Tag Archives: past

Albatross Loss

I thought I would be staying away longer than I am from this thing… but it’s been an interesting and tough week so far…

I have nothing spicy to talk about. I wish I did. I would rather spicy over sad.

I’ve cut Jason out of my life for the most part… I told him a few days ago that I wasn’t coming down for his graduation. I wasn’t comfortable, and I couldn’t afford it, frankly. I need to get in the swing of things with my new job and finish school this week. He seemed alright with it, as long as I come visit in June once he’s back from his graduation trip to Europe. I said fine. If nothing else I would visit with my older sister when we drove my car out from Jersey. Nice, platonic. Quick.

A couple days after that all of a sudden his relationship status changes on Facebook. He has a girlfriend. His girlfriend is a single mother who he has never met in person, who lives 3000 miles away. They’ve “Skyped a few times and he’s feeling good about it.” I have very little issue with the distance, which may sound odd. However, when he and I started dating we lived 3000 miles away. I was actually going to school right next to where his new ‘girlfriend’ lives. It bothers me that he would call someone his girlfriend when he’s never met her in person, and be so reckless with the relationship when there is a child involved who doesn’t have a father figure.. But it’s not my relationship. It’s not my right to be involved with that, and I let go of those issues as quickly as I could.

What bothers me about their relationship is she know nothing about what happened between Jason and I. For all she knows he hasn’t had sex in eons. Apparently they exchanged Valentines in February. Funny, since I was there for a very consensual visit over Valentines Day weekend and he didn’t mention her once. The messiness of the whole situation, the lies to both of us, this playing two part against the middle thing.. I don’t even know this man. I don’t want to know this man, who seems to be so unraveled compared to the man that I knew and loved two years ago. Ignoring the text messages has been hard… harder than I thought. “I think that you will find you will feel  lot better when you let go of this albatross from around your neck”, Sir said. He’s right, I know he’s right. And I will feel much better once the pain actually stops, and that place that used to be his in my heart stops throbbing. I wanted to reach out to him today, tell him about what happened…

What happened spurred the knowledge and shedding of albatross number two. I got a text message from D, whom I haven’t talked to in about six weeks. A classmate of ours from high school had suddenly passed away, and it hit me harder than I thought. She barely knew him. They met up in high school and he was just a constant fixture at school. I had gone all through elementary school with him and had known him since I was five years old. We weren’t close… but he was part of my home town. A fixture. A homing beacon for how the place was supposed to be. Him being gone at just twenty-three has left me jarred, more so than I thought it would.

I got emotional. I was brave and asked if she and I were okay.

That may have been a mistake. But it also may have been the solution to a decade-old weight I’ve been carrying on my shoulders. She told me “If you really loved yourself, you wouldn’t be in such an unhealthy relationship. You would pursue something normal.” I stared at the text message for a little while. I thought I would be angry, or really upset. Instead, I honestly wondered if she was talking to me or herself.

“I am happy” I responded “for the first time in over two years. I am just starting a job that I love. My work is getting noticed, and I’m starting to take real pride in it. I look in the mirror and I find myself dressing better and holding my shoulders higher, because someone takes pride in me being his, and in knowing me. Someone cares about me, genuinely, and is more open and honest with me than any man I have ever met. Even if he worries that what he tell me may send me running, he tells me. He genuinely wants the best for me. What about that sounds unhealthy to you?”

“The age difference.”

Blink. Blink blink. Really? She watched my entire relationship with Jason. She watched him jerk me around. Saw the ups, saw the downs. Saw when he broke me. I tell her that I am finally happy…and her response is well he’s too old for you? Is that all you can see?

D knows about my kinks. She knows the nature of mine and Sir’s relationship. There are many other flags she could have waved, and she chose to play the age card. I finally asked if she could ever just let my relationship be and be able to be friends regardless? After all..her boyfriend hates me, and I leave hers be. Sir doesn’t even have a problem with her, as far as I know. He doesn’t know her. I could just keep my Cali life in Cali when I saw her at home.

“No. I’m sorry. If you insist on something so unhealthy I’m not comfortable being friends with you.”

I wonder why I never had the courage to say something like that to her. All through high school and my undergrad, with all the issues she’s had in the past… that could have been my way out. I’ve known D for so long though. I thought she was a friendship obligation; someone I had to always take care of because I was the one that had stuck it out through school. I still reached out when everyone else had tucked tail in run.

It’s not just romantic relationships that can turn toxic and abusive. Friendships can as well. D and I have walked that line for a very long time.

It’s not going to be a “FUCK YOU” parting. I explode. D broods. She plays passive aggressive and is very good at head games. Whenever explosive fights happen between us it’s because I start them… and I’m not starting anything this time. I don’t want to fight. I want to be able to be happy, and for the people in my life to be happy for me.

It’s not just my relationship. D hasn’t been happy about my work, my school, my… life. I told her about my new job and she said she wished she could be so lucky, why hadn’t anyone caught her a break, etc…

I just won’t reach out anymore… I won’t answer the texts when Jason tells me about his girlfriend and their Valentines. I won’t answer the Facebook prompts when D tags me. I just..am going to live my life. And enjoy it.

Why did I hold on to this for so long? Why did I allow such unhealthy relationships in my life, and why did it take a loss to see that?

BAH

Purging! Purging of the old to make room for the new. I want an actual life if I’m staying out here in San Francisco for another year. I want friends. Actual friends. Not just people I live with or go to school with. I want to go out at night and dance and have fun and not have to be the old lady babysitting with all the damaged strays.

I want to be happy. And I’m getting there. Even if there’s some pain along the way I’m getting there. Bye bye albatrosses. Go hang off someone else.

Right now..back to the hell that is the last two days of classes. I have school shit to do. Before work. Which is before more school shit. Which is before more work…

You see the pattern.

Off I go! A little lighter, if a bit more fatigued

-Rena

Past and Present

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“Please, Rena? Please!”
Jase, you’re being pathetic.”
“But please, you promised you would be there! I need you there!” 

Jason has never begged me for anything, ever. I’ve begged him for plenty over the past couple of years; more love, more affection and attention, being a higher priority in his life. Not being forgotten. Those sort of things. Never once has he begged me for anything, until now. 

Perhaps I’m being a hard ass. After all, there was a time not so long ago when he was my knight in dented armor and could do no wrong. I would fly to the moon and back for him, bend backwards, do somersaults, anything to make him look twice at me and remember who really cared about him. In return, he showed me affection. He dangled just enough of it in front of me that I would bite and stay on the line as his safety net. And somehow, I never noticed until after he cut the line. I was too happy for any attention he would give me. 

The garter belt had gotten me in a bit of trouble at the airport. I had both it and the thigh-highs it attached to hidden underneath the comfy pair of sweatpants I was wearing on the plane, which had earned me an extra pat down from the TSA agent at the edge of the security check point. The look of surprise on her face when she realized what I had on was priceless. 

I had gone all out for this trip, because it was Valentine’s Day. Normally I gave Jason straight hair, and perhaps a bit of makeup and some nice lingerie that he barely noticed before ordering it off me. This trip, however, I kicked it up a notch. The moment I got off the plane I had stripped out of my comfy sweat pants and changed from my sandals to my black “fuck me” heels (I left the pink ones with the spikes at home) and a skin tight, form-fitting dress that Jason had nicknamed my “witch dress”. It was long sleeved, cut low enough to show off my DD’s, and clung especially well around my ass, while just being long enough to cover the tops of the stockings. The dress had prints of the moon on it, and around that all the astrological signs. It was not something I wore out in public normally, unless I was going to a club or on a date I knew would end well. This wasn’t exactly a date, but I knew where the night would end. 

Jason walked into the airport with his father, which made me chuckle. I got a very short “very nice” from him when he hugged me, and then he didn’t say a single word to me until we got back to his place. His father and I chatted. I mentioned the art opening I had been to earlier int he evening, the commission I had picked up because of it… It had been a good night. 

By the time we got inside the rest of the house was quiet. Jason made sure all the doors were shut and my bags were inside before turning his attention back to me. “Strip.” Whelp, so much for the dress. I began tugging it over my head and hadn’t even gotten the thing entirely off before I heard him whistle. He’d seen the garter belt, the stockings, and the black lace panties that I had picked out especially for him. He loved black lace. “Very, very nice, Rena. I appreciate the show.” 

“What’s changed? You had said you were coming to my graduation for months.”
“Uh huh. And each time I said it, you said it wasn’t a big deal if I didn’t go. That we would just see each other over the summer when you got back from France-“
“After I get back from going to Giverny, for you, and taking pictures, for you.”

Oh yes, because he was going to get so much out of going to Claude Monet’s garden for me. He’s not even all that interested in art, and calls Monet’s haystacks cupcakes along with his father. 

“And I appreciate that, Jason, but that doesn’t change the fact that I’m not comfortable coming down and staying with you after what happened.” 

Silence. 

“Is it because of him?” 

We were catching up. I hadn’t seen him since Thanksgiving, and I had both birthday and Christmas gifts for him. I lounged across his chair in nothing but my underthings, watching as his boner got more and more prominent as time went by. Each gift he thanked me for, eventually getting up and hugging me in thanks for them. 

The hug didn’t remain just a hug, of course, Eventually the hands wandered down to grab my ass and his lips took possession of mine. They moved south, grazing over my neck all too quickly before focusing on my chest. “Take this off” he said, even as his mouth teased me through my bra. The black lace was gone in seconds. As I moved to relax against the chair he instead grabbed me and pulled me to my feet. Before I could process what he was doing he dropped to his knees in front of me and once again turned his attention to my chest. Godde help me, but he was good with his tongue, and his teeth. I let out a moan and ran my fingers through his hair as he all but worshipped my breasts, instinctively parting my legs in anticipation for what was next. 

No, it’s not because of him. It’s because of you. Because you crossed a line and I’m honestly not sure that you won’t do it again.”
“Oh come on! I apologized! I said I was sorry! I don’t even remember doing it, Rena! I was fucking plastered. You can’t hold it against me forever.”
“Not forever, Jase, but I’m not letting you off scott free either. I told you to stop, and you didn’t. You hurt me. You raped me, and it until me saying I wouldn’t go to your fucking graduation for you to apologize for it.”
“I said I was sorry!” I could hear his heavy breathing. He was trying to collect himself. 
“Does he have a problem with me now?”
“What do you think?” 

“Wake up.” 

The order was followed up by fingers slipping inside of me. I had been dead asleep, curled up next to Jason, after he had thoroughly exhausted me. We hadn’t fucked, but he had fingered me to the point where I had cum so many times I had lost count. My body was shaking by the time he guided me to bed. I had thought that would be that for the evening. 

Apparently not. Apparently earlier had been foreplay. 

He worked me into a tizzy, pulling me out of the sleep-filled fog I had been in and taking me right to the edge of orgasm before he pulled away. His mouth captured mine for the briefest of moments, making sure I was awake and responding, before he pulled away. 

“On all fours, on the rug. Now.” 

Quickly, I scrambled out of bed and got into the position he asked, my cheek touching the carpet, my ass in the air. Waiting.

I think I have no problems with him, and that he should feel the same.” 
“That’s bull crap, and you know it.” 
“No, no I don’t. I don’t understand what his issue with me is. He’s not even your fucking boyfriend. He has a girlfriend. What are you, his mistress?”
“No. I’m not. I’m his submissive, and he owns me. My body belongs to him, and you, with your sticky fingers, tried to take what was his. I don’t belong to you anymore. You know that, and you still pushed. How would you feel if Tori fucked her ex?” 
“You leave her out of this!” 
“I’ll leave her out of this if you stop bringing him into this. He has a problem with you because he’s protective of me. He is the one that held me when I cried after telling him what happened. He calmed me down when I felt like I was losing my mind. You made it fucking worse.” 
“… You cried?” 

The normal fucking lasted all of five minutes before I felt the cool trickle of lube down my ass and let out a moan. 

“That’s right, Rena. I’m going to take you in every hole tonight.” I had sucked him off earlier in the evening as a thank you, even though I didn’t care for the taste of him. It pleased him, and that was all I cared about. 

A hand came down on my ass with a resounding “smack”, which only aroused me further. 

God, such a gorgeous ass. And It’s all mine.” 

Yes, I cried. I was freaked, Jase. You’ve never NOT stopped when I said no. This time.. you went too damn fucking far. It didn’t feel good. It HURT. Hell, you pulled his shirt off of me and nearly ripped it doing so. You know why I was wearing that?” 

Silence. 

“So you wouldn’t be tempted to cross the line again. So you wouldn’t hurt me, or Tori.”

More silence. 

“Do you not want me anymore, Rena?” 

It hurt in such a good way, it always did, and he was the only one who had dared to enjoy taking me that way. 

Afterwards, I got a kiss before I went to go clean up. I was sated. In one night I had been worshipped and taken with a vigor he hadn’t shown in almost a year. Happy Valentine’s Day indeed. 

I crawled back into bed where Jase was already laying and flopped over him, the two of us forced to overlap on his twin-sized mattress. 

Goodnight, Jase” I closed my eyes. 
“Rena?” 

Uh oh. My eye opened again. 

Yeah?” 
“Don’t get used to this.” 

I sighed. I was tired, and I was late to class, and dreading telling Sir about this conversation later.  

“I want my friend back.” 
“You never lost me, Rena, but I feel like I’m losing you.” 
“That’s because you threw me away. You tossed me aside for a better model..and then when I moved on you were upset about losing your toy.” 

More since. I at this point had become pretty sure that he was sharing the phone with a cricket. 

“You’re not wrong. I’m jealous. I want you back in my bed. I don’t want you in his.”
“But that’s all you want. You want me in your bed. You don’t want my mind, or my heart, and you haven’t told her any of this because you want her heart, and her body when you get the chance. It doesn’t work like that, Jase.” 
“I know.” 
“I have a lot of thinking to do.”
“Please? At least consider still coming? Bring Gabe if you really feel the need to. I just want you here. I need you here. I need my friend.” 
“I’ll think about it, Jase” 

-Rena

John, Barb, Marie, and Me

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Growing up, I would not say that my childhood was normal. Whatever normal is supposed to be. 

A good chunk of my early childhood was spent in a giant, red tinted, wood covered artists loft in Paterson, NJ, where you heard gunshots before you heard fireworks but somehow I always felt safe. My parents and I were there almost every day to see our best friends, John, Barb, and Marie. 

John and my dad go way back. They went to the same minuscule art school in New Jersey together, and were like oil and water to one another. John is chaotic and manic while my dad is organized and neat. John is drawn to the abstract and bright colors of fine art while my dad leans towards the clean lines of commercial. They both have huge egos, and back in the day they hated each other. 

Eventually, the little art school failed, as little art schools unfortunately tend to do. My dad, being an idea man, decided that he was going to start his own art school to at least help the kids who started finish their degrees and get out into the world. He needed a painting professor, and ran into John at an art opening in the city (New York). John was, and still is, the type of man who will buy pant before food, and was there to get the free wine and cheese so that he could eat for the day. 

Now, John can be a rat bastard, a ball-buster, a pain in the ass, and incredibly self centered, but the man can paint. He’s got more talent in his pinky than I have in my entire body, and my dad recognized that and hired him on. 

From that point on, John and dad were inseparable. They are still oil and water, but they’re brothers. They’ve seen each other through the best and the worst of times. 

A combination of both best and worst was when John met Barb..and Marie. 

Barb is a force to be reckoned with. She is one of those women that you look at and you instinctively know to respect her. I used to want to be her when I grew up. Her figure work surpasses any and all that I have seen, and she is the only woman I’ve ever met that can truly handle John. She puts him in his place like no one’s business and still lets him think that he’s the boss of things. It wasn’t always that way though. 

John’s track record with women is honestly deplorable. He was living with Marianne, who was friends with Barb, and then ended up spending more time at the studio together. Two talented artists fell in love, despite other commitments, and well.. Barb and Marianne weren’t very good friends after that. 

For years it was John and Barb (at least according to my dad. I wasn’t around for this bit yet), and then John started working on a new series of paintings that he needed a new model for. 

Marie is a gorgeous girl. She’s bubbly as hell, with a smile that lights up her face and porcelain skin, and is about twenty years younger than John and Barb. She’s got CURVES even though she has a slim build, and is one of the most loving creatures I have ever met in my entire life. She is an artist in her own right, but less fine art and more craft, and she became John’s muse. 

And then more. 

Now, John is nothing but exceedingly loyal to those he truly loves, and he truly loved Barb, so rather than cheat, he came to her and said that he had fallen in love with Marie (not that hard to do), but that he didn’t want to lose her. 

John is not the smartest man in the world at times.. he decided to tell Barb this in their kitchen, where she then preceded to throw knives, pots, pans, and a rolling pin at him. I forget if anything actually hit him or not, but needless to say she wasn’t happy. She kicked his ass out for a while. 

And then called him, and said that she would rather share him than lose him. And so, she met Marie. 

Turns out, guess what? There was a spark. Barb and Marie are both bisexual. It took some time to figure out the kinks, naturally, but eventually John, Barb, and Marie were a unit. Each of the girls had their relationship with John and eventually developed a relationship with each other. 

This is what I grew up around, going to their loft whenever possible as a child. By the time I was born John, Barb, and Marie being together was normal, and established. Marie was like a big sister to me, and together we would work on craft projects together while John and my dad smoked pipes and my mom and Barb cooked in the kitchen. They got me in all sorts of trouble as a kid, like giving me my first nightie at four, which my dad nearly killed John for, but which I kept and played dress up in for years to come. They were never shy about showing each other affection in front of anyone they knew, and were comfortable enough in their relationship not to be afraid to show that they were all together. 

You think this would have been enough to uproot any vanilla rule my mother tried to plant in my head.. nope, not quite. I didn’t think of them as a rule for relationships, just as John, Barb, and Marie. This was how they were, but I didn’t know anyone else in a relationship like that until I got to college. 

I am blessed with very open-minded parents. Sometimes disturbingly so. They met Sir on Tuesday when they were visiting the city and liked him well enough, even though there is obviously an age difference between us. The entire time at dinner I watched my dad, who was watching us, and my mother, who was very well behaved. My mother is never well behaved around any potential suitors. 

Fast forward a few nights and it’s my parents last night in the city. We decide that tapas in the Mission sounds like a good idea for dinner. Tapas means sangria. Sangria means open communication. 

My mother is an extreme lightweight. She got through her first class before going, “So, you’re not his girlfriend I’m guessing. You’re his submissive, right? Does he have a girlfriend?” My mother is vanilla, but she reads Maya Banks books and thinks she knows about BDSM. Well..she knew enough to apparently read mine and Sir’s body language at dinner. 

And so, I told them everything, for the most part. My parents will never, EVER want to know grimy details of my sex life, no matter how open minded they are.  But they were curious about how I’m managing jealousy, amongst other issues, in this new relationship of mine. 

After going through the whole schpele dad looks at me and goes, “So, in essence, you’re Marie.” 

I sat there, blinking at him, for about five minutes. 

When he said that, I was brought back to the last evening Sir and I had to ourselves. He and I had ended up on my back deck, with me kneeling at his feet and my head in his lap. I thought about the last time I had seen Barb and Marie and thought about Marie laying in John’s lap in almost the same position. 

I don’t think the three are in a BDSM relationship, although I would say that John is a top, Barb is a switch, and Marie is definitely the bottom. I always thought of John and Barb as having a mom and dad role and Marie almost fitting in as the child, because of the age difference and because she worships John with the same frequency that Barb puts him in his place. I never thought of it as strange. It was a comfortable dynamic to be around. 

I just never thought that I would be Marie. My dad is right, in that I am. I adore Sir. I look up to him, idolize him, love him. The whole nine yards. I am also a good seventeen years younger than him, and his girlfriend is a good eight years older than I am. 

I’m meeting her tomorrow, something I think that all three of us are a little nervous about, and I admit that I am going in feeling very off balanced. I’m nervous, and intimidated by her the more that I think about it. I don’t know how Sir is going to balance having two sub missives around him at once, or if he will be able to read and handle both of us. I wonder how Marie felt the first time she met Barb, who had the established relationship and past with John, had a place already when she had to worm her way in. 

It is how I feel. I know Sir wants me. I know I am his, and am confident in that..but where is my place when it comes to him and his girlfriend? Sir mentioned giving her more time and making her a higher priority because they had to re-establish the bond between them… I don’t know how that made me feel. I understand, of course. That bond is important. But.. sigh.

I don’t want her to not like me. I think I’m even more nervous about this when there is a chance that I will be staying in the city this coming year. I may not just be this temporary submissive that disappears after a few months… something I’m nervous about talking about in general. Or thinking about. 

I have to go buy the last bits of my uniform for my summer job.. YAY employment. First shift today. If nothing else, I’m safely staying in the city for the summer.

Which means learning how to navigate all this. 

I want this. I really, really want this, but I want to make sure I’m wanted as well… I feel like I understand Marie a lot more now, entering into a situation like this, than I did as a child. I can’t imagine how scary it was meeting Barb for the first time. Especially knowing she caused knives to be thrown at John’s head. At least I’m not that bad.

Right then. off to buy ugly pants and a long sleeve shirt to cover tattoos. 

Yours, as always

-Rena Marie