Tag Archives: dynamic

Kept

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“OH! How cute. A lock on your necklace. That’s an adorable idea. I like the look.”

I hadn’t even thought the lock was visible. I smiled and reached for it, a habit that I’ve started developing since I got back from North Carolina at the end of the month. It’s just a luggage lock for right now, nothing fancy. Durable. Enough to last me until April when Ace will be in town for job interviews. But it’s a little lock with a lot of meaning.

James is the only man to own me, really own me, and there’s a part of me still that is very much his. He knows this. I know this. And so do my partners and friends. It’s.. kinda obvious. As much as there are moments when I miss high protocol I don’t feel a need to be owned by another. Being called ‘mine’ is.. lovely and goes straight to my loins whenever it’s growled in my ear. But the thing is, it is growled in my ear again. Just in a different way. 

Ace and I have known each other for a LONG TIME, at least long for us being humans in our late twenties and early thirties. I was a damn virgin when he and I started speaking, so kink was far off on the horizon of innocent little high school me. Because of that, the kink between he and I is so different than other partners where the relationships were established around kink. I stopped searching for vanilla partners a long time ago. If you seek me out and you aren’t at least french vanilla or have a cinnamon twist hiding somewhere I’m fairly certain I’ll eat you for supper at this point… So, in establishing new dynamics kink is often at the forefront.

With a dynamic like Ace and I, the kink ends up secondary to the actual partnership. It’s partially because he and I have so much history, and partially because of the fluidity in which we switch. In the span of one scene we’ve played the ‘who’s on top’ game countless times, and it’s FANTASTIC, but makes it almost impossible to continually call him ‘Sir’ with a straight face. 

Our kink was also established long after other dynamics were in place. Chris, who I’ve called my Sir since the beginning, and I have been playing for three and a half years at this point. I am purely submissive to him. Aeonyse, Ace’s other partner that will be joining us in the Bay come June, is purely submissive to Ace and has always called him Sir (..this sometimes makes me giggle). All this has led to Ace and I having to look at our dynamic, or needs, and see what terms and connections actually work for he and I. 

What we came up with was that he is my Keeper. This has turned into a HUGE point of reassurance with the whole Ryan clusterfuck (still unresolved. We haven’t seen each other since 2018. It’s March. Sigh) and so many other changes coming up. The move. Job transition to school. New career path. Wedding. Babies. EEEEEEPPPPPPPP.

Ace as my Keeper and the phrasing he uses around that has also silenced many brain squirrels from eons past, during a time when there was no chance I would ever come first in Ace’s world. He and I have had many ‘near relationships’ over the years, where there were feels and passion and desire all there, aaaand also a wife. And distance. And, life. Many times over the years we got very close and then it would stop. We would have to go back to being platonic, or he would sneak text messages after being told for the twentieth time that he was not allowed to contact me. Sometimes he would listen to that order for a couple of months and there would be no contact at all. I never expected him to stay. I never expected that in the end he would actually choose me. 

I have an amazing meta and friend that is also a life and relationship coach. She taught me about her system of ‘things’, these key phrases that she sometimes needs to hear from her partners that are the perfect reassurances for her brain squirrels. She says the ones that they need in return. Both Ace and I lose words when we are in bad head spaces, and having our own ‘things’ has helped pull me back on more than one occasion when all we’ve had were words we could say over the phone. Mine are fairly simple. 

I choose you.
I’m going to K/keep you.
I love you.
I’m not going anywhere.
We’ve got this.

Being Kept is safety, not ownership. There is no high protocol, though there are times when I kneel at his feet and call him Sir. There are times when he kneels and calls me Ma’am. It is safety. It’s.. the odd magick that Ace and I possess, that’s been there from the beginning. 

The first time I met Ace face to face I remember the shock of the ‘zing’ of connection, and the feeling of home that I felt in being around him. I don’t co-sleep easily with folks and typically choose my bed as my sanctuary, and it was a shock to sleep comfortably and through the night not only with him, but with him wrapped around me and holding me. When I close my eyes and hold on to the lock, I get that feeling. That peace of the warmth of being beside him, the calm of hearing his heart beat and steady breathing as he sleeps. The melty feeling when your body just fits perfectly locked with someone else’s and you wonder how on earth that magick can happen. 

The last night of a six day long visit in February Ace and I went in search of my lock. I’ve had a ‘mark’ from him around my neck for many months now, and it doesn’t come off. But it’s had a clasp. It could come off. And I realized over time that I did not want it to. I wanted that reminder that someone’s got me. Someone is there to catch me when I fall. He’s human. There are times when he will be overwhelmed and when our brain squirrels won’t play well together, and I know that. But he’s also proved that he can communicate that when necessary and will still do what he can to take care of me when I am not okay. Ace has stepped up and proven time an time again that I am indeed his. That he is fully choosing me, not hiding me in the shadows anymore. That he wants an actual life with me. I wanted an anchor of that reminder, something physical, for when it’s hard to remember and we can’t be physically together. And so, we decided that my mark should lock. 

It’s a little luggage lock for now. Nothing fancy. Solid. Reassuring. I still got on my knees in front of him when he pulled it out. He slipped the clasp off my mark as I bent my head. “Are you sure about this?” My head went up at his voice. “Because I’m sure. I want you to be.” 

I am. The response was confident. The lock clicked. He grinned and put the key in the box he keeps his engagement ring in, the one I gave him. I melted.

I was going home with a lock around my neck. The key would be 3000 miles away. And I honestly felt perfectly safe. Held. Kept. I had a home. One that would build into a household, a polyfam. A life 

There are pieces missing in my overall life, but I am so blessed. I am Kept. I am cherished. I am loved. I am his.

And as always, dear reader. I am yours, with so much more to come.

-Rene

 

 

Smol Problems


I’ve been struggling with the concept of “just”, in regards to Ryan and the little aspect of myself.

Let me try to explain.
There are many bottom/little letter roles that I am well-versed in. The reality has slowly been sinking in over the last year that I would be considered a ‘seasoned’ s-type (submissive type) in the local community. This..is somewhat of a rarity. Even in poly circles, s-types get claimed. They have a partner that takes the majority of their time, collars them, marks them, and pulls them back from the public scene.
When I wasn’t in service to anyone, when I was no-ones partner, I was in service to my community. I threw myself into parties and classes, conventions and events, and tried my best to be of help in the ways I knew. Eventually I was claimed by someone who was even more involved in the public community than I was and part of serving him was serving my community even MORE. More parties, more organizing, and in time more networking. When the collar came off I had a choice; I could either return from the shadows whence I came or figure out how to navigate the new dynamic between he and I and keep up the pace of parties that I was helping with.
It was likely not the healthiest of choices mentally, especially in the beginning, but I chose the latter. My submissive side is well honed. My slave exists, and can come out for the right partner. I excel in high protocol and can brat with the best of them if the mood is right. I have even discovered that I can switch.
But my little…my little girl side is relatively new, and in many ways still not fully accepted.
I fought being a little for the longest time because of how I look. Cherub face. Short stature. Squishy, and usually with something chibi or stuffie on hand.. It’s how I’ve always been. I didn’t know it was a fetish. It was Smith who flushed it out first, so long ago now, and then Ryan that allowed the little in me to truly flourish and explore in a safe, loving environment.
I have no qualms littling in Ryan’s apartment, or when I am with him at the Citadel or sometimes BaGG. It’s lower-key in the public settings typically, but it’s there, and it’s a HUGE part of our dynamic. But there is a stigma to littling that isn’t often associated to other s-types. Because of the age regression it’s harder to keep the play between just you and your partner in a public setting. Others will notice, and then it can become a consent issue.
‘Daddy’ can be a triggering term to some. I’ve talked about that before. It can be triggering for some to see a DDlg dynamic, even if it’s a healthy one, because of past traumas. It can make others uncomfortable to see age regression, especially in a kink that stresses adult 18+ or 21+ only.
This past weekend was the first time in a while that I have felt shame associated with my little side. I had brought on the camping trip two stuffies that Ryan had given me over the last couple months. They are my absolute favorites, and sleep in bed with me every night whether I’m feeling little or not. I hadn’t plan on littling or regressing at all over the course of the weekend; it was the first time I’ve spent extended periods of time around my meta, and we were not in a kink setting necessarily. Both factors made something vulnerable like age regression not safe… but I am who I am.
I had brought the stuffies for my own personal comfort. For me. For the person that’s loved stuffies for her entire life. And yet the moment my meta came into the tent I tucked them both back in my backpack where they stayed for the rest of the weekend. Even though I was just..me.. 26, full grown woman who had had a long work day the day before, was in an unfamilar place, and wanted something soft and squishy to cuddle with.
There were the brief moments of jealousy during the camping trip, as are bound to happen at times. I am poly, but I am also human. One of those moments happened after the ritual on Saturday evening. Ryan, my meta, and I were curled up outside by a bonfire.  For a while Ryan stood between us with an arm on each of us, and it was this lovely moment of poly bliss, and then he shifted away from me on to my meta’s other side, crouching by the fire to warm his hands.
She turned to him and cupped his face, looking into his eyes. It was…beautiful, intimate, touching, and there was a sea of love between the two of them. I felt so much compersion watching that moment for the beat or two I did (before looking away because..well, it was their moment!), but I also felt a pang of jealousy, because he and I haven’t really had a ‘grown up’ intimate moment like that.
Have there been intimate moments of love and squish and feels? ABSOLUTELY. FUCK YES. NOTE THE CAPS FOR EMPHASIS YES. But..they’ve all happened when I was Daddy’s little girl. When a part of me had regressed and I was smol and curled up in Daddy’s arms, or at his feet, or curled up in the nook. I had a moment at the campsite where I was at his feet and was able to nuzzle his leg while he pet and snuggled my meta…but it’s a very different type of connection. One that is harder to show in public.
There are two directions my brain goes in with something like this. The first is fear. Fear to want to deepen anything Ryan and I have and let him love the big me as much as the little, worried that he won’t like what he finds. He knows the big me, of course. I don’t little ALL the time.. but I’ve never tried anything overly intimate as my big self. I haven’t done any play with him as a big since our very first date. After that, little play started being discussed and we just..clicked there. I’ve kissed him as a big..but he always boops me or tickles me and I slip and then I’m little.. I don’t have a BIG term to call him. Sir is easier to slip out in public. Daddy.. well, I bit my tongue and talked quietly a lot last weekend, for fear of triggering anyone. I fear wanting big translations of these things and expanding into subby interactions, not just DDlg. I’m not unhappy with our dynamic.. at all. I LOVE our dynamic and that I’m his little girl. I just struggle with having to turn it off or tone it down so much and wish that switching gears in a less stifling way was possible instead. There is a fear of wanting those Big intimate moments..that Ryan will go, ‘but you’re my little girl. Aren’t you happy with that? I don’t think I can give you more.”
The other direction my brain goes in is shame. I am incredibly good at kicking myself, especially when I’m down. I used to be ashamed of the noises I make when I play; high squeaky noises that some people just can’t stand to hear. I’ve gotten sever “Can’t you please be quiet”‘s over the last few year..and to be honest I can’t. I wish I could. James started working on volume control with me before the collar came off..but it was always difficult. The shame is associated with the fact that for the first time I have a fetish that I feel like needs to be hidden more often than not.
I’m not bedroom only. I never have been. My dynamics with my partners are ongoing and I am very much a lifestyle person. I have never hidden my submissive side as far as things like tying shoes for partners, retrieving and disposing of dishes at cafes, fetching things when asked, even sitting at partner’s feet when the facilities permit. But I am also blessed with living in the bubble that I do. In the Bay Area, kink is fairly common. We might get a double take walking through downtown Oakland if someone here’s me call Ryan, ‘Daddy’, but it’s not a huge deal. Leave the bubble and.. it’s a different ball of wax.
Last week, I left the bubble, and ran face first into my dirty little secrets. And I didn’t like that I felt the need to clamp down on all these aspects of myself that I like. I didn’t like that I felt ashamed for wanting to curl up at Ryan’s feet and nuzzle his leg, or for wanting head scritches and pets. I didn’t like that the main way I knew to show someone that I loved and appreciated him was a way that I did not feel comfortable showing in that particular setting.. And if I wasn’t comfortable, then there must be something wrong with it…right?
No. Not true. But that’s where tweaking brain goes. Accepting a kink that can sometimes only be shown behind closed doors, and learning through time what being Daddy’s little girl actually means and encompasses.
There was a night a few months ago where Ryan and I were curled up in bed. It was after BaGG, I was spending the night, and it dawned on me that I could possibly be comfortable wearing a collar for him. It would have to come off and it could not lock..but the idea of him leading me around on a leash was INCREDIBLY appealing.I tried to communicate that and he reminded me that that wasn’t part of our dynamic and not necessarily something he was interested in with me. I got quiet and he nudged my chin and started listing all the things that go in to me being his little girl. I’m a submissive, and a masochist, and a pain slut, and an age player, and a cuddle bug.. I am more than just the ‘submissive’ title.
But where does that comfortably extend to, for both of us? And is there room and space in the dynamic for big me to have a real, intimate, connection with him as well. Would he still beat me as a big? Would he still want me if I called him Sir sometimes?
I suppose I will find out.
Yours, a lil little
-Rene

30 Days Of Submission

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I’ve seen this challenge posted on other blogs similarly themed to my own, most recently with a Dominant’s twist. The vein of this challenge that I have stumbled across is 30 Days of Submission. I acquired the questions off of Tumblr (a wonderful resource for kinky fuckery) from someone who also does not know the origin of the questions, and take no credit for them. However, I will enjoy answering them.

I wanted to create a separate page for this because..well.. 30 Days is a lot. Writing that consistently for that length of time will be difficult… I like a challenge. I promise to still do other writing of the kinky variety, but on my first full day of being 24 (my birthday way yesterday) I figured it would be a fun idea to start something.. different. So, here is the different.

Day 1

Does your submission – either what you practice or what you strive for – have a label? Do you view your submission as Taken in Hand, domestic discipline, top/bottom, dominant/submissive, master/slave, owner/pet, or some other description or combination? If you do not use a label, why?

It depends.

The poly thing adds a whole lovely twist to the whole thing for me… I’m weird about labels when it comes to multiple relationships.. and I tend to over-verify and ask questions about the ‘main relationship’ labels before I throw in any add ons.

As weird as it sounds, the ‘submission’ part of a relationship is easy to define. That part happens naturally for me, and usually for the partner I am with. I have said multiple times that I identify as a submissive.. and it’s the side of a relationship that comes out first with me. I will play with someone to get to know them.. to see if there’s chemistry, if it feels right kneeling in front of him and calling him ‘sir’. If I can picture that ‘sir’ getting capitalized to my Sir. If I feel chemistry, if it feels good, natural, not forced… then I try to flirt.

That tends to be MUCH more forced for me. Socially I can be an awkward turtle, especially when I like someone.. I will play with someone for once before I openly express further interest. I get there eventually though..

I have different facets to my submission. There’s a Little side, a pet side, a masochistic side… they all make up who I am. It’s a matter of which partner I am with at the time that dictates which trait is most prevalent, and how much it is prevalent. My masochistic side is very much alive and well with James.. I want to take pain when he and I play. I expect unexpected dashes of ow and tears when I’m around him… but I collect sadists like M&Ms. Almost all of my friends have some sort of sadistic side.. I’ve played with a very sweet, sadistic friend a number of times and struggled to take the pain he dished out, even though in comparison to James he’s incredibly light-handed, gentle even. It’s all about head space.

I’ve been collared before.. and I love the reassurance of the collar. In my ideal relationship there is a collar at the end of the tunnel.. that ultimate reassurance of belonging to someone, of your place.. It’s a fantastic feeling, but it’s something earned over time and not to be taken lightly. Even with the collar I’m not sure I would call myself a slave.. It’s hard to wrap my mind around that title. I will always go to submissives first.

Outside of the BDSM labels there’s all the lovely relationship labels that come with..well.. relationships. Primary. Boyfriend. Girlfriend. Secondary… I’m weird when it comes to “boyfriend/girlfriend”. That’s my primary, in my mind.. Yes, you can have multiple people that you’re seeing but I’m more likely to reference them as ‘partners’ than boyfriends or girlfriends. My boyfriend is the one that would get the Facebook status if that was his thing, and who gets the big, shiny Fetlife status for all to see. He’s the one that owns me.. The boyfriend term ends up a bridge for me between the kink world and the vanilla world.. It allows me to talk about my Sir to vanilla friends in a way that they can understand.. Doesn’t mean that the relationship isn’t romantic. If someone is my Sir and not just a sir.. there are mushy feels there, at least for me.. But the way I use the term ‘boyfriend’ makes me a little bit touchy about it.

Wow.. that ended up a lot longer and more insightful than I thought it would be XD.

Day one down, 29 to go.

Yours, as always

-Rena