the same for Ace. He began to spiral at one point and I just… had to fix it. A part of me came out that I didn’t know existed. A Domme. Not a service top. I dominated that sweet boy. I crawled on top of him and rode him with no inhibitions, knowing he wanted me, knowing I drove him wild. The moment he drifted I had him focus on me. I told him that all he had to worry about in that moment was pleasing me.
He called me ma’am. For the first time ever that made my pussy wet.
Yes, he was my sweet boy, and he let me fuck him at my leisure until I wanted him on top again. And then he pleased me with his cock, fucking me until we both toppled over that delicious edge.
In about 24 hours we found that edge six times, sometimes with him as the dominant partner, sometimes me. After sex we would find equilibrium again snuggling in one another’s arms. I’ve never had such a fluid relationship before. The switching happens naturally, with the top roll being filled easily in a split second by the proper partner.
I’ve never wanted to be served before. Never desidered to collar a boy and have him sit at my feet as I socialize in Wicked Grounds. I am naturally very submissive… but also very protective. The desire to help the one I love won out, and even became extremely pleasurable. He is my boy. We belong to one another.
And I am utterly fucked.
I thought foolishly getting together after ten years would sate some urges. Instead it was like lighting a powder keg. A hunger that hadn’t existed before now eats at me. I want more of my Ace, both as my sweet boy and as my Top.
We have a lot of exploring to do, he and I. This is the tip of the iceberg with our dynamic, and I know that… Now we are learning how our lives can possibly fit together. He has a partner with a child, and a child of his own to worry about. I have three partners, a complication, and a community. We both have our homes. And there is that fear of once you leave the Bay Area you can’t return. Selfishly, I want him with me, in my world. I want to show of my boy at BaGG and the citadel. And yes, I want to sleep in his arms at night.
I miss him horribly, and it’s only been a couple of days. Ten years, and it felt like coming home when I was with him. My mind is terrifying me. It’s thinking long term. And that scares me. I’m anxious to get my mark on him, to claim that part of him that submits as mine. And I am anxious for him to claim me again.
I love you, my sweet boy. I’m.. scared, but excited for the journey ahead. All will work out when the time is right, just as it always has. I will see you in my dreams ❤
Yours hopelessly in love, and suddenly switchy,
It always happens this time of year.
Fusion is approaching. This will be my third year going, and my second anniversary with Chris. I find myself… more unsettled than ever.
Technically I have four partners… I joke that I have four partners and a complication.
The first is my Sir, Chris. I’m proud of us for making it two years. There have been some… severe bumps and nightmare metamours along the way, but we’ve still managed to be a thing. I enjoy our D/s dynamic, and I find great comfort in the ease that has always existed between us when we spend time together…but at the same time I have felt more and more ‘friend zoned’ lately with him.. That spark, that desire that once had him frantically running to a 7/11 to buy condoms so that we could do it in my childhood bedroom just… hasn’t been there lately. I sleep in my dog bed, which I love, but it leaves me… wanting when I know that another partner gets to sleep beside him at night, and frequently. I’m fighting the ache of displacement with him, and honestly hope that Fusion will ease some of those aches and reinforce our dynamic. Fusion has always been good for us.. I am hopeful it will be that way again.
Then there is Grey… We are fantastic when we are together. It’s just.. The getting together part that is hard. I think the last time I saw him was around March.. I can’t even remember at this point. It’s on both of us. My schedule, his crazy life with his awesome life. Poly can be complicated, especially when you throw in the demands of work and home. I miss him, more than I’m probably willing to admit out loud. I miss his touch, him growling in my ear.. his hand wrapped around my throat while his other sneaks between my legs and..
Gah. Rabbit hole. Sorry. Summation, I miss Grey. He doesn’t even know Ryan is my Daddy; it’s been so long since we’ve seen each other…
Ryan has the patience of a saint with me at times… Easily the most emotionally accessible of my partners, he’s also human. For some reason days when I get overloaded tend to allign with the same days he is, so the few moments when I would let myself go, “I need my Daddy..” just don’t happen. I don’t let them. I can see him balancing me and my meta best he can, as well as trying to make room to date others… and he tries. He does. There are times when I just feel… forgotten. Like my meta’s shadow. Part of it is because I am the second parter. Secondary or not, I’m entering a dynamic that’s already been established, and that can be hard. She had dibs on certain days of the week long before I arrived, meaning less time for me off the bat. I’m… scared of time right now, with Ryan. I disappear for two weeks on the 18th, and then by the time I get back he’s off on a meditation retreat. I’m scared our dynamic will fizzle while I’m gone, especially when I’m off to something like Fusion. I can feel my emotional walls going up; can feel myself bracing for the inevitable letdown that my brain is convinced is going to happen. I don’t want to shove my Daddy away… If anything I want the opposite.
And then there is Ace, a partner I haven’t talked about on here. He and I have the loosest D/s dynamic.. We’ve also been on and off for almost a decade. I credit him with poking my kinky side before anyone else. When I was sixteen he and I started talking, and though there were gaps in-between he and I have never fully lost touch. Ace is currently where I was last year; dealing with the recent death of a primary relationship, and slowly gaining ground back to peace and emotional health. I’m grateful to have such a sweet, loving creature in my life…but he’s 3,000 miles away most of the time, works opposite hours of me, so that I am sleeping when he is awake and vice versa, and has so much on his own plate that tackling mine as well would be some sort of cruel joke to play on him. I won’t do that to him. It’s easier to try to help him than to try and decode my brain squirrles.
There’s my complication… the same one that’s been there for a year. James. We finally had a fundraiser for him, a week ago. For a single night I saw a James I had not seen in a year. I saw MY James. Sweet, and open, and loving, and willing to go to the deeper, darker areas that we don’t touch to keep the peace. I got my hopes up that maybe, just maybe, we were making progress… I’m not naieve enough to hope for a relationship right now, but I felt this rush of hope that maybe we were to the point where we could negotiate a scene. I wanted to kiss him, hug him. And he let me. And then he snapped back like a rubber band so hard I got whip lash. It’s been a while since he’s gotten me to cry.. Both last Wednesday and Friday he managed it, lashing out at the only safe person to do so to… My James, who does not do emotions, had to deal with a lot all at once. He’s compensating for it. I know that. But still… Godde does it hurt.
Five wonderful people. Five very different dynamics with their own separate challenges… and no anchor. That’s where I struggle. There’s no main, safe person to go to when my emotions become too much. No one to cling to to bring me back when I begin to drift away. I could reach out to Ryan, or even James..but Ryan has been so overwhelmed lately… and he has my meta. James… he overwhelmes himself, and I’m lucky to get an answer from him most days. Ace tries. He tries so hard..but my dark days are… bad. Dark. And with him trying to get over his own I don’t want to infect him with mine.
So here I sit, feeling more along than I have in a while despite all these amazing, loving people in my life. I still reach up to my bare neck and sigh, missing what used to be there; knowing that I’m not at a place where I could have that again right now. I miss the anchor of being someone’s, and that fear exists that no one will ever want me to be theirs again. That I will find all the other pieces of my puzzle.. except for that last one that makes me whole.
I try not to dwell, and to be grateful for what I have…but there are nights like tonight when I am truly lonely. My beloved roomate is curled up with her primary, more content than she has been in days because he’s here. I’m on the couch, restless at 2:30 in the morning and unable to motivate myself to sleep alone yet another night. There are these broken, jagged pieces of myself that cut away at the parts of myself that I thought I had built up… The parts that want to be a kink educator, that shine at things like Bondage a Go-Go and Citadel events. I am the little thing that does tours, and leads discussions, and is always there to get that last clean up shift to make sure that everyone gets out of the Citadel on time. I’m good at it.. I think..maybe.
Fusion, as beautiful as it is, tests me. It’s complete immersion into this world of kink for a solid week straight… and it’s a lot to take. I find myself looking at it similarly this year as I did my first. I feel..disconnected from it, unsure, overwhelmed at the idea of being gone so long and at what I will see and experience there. I don’t know if I’m open to new partners, or pick up play, or exploration with others as I have been in the past. I am freyed and covered in battle scars. You have to cut mighty deep into me to cause either pain or pleasure..and it’s hard for a stranger to get there in a week. I wish.. I wish I had some direction. Some marching orders to follow. Go to these classes. Wear these outfits because it will please me. Get pictures of yourself doing this. I miss that.
I’m going into camp with no plan or goal in mind… I hadn’t even planned on going this year. I’m going because Chris made it happen. He wanted me there, and there I shall be… but my walls are so far up with him as well. I don’t know what I’m doing, or how to make this feeling of being lost go away. I feel as if I am adrift in the middle of an ocean, miles from everyone. Unreachable. Eventually a boat will find me and fish me out, or I will drown.
And if I drown.. does it really matter? There are echos in the back of my mind. Yes. It does. No. It doesn’t. The argument as to which is the truth.
So… adrift I shall remain, in a sea of emotions that I don’t understand right now, and don’t quite know how to sort through. I suppose this is how one learns to be their own anchor. To not need anyone.
I should probably sleep.
Relationships go in cycles, or so it seems. At least, mine always have. Those who are meant to stick around in your life cycle back around in one way or another.
One of those that has cycled back for me is Cal, the person who started all of this. I still chuckle when I think about how I was when I started this journey. Monogamous, green, terrified of pain. Spankings were far from enjoyable for me and knives terrified me.
Now, most of that is the opposite.
Cal and I have danced around each other for years now… and we’re still dancing. It’s never been the right time. Things have always gotten in the way. He hasn’t been available. I haven’t been. And so, I swallowed the bits of desire that remained after his last breakup and told myself, over and over and over, I would be a safe person for him. I would be a friend.
What I didn’t factor in was that nothing about Cal is safe. At least for me.
I have several people that have always been kryptonite for me, just on a visceral level. James is one of them. He gets to me on every level. His voice, his smell, his presence… Cal is another one. When I was his mentee I would sleep in tee shirts that smelled of him. I think I still have one of his old green shirts stashed away that I sleep in on colder nights (I don’t normally wear shirts to bed. I get strangled by them). He figured out how to fuck my mind before he ever got to my body, which hardly helped things when I was first starting out. And he was protective of me. All things that give me a lady boner.
He started coming to BaGG, on and off, a couple of months ago. He saw James again (James doesn’t like him), met my Daddy and my Sir. BaGG… is a work in progress for Cal and I. The first time he got me shit faced on scotch and left me before saying goodbye and after making out with me. Several times. And telling me that he would be there long after James was gone, and we would end up together because we’re both too broken not to. The second was similar to the first, only I was more sober and stuck him on a stool for the last hour of the night to sober up while I rubbed at bruises he left on my neck. He’s into breath play, which is something I also love, but when he’s drunk his hands are very rough. And I was afraid.
Still. There had been kisses. And hugs. And he called me little one.
I found myself protective of this man, broken again by a relationship that I saw going down in flames long before it did. And I found myself terrified of him as well. He apologized for the incidents and promised to try and manage the alcohol more. He’s hurt, physically, and not eating as much as normally, and so alochol is affecting him more strongly than it normally does.
There is a war in my head when it comes to Cal. There is the good, protective friend that kinda wants to guide him back into our local scene and then there’s the submissive chomping at the bit to prove herself to him. To show what he missed. It’s the submissive that gets me in trouble, in ways that I didn’t see coming. And it’s the submissive that still.. can’t help but react to him. Smell. Voice. Presence. ESPECIALLY when he milks it. When he purrs my nickname after too many drinks and I tell my brain to shut up for a minute so I can enjoy.
He’s gotten better. We both have. Thank godde for time, firm boundaries, and bunnies. He has a new love that has slowly wrangled a lot of the darkness he has been carrying..and it means he’s behaving a lot more. And she is lovely.. Full compersion here. She’s the right age and the right temperment to actually be GOOD for him after his string of lemons, and I’m happy for him. I truly, honestly am. I just…have brain squirrels.
Last week, Cal came to BaGG. I was freshly back from a trip east and felt like absolute shit. I now know I probably had a fever..but I was determined to go. My friends wanted to see me. My meta wanted to talk about her trip and mine. I wanted my time with James. I was getting there.
I spent a good portion of the night on my knees, which were so sore they could barely support my weight. I didn’t think about this, until Cal saw me do it in the back of the smoking alley.
His hands were in my hair before I could warn him not to. He pet me gently, and I purred. Daddy was right in front of me. I knew it was safe, and Cal kept saying it wasn’t sexual. He was careful not to call me my nickname. I was careful not to call him sir. We were Cal and Rene and it was just a few head pets when I was in pain.
Later in the back room, he hugged me hard. He gets emotional after a few drinks and has a habit of thanking me for still being around.. which I appreciate. The hug captured my head. He had his hand in my hair and pulled, hard. I whimpered and reached for Daddy’s shirt, tugging just as hard. It was a signal we had agreed upon earlier in the evening that I would do when I was scared. Daddy interviened, gently pulling Cal off of me while my meta calmed me down. I blamed the last double he had and tried to shake it off.
It’s just with alcohol that I find myself on edge with Cal. When four or five drinks are removed he’s a safehaven. I crashed at his place after a play party last weekend, grateful for the couch and a day when I didn’t have to pay a bridge toll in order to get to work. He hugged me hello and I smelled him and immediately knew cuddling was out of the question. I put a big, fat blanket between he and I on the couch until he went to crash for the evening.
The next morning I tried to sneak out, dressing quickly for breakfast with Chris and scampering out the door. I dressed quickly before tossled hair and a furrowed brow stumbled outside, slightly confused. He was adorable. Bits of me melted that had been holding firm, and I smiled. He hugged me goodbye a beat too long. A dangerous beat. I wanted to kiss him.
But. I also want his head on straight. I want him established with his new parter. I want him happy and mostly whole. I want him to know that I am safe, and stable, and honestly pretty fucking close to poly saturated right now. I want to see more than one BaGG in a row without me getting scared of him physically harming me.
I want time, that lovely balm that heals all things, to finally decide the course for Cal and I. I keep telling myself that we are going to be friends. Friends are safe. Friends are good.
And all my instincts keep wanting more.
Yes, Cal is my teacher from a world ago, but lately we’ve been teaching each other. We talk daily, reading one another and keeping each other in check. For now, this is healthy.
I don’t know. Time will tell. Time always tells. For now, I have brain squrrels and he has a bunny. And this is how it should be.
So, what have you got left to teach me, teacher mine?
My mind wandered while walking through Good Vibrations in the Mission neighborhood of San Francisco today. This is what it came up with. Not a journal entry… but a story.
Daddy and I play fun, fun games when he lets me come over.
Sometimes, I get to play with Daddy’s lollipop and make it big and hard while he’s talking to bigs on the phone. Sometimes we get to play hide the lolly, and I have to guess where Daddy’s gonna put it next. We’ve tickled, wrestled, and played doctor… our little secret, Daddy says.
Sometimes, Daddy tries new games. Like the scavenger hunt.
Daddy and I had play time at night. I was ready, making sure I had my stuffy and binky all ready for play time when my phone went BUZZ BUZZ
Daddy: Put down your little stuffy for a minute and go check outside, poppet.
I giggled and raced to the door, dropping my stuffy along the way. Sometimes, Daddy was magic. He knew the things.
A small brown box sat outside of my door. I took a photo and sent it along before bringing the box inside.
Good girl. Now look inside and let Daddy know what you find.
I squeed loudly and opened the box. What could it be? Candy? A new stuffy? Chocolate, which is soooo much better than just candy?
Inside were three little pink bags with numbers on them. 1, 2, 3. My phone lit up.
Open number 1, princess.
Inside was a pair of tiny, tiny panties that didn’t cover anything. I giggled. They were pretty, and soft, and see through.
Put them on for me, princess. Daddy likes pretty little panties over your pretty, pink princess parts. Open number 2 for me.
Inside the little pink bag was a tiny buzz buzz, one so tiny it could slip inside me and stay. I stared at it, already getting squirmy just looking at it.
That goes inside your princess parts, poppet. Can you slip it inside for me? I bet you’re nice and wet for Daddy already.
I sat down and pulled the tiny bit of pink aside, taking the buzz buzz into my other hand and slowly, slowly slipped it inside me. I was all wet already, think about Daddy’s fingers and lollipop instead of a silly buzz buzz.
Now number three.
Number three was a card with an address on it. After the first two I pouted, surprised and disappointed.
We’re playing a new game, sweetie. I want you to go to where the card says. Take a photo and send it to me when you get there. Can you do that for me? Be my good girl?
The address had big person toys inside, like buzz buzzes and dress up clothes for bigs. Daddy had taken me here before, one time when we were playing dress up and he said I could be a big girl for the night.
Just as I walked through the door the buzz buzz between my legs turned on. I squeaked, confused, and pressed my legs together as the cute pink panties got all wet.
Don’t get too distracted, poppet. I need you to find something for Daddy. Go all the way in the back and find me something big, and silver, and pink.
The buzz buzz was still on. I moved to the back of the store soooooo slowly, trying not to look at all the bigs. They didn’t know about the buzz buzz. It was our little secret.
The back of the store had more fancy dress up things, things that went in instead of on. I liked things that went in. I ran over the the row of shiny silver buttplugs that sat in rows, the stainless steel shining in the light from the store windows. This had to be the silver, but what..
Bunny! BUNNY BUNNY BUNNY!
There right in front was a fluffy pink bunny tail. I squealed in delight and picked it up, forgetting for just a minute about the buzz buzz while I sent a photo to Daddy.
I didn’t forget long. Suddenly the buzz buzz was BUZZING so much I let out a moan in the store.
Cum for Daddy.
I did, there in the corner of the store, wet trickling down my leg as I tried to keep standing and not have too many people look at me. I loved when Daddy told me what to do.
Good girl. Now on to the next place.
I whined as the buzzing lessened. I wanted to see Daddy NOW! Especially with the buzz, buzz, buzz making me all squirmy.
The next stop was a clothes store with all the things littles like me like. Little skirts, bows, pretty socks and shoes. My phone went buzz buzz while the buzz buzz inside woke back up again.
Go find a pretty outfit for Daddy, princess. Try it on and send Daddy a photo.
BUZZ BUZZ BUZZZ
I ran into the store, picking out a tiny black skirt, pretty pink top and pretty white knee socks. Giggling inside the changing room, I sent more photos to Daddy.
You are such a good girl for me, kitten. Now I need you to do something very special for Daddy. Can you do that for me?
Of course, Daddy.
Daddy doesn’t want anything underneath your pretty new outfit. I want you to take your pretty new panties off. Let Daddy see.
I gulped inside the dressing room. How was the buzz buzz going to stay in?
The pretty pink panties were all wet when I took them off. I spread my legs for Daddy, showing him they were all gone while the buzz buzz kept buzzing.
Cum for Daddy.
I didn’t change back into my clothes. Daddy said that was okay, since the skirt was all wet now.
Last stop, poppet. Daddy’s inside waiting for you with nommy food. Just make sure that your little buzz buzz doesn’t fall out, okay? Otherwise you don’t get the rest of your surprised.
I moaned out loud, trying to walk quickly yet carefully to the nommy food. The whole time the buzz, buzz, buzz kept buzzing.
I sent Daddy a photo of the nommy restaurant as I walked inside, looking around for him.
Buzz buzz went my phone.
Not so fast, kitten. You’re all wet. Go to the bathroom and clean up.
Groaning, I scurried to the bathroom as fast as the slippery buzz buzz would let met. Buzz buzz went my phone as I tried to clean up some of the wet running down my bare legs.
You’re forgetting something, poppet. Your outfit isn’t done. What’s missing?
The bunny tail. I gulped.
Be a good little bunny and put your tail in for Daddy. It will keep your buzz buzz nice and in place. I’m sure your princess parts are so slippery and wet by now. The buzz buzz needs help staying in place. Just remember, it can’t fall out princess
The silver plug at the end was soooo big. There in the bathroom stall, skirt hiked up and legs spread, I slowly began to ease the plug, but by bit, into my naughty back door. I moaned quietly, aware of the women in stalls on either side of me, working the plug in and out, in and out, until it worked itself in with a POP.
Daddy was MUCH bigger. Still. With the buzz buzz and the tail my little princess parts felt so tight. The wet got even worse as the buzzing started again..
Time for dinner, poppet.
I got three steps out of the bathroom when I felt a hand on the back of my neck. I squeaked, wanting to turn around and hug him but he squeezed, silencing me.
“This way, little love.” He started steering, using his hand on my neck to guide me to a table. Just as I reached the chair I felt the whiskers from his beard by my ear.
“Come for Daddy, my dirty little bunny girl.”
I let out a chirp, my legs slamming together as I sunk into the chair that Daddy pulled out. He laughed and kissed the top of my head.
“Good girl.” He pulled out his phone as he sat down. The buzz buzz buzz between my legs got worse. Between that and the tail I couldn’t sit still. I squirmed around on my seat, imagining the wet spot I was leaving.
Daddy ate SO SLOWLY. Any time I would let out whimper or wine he would hit his phone and the buzzing would get worse. “Patience, poppet.”
Finally, finally we ate all the noms. Daddy took my hand and walked me to the car, taking his time while I wiggled, the tail and buzz buzz still inside.
“Did you like our little game today, kitten?”
“Yes, Daddy.” I tried to find a comfy spot on the seat.
“Good girl. You know what you get?” He reached into the glove compartment and handed me a small container of chocolate sauce.
“You did so well on our scavenger hunt, princess, that I thought we could try two new games today. When we get home I thought we would see if chocolate tasted different on lollipops.”
I squirmed, all wet and drippy from my pretty tail and the buzz buzz and now there was chocolate.
“Does that mean I get to play find the lolly, Daddy? I’m good at finding things!”
“Yes you are, princess.” Daddy smiled.
I do so love when Daddy and I play games.
Aaaand the end. I do hope I managed to entertain all of you 😉
I’ve talked about new relationship energy before. The honeymoon period when you’re obsessed with that new person. It comes in varying degrees, at least it has for me. I’ve had relationships like James where there never really was NRE.. we had been building for too long and life was too difficult around us. We just.. were. Are. This constant feeling old old married couple. We were just old married couple with za za zoo and now we’re old currently separated married couple dealing with bed death and deciding what’s next.. but I digress. We were never really new and shiny. Grey and I had the new and shiny period, but he pops in and out so inconsistently just because of life. We’re good when we’re together, we just aren’t together that much. Chris and I just always had an ease, which has tweaked over time into a comfortable knowing of one another. But it was never that obsession. There were smiles. New possibility giggles.
That’s why I didn’t expect Ryan. Then again I didn’t expect any of them, James included.
Ryan and I aren’t new. We’ve been playing on and off since the late summer of last year and were friends long before that. There is a comfort in our conversations, an ease in how our bodies respond to one another. And my meta from him is an absolute joy and continues to push me to “be a full partner” with him.
You’re allowed to love him, she says. You’re allowed to ask for his time. To want to spend time with him. You are allowed to have part of him.
And I do. All the things. I do. And it’s startling and scary and my brain just won’t fucking stop.
It’s the first time since James that I’ve felt this way, where I just can’t stop thinking about someone. I want to talk to them. Text them. Spend time with them. My mind drifts to fantasies involving them.. and then I want to kick myself. To scream at my brain to pick a new damn subject already.
There’s no logical reasoning for it. I get plenty of Ryan’s time. I see him every week at BaGG and I usually see him one other time a week as well. He is easy to talk to and does so frequently. He doesn’t use silence as a weapon as others have in the past. He seems to almost.. study me at times. Learning my reactions to things, foods, games, and as things are a success folding them in to our dynamic.
Our dynamic may be why my brain is tweaking as it is.
I have a Daddy. For the first time. Ever. I’m comfortable giving someone that label. I even asked him.
Well. I asked my meta first. Then I asked him.
The little pokes and prods Ryan has done over time opened floodgates. I had no idea until I just… let go just how deep my little side went, and just how wounded a little girl she was. Diving deep into the side of me that is little means risking another’s rejection while dealing with all the rejections from the past. It’s. A lot.
I get stuck sometimes. When I’m with Ryan. We will be having a play date and something will slip me into DEEP little space and it was as if I was in two places at once. There was outside me, little me responding to Daddy while he fucked me up the ass (even though this was before he was my Daddy) and inside me that seemed to be observing. It saw how deep I was and figured out that I would be deep for a while. It was a wave I had to ride. And I was comfortable to do so because I was with Ryan. The trust I have in him… scares me. Trusting someone new. It’s been a while. And yet I do. I have no hesitations trusting him when I go deep into little space, because honestly he’s a DAMN good Daddy.
All good things, right?
So why the brain squirrels?
Tonight could have been catastrophic. I went to a party I’m not comfortable going to to see a friend that stood me up. I watched James play with another and found out he’s getting a ride from someone I don’t fully trust. Meltdown potential: Epic.
Instead I enjoyed watching James’s scene and actually want to talk about it a bit later. I felt relief that I didn’t have to worry about being half dead at work tomorrow from driving James. I’m driving him next week, so I get my time with him.
And I kept fucking thinking about Daddy.
I was watching James spank his play partner and kept thinking about big hands. On me. Warming my ass. Around my throat as he fucks me. Digging into my hips. Pinning me down.
You see where this is going.
We aren’t new. We aren’t shiny. So. Why is it so damn intense?!
I have one of the songs from Beauty and the Beast stuck in my head, or rather a moment. When the mob is trying to break into the castle with the battering ram and keeps chanting KILL THE BEAST ram. KILL THE BEAST. ram.
Kill the beast that is this nre. I don’t know if my emotions can keep this up. How can so much good cause such an odd aching pain? And again, IT MAKES NO SENSE. I see him FREQUENTLY.
Why do I want more?
And the even scarier question.
Does he understand what I’m feeling? Can he relate? Is he just as startled.
This wasn’t supposed to happen.
It just did.
The big ones always do.
She wanted to own him, for him to want to own her, but he tread lightly around her. He didn’t want to mark her. She wanted to be branded; a red, raw wound.”
-The Piano Teacher
‘In an Open Relationship since May, 20, 2015’
“WHAT THE FLYING FUCK.”
It was the cherry on top of an overly-saturated emotional cake today, full of feels I am still processing. I agreed today to walk into a situation that will end up likely breaking a large part of me and force me out of my community for a while. It will be the catalyst to something that I have been chewing on for a while. Facebook just took the time to remind me that even when I think the ghosts are gone.. sometimes I miss a spot.
The status wasn’t linked to James. That has long since been gone..but it was there. Our anniversary staring at me. Mocking me, as the loose end that said ‘you haven’t walked away yet’ while his details say single. I can’t do that. I’m not single. I have partners, though no primary. I can’t draw that clean line like he can..but has it ever been clean?
We’re getting James a car. The wheels are in motion, no pun intended. It’s what I sat down to figure out today. Will it be possible. Can it be done? Yes.
This passed weekend I watched him break. Again. I saw him on Friday at a play party and barely recognized the stubborn man I know and love. I saw… a broken, exhausted shell of a man that is so far beyond the reach of those who love him. I was afraid. Unsurprised, and afraid. I asked if he wanted a ride home, and of course he said no. He can get himself home. I wasn’t surprised when he posted a status the next day saying that he was going into full hibernation mode and would be back in a few days. He needed it. I knew that, watching as an outsider looking in that knew way too much about him. I don’t have a right to know anymore, but I do. I know his body ticks. I know the look he gets when he’s hit a wall.
I can’t watch it anymore.
There’s a selfish element. I realize that I can get certain gears rolling for him, connect certain people together, that others can’t. It’s why I’ve been pulled in. I also realize that in doing this, my usefulness to him will be removed. I’m his ride. Removing that factor severs our necessity in one another. It removes a huge way in which I passively serve him and reduces our interactions purely to choice.
I’m not sure what either of us can choose. Will choose. But I would rather give up the choice to be around him than watch him kill himself. I… can’t. I love the asshole. To actually be permitted to pull my resources and do some good with them for him… It’s one last hurrah. The last act of real service I can give him before I am completely rung dry. Before I am used up emotionally and break myself.
After the meeting today I came home and let myself trip back down memory lane, digging into the Dark Odyssey photo albums. I let myself look at the old shots he’s taken of me, vs the ones he takes now. I let myself register the disconnect and distance. I found the Facebook slip and while it stung on top of everything else I feel relieved to have remedied the error. I know I’m going to put way too much into this, both time and energy… and then I will finally rest. I will walk away, explain why, and see what happens next. If he comes after me I will honestly be shocked. If he notices what I’ve done I’ll be doubly shocked. I don’t expect anything in return for all this. And I know I’m being way too vague in this entry, but I can’t talk about details.
I have to do this. One last time.
And then… I will probably disappear for a while.
I don’t have a choice. I won’t disappear from here. I’ll still have my partners… but James and I are so tightly entangled. I fear after he gets his wheels..even before, now.. that entanglement will become a strangle hold. If it hasn’t already. I will suffocate under the weight of our connection, unable to move forward and forbidden to go back. Whether I go or stay, it will break me..it’s just the damage that must be calculated. The recovery time. The risk and reward.
I will step back from BaGG. From the Citadel parties I love.. I know the ones he works. The ones he doesn’t. I won’t cut myself off completely from the community but…
If I am useless and unwanted, I need to hear that. If I am wanted and needed, I need to hear that. And I don’t know if I ever will.
So now I lay sleepless on my couch with a snoring dog and a cat desperately trying to flatten my chest, attempting to see which end is up.