Tag Archives: poly

Day 11

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Day 11

Do you include service as a part of your expectations of your submission? How do you define service? What does it mean to you? If not, what is it about the concept of service that is not for you?

I consider myself to be a service oriented submissive… Now, what that means to me when I say that can mean something different to another.

To me, that means that when my Sir says “jump”, I already know how high he wants me to be jumping and instead I am asking him how long. If it’s a partner I truly care about, I try to anticipate his needs. I know what he likes from Wicked Grounds on Wednesday nights when we grab a bite before BaGG…but know not to order it unless he asks me to. I know how a play partner takes his coffee at this point and will fix it for him before I bring it to him in the cafe.

I anticipate and learn how best to serve the person I’m with… which for me can mean learning how to make his favorite meal to learning proper deep tissue massage to help with backaches..

I enjoy this. I get pleasure from giving pleasure, even in the simplest of ways. If that means they want me to clean up their place or cook them dinner then I will, but only if that’s what they want.

Cal’s partner and I both share a certain… erm.. opinion of his ex partner. Her and I ended up in a conversation about service submission the other night, and she expressed the irritation in how the ex would come and clean the house, do the laundry, and how her partner didn’t actually like that.. Those domestic duties are what a lot of people associate with service. Okay, yes, that can be part of it..but that’s not the first thing I think of when I identify myself.

Honestly, when I think about service in regards to myself I think about my relationship with pain.. My masochistic side developed because the person I belong to is a sadist. He enjoys digging his nails into my flesh, making me squeak and yip and whimper in the club and cafe and..wherever else he decides to hit me. The first couple times we played in any way I remember thinking “I don’t know if I can do this… I don’t like pain. I can’t take this. This HURTS.”

And then I saw the twinkle in his eyes.. I saw the sadistic smile that lets me know just how much trouble I’m in… The impishness. And I wanted more, not because I craved the sensation but because I craved that reaction from him.

I crave the look of pride he gives me when he’s beaten me to my limit and he has to all but peel me off of the cross because standing is hard… When he pulls me into his arms while I’m still trembling and gives me the feather light kiss on top of my head, and then the gentlest kiss on my lips.. Little, silent thank yous that let me know that I did good, that I made him proud. I love the look of delight on his face when he’s taking photos of me being beaten by another, the voyeur in him enjoying every second of it.

I get pleasure from giving pleasure, and that manifests in multiple ways… That is the best way I can define service for myself.

Yours, a content service subby

-Rena

Poe

The closer it gets to leaving for Boston the more I think about the people that really matter in my life… and the relationships I have with them.

California seems notorious for fair-weather friends. I’m sure there are close relationships somewhere.. I have met a couple Cali people that I know would be there if shit went down. One I know watches, just as I watch, even if we don’t speak so often. The other is slowly becoming an important member of my life.

I haven’t gone to the dungeon to play since I got back from Thanksgiving… and that hasn’t eaten at me. It hasn’t bothered me. I haven’t felt the need to be fawned on or flirted with, and have casual encounters. I enjoy the people I know through the Citadel, but that craving hasn’t been there. I’ve been working, actually working my ass off..and suddenly I have expendable income again. I will be able to truly enjoy myself over the holidays without fear of running out.

The lack of contact, for whatever reason or motivation,  has rubbed several people the wrong way.. I can understand, but in the end there are time when I have to put obligation above a fun night out. I work hard so I can enjoy myself and play later. I know too many people who just get by in the community I swim in; people much older than myself. I grew up just getting by. I have a man that loves me enough to have made sure the bottom didn’t drop out when I was at my worst, but I have watched the strain on his face when I was barely getting by. I don’t want to do that to him, to us, or to myself. I may never be wealthy, but I’m determined to have a roof over my head and food in my fridge, even in San Francisco.

Recently another responsibility has fallen into my lap; one I wasn’t truly expecting. His name is Poe. He is a loving, purring black ball who greets me at the door when I walk in and snuggles with me at night. Kane is insanely allergic.. the one thing that scared me about getting Poe. I hadn’t intended on going to the shelter..but it happened. I visited him three times before adopting him. Before I bought the stuff for him, before I called the shelter asking if he could be mine, I talked to Kane. It’s true, I’m lonely in my apartment without him. I’ve said that several times. But I wouldn’t put a cat above Kane’s health and happiness. I pestered him.. asking for clear confirmation that he was okay with Poe. That if I got the cat things would still be okay with us. We would be okay.

I love that man so much.. He told me straight out that he wanted his Rena happy, and he knew that a kitty would make his Rene very, very happy.. and that little bundle of fur has.

My cat is a cuddle whore. He curls up with me and purrs throughout the night and will plop into my lap the moment that I get home. In the shelter he walked over to me when I was playing with his little roommate, plopped into my lap when I wasn’t looking at him, looked up at me, meowed, and started purring. I was hooked.. He’s settled into my apartment with no problems. The last step with him is meeting Kane, which will hopefully happen today. I pray my boys get along.. I have an odd feeling they will.

I’m so grateful to Poe..that little ball of love has eased the last of my ache. He’s allowed me to lighten up. To not be so tense. The more I lighten and loosen, the more I see Kane do the same. I know he’s been busy and stressed, but more and more of our interactions I see the man that I proudly submit to, not the shadow of himself that I’ve seen. The more I take care of myself the more he does the same…I still don’t know what will happen after the holidays. Neither does he. But I know the road trip will do him good, just as the trip to Boston will do me good… We both know what we want to happen. We just have to wait and see. But I’m hopeful. I’m optimistic.. and I’m actually happy.

And then there’s Smith. Yes, the man continues to have an influence on me and be a pretty active member of my life. We are slowly getting to know one another…but usually end up poking one another daily and trading a text or two back and forth. He was the first to scoff at me not having relationships with the people I play with and just going to play. I still think casual play can be good from time to time…but I’m starting to think Smith has the right idea. I am getting so much more out of the different quality relationships I have, why go give myself to people just to do it? That’s putting a bandaid just a problem for me. Not helping me become the best me that I can be.

I am very blessed. I have three fantastic men in my life, all gifted to me by a very kind universe when I needed them. And all of them share very well when the need is there.

Well.

Almost all of them.

Poe is incredibly possessive of his mama.

Yours with a content, purring cat in her lap =^.^=

-Rena

Happy?

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I’m working on that whole happiness thing…

Today I got this crazy idea. I was driving to job #1 of 2 when I heard on the radio one of those ‘be the blankety-blank caller and win Disney tickets’ things.. Disney tickets? Excitedly, I called, and called, and called..as I drove mind you. I called sixteen times when all you needed to be was caller number 97.

There’s no magic fix button. Relationships are hard. Poly relationships can be even harder. I can’t magically go back to Disney, to that perfect weekend where we just..were. And there were no worries. And he could proudly call me his girlfriend.. I could call him my boyfriend. He could show me off instead of keeping me a secret. We could geek out and listen to Sci Fi audio books on the eight hour drive back.

The first time Smith and I talked at length was the Saturday at Surrender. He sat me down and asked what my happiest memory was. Immediately, my mind went to Disney. To when I was his princess, if only for a weekend.

I’m honestly grateful to Smith, especially lately. Normally when I can’t see Kane I become an extreme introvert. I curl up in a ball and don’t move until absolutely necessary. It hurts too much. Every time I try to recoil or pull away he’s been pulling me back.. in ways I haven’t expected. Smith has a primary partner long distance as well as several partners in his area. I’m… semi long distance; he’s in Long Beach, I’m in San Francisco. I’m starting to think the man has the patience of a saint. He listens..and listens..and LISTENS when I’m missing Kane. He listens to me ramble and tell stories and will say things like “I can’t imagine how he looks at you. He’s so lucky to have you.” And it’s genuine! That’s what shocks me! The man does not have a jealous bone in his body. I’ll call him crying on days when I ache and he’ll listen to my schpele.. and then go, “It will all work out. Of course it will all work out. He LOVES you. You love him.” But it’s not that simple, I protest. “Life isn’t simple” he tells me. “But love is resilient. You don’t take on ownership of someone lightly. From the sound of things you and him were inevitable. It’s not like you two wanted this to happen. It just… did. That can be the best kind of love.”

It’s true..it is. When I curl up in Kane’s arms I breathe better, easier. I wish… I wish I had the ability to ease him like he does me. I am so very worried about him..

The other day, my insecurities were in full force. Nothing is certain right now. Kane has so much on his plate that so much as saying how much I love him stresses him out because it adds obligations to his already full plate.. He has to then take care of me. To make sure he loves me too, etc.. A lot is kept unsaid because of that. I admit, I’ve become guilty of some bad habits lately. Stress eating, comfort eating..yeah.. And I can feel the five pounds I’ve gained. It’s not much, but it’s enough that it’s visible to me.

I was working job #2 and had stopped for a dinner break, thinking nothing of it. I parked, got out, and walked the block to the local kink cafe..and then noticed something very wrong with my collar. A ring that Kane had given me, that normally encircles the band of the collar like a dog tag, was missing. I, as I often do, started crying. I retraced all my steps. I searched the street. I even went so far as to retrace some of my stops from work… nothing. And all I could hear was Kane’s voice in my ear. “Keep this safe for me.” Over. and over. and over. I had failed him, and managed to lose the part of my collar that I love the most.

As I pulled my car into the garage my collar broke off, sliding down my chest and laying in my lap.

I feel naked..unclaimed. Bare. I keep reaching to my neck out of habit to play with the ring and..nothing. I asked Kane what to do.. “That’s up to you” he said.

Smith stepped in halfway through my meltdown. I had left work early and was driving home watching my phone buzz. “You would never hurt him on purpose.” he said. “This was an accident. It wasn’t your fault”

I was careless. It feels like my fault. Every day I wake up, send a morning photo to Kane (the only ritual I’ve never fucked up), and look over at the collar, unsure about how I should proceed. That collar is such a huge sense of security for me. It’s a reminder of who I belong to when I’m afraid…

Afraid of what?

Afraid the man I love will disappear.

I can’t ask him for more..because he just doesn’t have it there to give. He acknowledges this often.. too often. “I’m sorry I can’t be the man you need me to be right now.” He says. Over and over.

I don’t need anything other than to see genuine happiness on his face again.. I haven’t seen him happy in almost two months. Even when I got him for a week after Halloween he was a ball of stress..

I am lucky. I remind myself of that often. I’m slowly digging myself out of financial trouble, starting a new job.. in essence getting my shit together. I have a man that loves me. A family I am extremely close to. A new partner who’s making sure I don’t dissolve into a depressed ball of emo poop. There is no reason to wallow. No reason to be negative.

Part of me feels so incredibly useless because I can’t make the man I serve happy. I can’t fix it. No matter how I serve or what I do there is so much else in his life.. an hour with me is a small miracle to arrange these days.

I forget what nights with him are like.. it’s been so long. I try not to hope when the next night will be. I’ve been clinging to this hope of “Just get through the holidays and it will get better.” Now.. I don’t know..

I’m not going anywhere.. And when he does take me, when he does dominate me.. Godde am I happy. I see a glimmer of the man I’m head over heels for when he dominates me. The weight of the world disappears from both of us, if only for a moment, and we can just be. I can serve, my complete focus on him.. and he can get lost in the dominance. A simple thing like just being held by him for a moment eases all these aches and pains I wasn’t fully aware I had.. Being held by him makes me breathe easier.. When he wraps his hand around my neck, however..that’s when I finally feel relief.

Mr. Smith was originally Mr. Dashing. I changed it in the entry..because the nickname stopped making me happy. When I met Smith, his first reaction to me was to do a double take at my appearance, go “wow” several thousand times, grab my hand, bend at the waist, and kiss it. Who kisses hands like that anymore? And then this dapper gent runs off without giving me his name. GAH. I felt like some strange reversed Cinderella. I thought “Mr. Charming” would be too corny of a nickname and chose “Mr Dashing” instead.

It was a mistake.. It bothered and hurt my Dominant. I could see that every time he brought it up and tried to play it off..and it ended up hurting me when he mentioned he was going to call his secondary “Ms Beautiful.” … After gaining a little weight and feeling like shit for quite some time I didn’t like the idea of someone else being his beautiful girl when I was…what?

BLAH

I fixed it.. I hope. I’ve been fixing a lot of things lately. I’m so fucking tired…

This trip to Boston is so needed. I will be staying with one of my dearest friends from college and seeing three others.. It’s funny. When we met me and two others were single. Now one is in a common law marriage, one is swimming along brilliantly with her boyfriend, one is looking at apartments with her boy, and the one who was originally in the relationship is slowly ending hers after six years.

And me?

My heart is taken. My body is owned. My mind is cared for so that my heart may continue to give as it needs. I have a dominant. I belong to him.

I just want him to come back…

The trip with his dad is coming up in about a week. I’m hoping that will help quite a bit. He told me he wasn’t even bringing a laptop on this trip and I wanted to do a fucking happy dance. …Maybe between my trip to Boston and his trip cross-country we will slowly become happy again.

Please let things get better…please. I miss him so much.. and I desperately want to get back to Disney someday.

I have to sleep. Smith cracked down on my insomnia tonight and did the dom guilt. “Will you try to sleep for me?” FAAAKKKK. There is no saying no to that when you have subby tendencies -_-. Topple that with Kane going “Take care of my Rena.” and you have a Dom guilttrip sandwich. The body therefore must be shut down from time to time to recoup.

Please, Universe, please be kind. Please make life easier for my Dominant. Please make things easier for me in time.. for us. I like us… I miss us… but I will not push for us. Us will come back when it should.. And in the mean while I do what I can to help, which includes keeping myself emotionally healthy… which is partially thanks to Smith for keeping me from being antisocial turtle woman…

Relationships are hard. Poly relationships can be even harder.

Yours exhausted,

Rena

Flogging and Flying

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Once a week or so, I’ve discovered a need to fly.

With Kane, I soar. I reach new points of emotional security, of knowing myself and my place. At this point I wear a day collar proudly, showing that I am happily in service to such an incredible man. A man who pushes me emotionally, who wants me to work artistically as he works. With him is where my heart lies, safe and secure with a man who I know cherishes every ounce of submission I give him. I love him for loving and accepting everything about me.. even the stuffed animals.

Yes, he will spank me. He will tie me up and do wonderfully wicked things to me. He’s started taking a firmer hand to me the more we explore, and has begun to push me in ways I never expected, but as of now he has not used a flogger on me.

He knows that I’ve developed this.. need to play outside of his place or mine. That I thrive walking around the Citadel, all dolled up turning the heads of men as I walk by. I have a need to be strapped to a cross or ordered onto one of the tables and have floggers and paddles taken to my ass, my shoulders my back. I’ve taken to wearing outfits to the Citadel that allow for easy access to my bare ass, because I know that by the end of the evening I will crave seeing it black and blue.

My pain threshold has absolutely gone up since I started playing regularly. There are things that I like better than others, obviously.. I had a discussing with Cal the other day about single tales not exactly being my thing, and Cats pushing me… but a soft deer skin flogger? Mmm…. for the love of Godde please bend me over and turn my ass red.

It’s a cathartic weekly release, to fly. Fridays are my night to play. To go out and get what I need so I can come back, content and able to serve a man I very much love. Play for me very rarely means sex with others lately.. My partners have shifted. In the dungeon I would rather play with the older men in the scene that I”m not truly attracted to, but that know how to handle a flogger better than the attractive young ones who would love to have me over their knee. They push me into Subspace so easily it isn’t even funny. After a week of work, of service, of routine, going out and just being for those few hours… I love it.

I find it amusing how much I’ve enjoyed spanking and flogging, when I was almost never spanked as a child. My parents laid a hand on me..maybe twice in my entire life? And here I am craving what others fear. Jase actually mentioned that he was worried about how much pain I could take. “Just don’t break your ass” he said, before transitioning into a conversation about how he ordered his amazing girlfriend flowers and they’re having a Skype movie date…blah blah blah. I know my limits, and I’m selective about who I do a scene with.

I do have a new little play partner, Tom. He’s older than baby Chris, but not yet thirty, in the same career field as me, an east coaster..and really really good with his fingers. I don’t know where this will take me..but I enjoy his company, and I am exceedingly attracted to him. We’ve discussed going to the next Bent party together and playing.. I admit, I like this idea. I find him exceedingly attractive and would hardly mind being led around the dungeon by him.

I guess this is where I start truly balancing multiple partners, not just casual play partners? Oh, poly… how it makes my head hurt.

Yours discovering ways to fly
~Rena

P.S. There is a movie on Hulu, Inside the 50 Shades. I’m sure most of you know that the book is… well… If you don’t have anything nice to say don’t say anything at all, but the movie goes into people actually in the scene. It’s worth watching, especially I think for Doms. There’s a man on it that talks in detail about learning from the bottom up, which is something Cal has expressed to me along with a few other Doms.. Worth watching.

Musings and Meetings

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I couldn’t resist the adorable kitten doing a summersault… Especially when the little fluff ball was a ginger. I own one, a ginger fluff ball named Jynx who lives up to her name, and I’ve been missing her lately.

Yesterday I met up with Sir, and to be honest I was exhausted. I had stayed up late the evening before frantically applying for more jobs. The secure job I have is attempting to kill me, at least that’s what it feels like. I went to work at 4 pm without knowing when my shift was ending. After asking, I found out I was there until 10:30. Well.. 10:30 was closing, which turned out to be 11:30, and I got through the day with one half hour break and a ten minute break. I have arthritis in both my knees…

This part, I would get used to. What I won’t get used to is stuff like my earrings being stolen out of my purse (I lost my 5 favorite pairs T.T including a pair of gold hoops my parents bought me when I was fourteen), hearing that anything that happens at work is “our problem” not theirs, and the people around me being treated like crap and screamed at for a little thing like not refilling the Fritos basket at the exact right moment when there’s a line of 50 customers and only three cashiers, and one out of the three can’t handle money because it’s their first day of training.

I needed a drink. A strong one. Sadly, at my apartment there is no alcohol to be found. RAWR.

And so, after a night of rawr, I went and applied to fifty million jobs on Craigslist praying for another to bite so I wouldn’t have to go back to the bad  place that steals earrings.. I was up until about 2, knowing I would end up awake at 9 to shower and make myself okay enough looking for Sir at 10.

Stupid, stupid, stupid.

I pushed my body too damn hard, again. It’s this time of year for me. Every night, I push myself to the point of shattering. There’s that edge, that razor thin edge, where brilliant things are made. I live on it for about two weeks. Usually, during this time of year I isolate myself. I go into work mode, and come out right before I drop dead. My parents know enough to pull away during that time of year and let me self destruct, then build myself back. I am NEVER in a relationship this time of year, usually by convenience instead of purpose. It’s just how the universe has worked for me, until now.

I was an idiot to try and hide it from Sir, who could tell at breakfast that I was exhausted, and that I wasn’t okay. I blamed it on work the night before, saying how sore I was, which was true..but it’s not just work. it’s this point in the year.

I needed the couple hours alone with him before we met his girlfriend. Needed to brace myself.  I like her, I have said that I think fifty million times at this point, it’s just a huge change from what I’m used to and although I felt comfortable meeting her emotionally I was already on edge due to other things. I decompressed in Sir’s lap for a little bit before we walked over to a cafe to meet her, with Sir giving me a couple worried looks over my physical state along the way.

“You’re terrified” he told me after I met his girlfriend and we hugged. She had gone off to grab herself some coffee and Sir had pulled me back against his side. “You’re absolutely terrified.”

The sad thing is that under normal circumstances I would have been FINE. My big mistake was not in explaining to Sir what this time of year did to me; how bad I actually was. I am not used to sharing that kind of information with anyone, ever. I’ve never needed to. But considering Sir kind of owns my body and I had been abusing the hell out of that body….

It was a newbie mistake.

I had managed to get my mood up with some sugar, and honestly felt incredibly comfortable when we went out to lunch. I am a tiny thing, as I’ve mentioned, and at one point was eyeing a piece of sushi so far across the table that I knew I was going to have to very impolitely reach. Sir chuckled when he saw the uncertainty on my face and said, “That’s okay. We’re all family here.” There was something about him saying that…it made me so happy. It felt right being around Sir, and being around his other partner. I enjoyed it, very much. I want to see her again; maybe have a girls day one of these days. She’s deep in the BDSM community, and has a bubbly personality that I envy.

I’m much more quiet than she is, though Sir has told me her personality is different when the two of them are alone. That doesn’t surprise me in the least. What did surprise me was how well Sir balanced between the two of us. I could see why he was drawn to both of us, and why he wanted both of us in his life. I could also see that he was..happy.

Well, until my mood tanked and he started worrying again.

As I said, it was very much a newbie mistake, what I did. Keeping my physical and emotional state private..why, because I was ashamed? I guess I was. I didn’t want to show cracks in my venire, even though Sir knows they’re there. I don’t like telling him about my physical or emotional weaknesses, even though that is part of our relationship.

Being with Sir means automatically being in a safe place. He has mentioned time and time again that this is “simply one of the services he provides.” I know this. I trust him absolutely. I wouldn’t be making the collar that will soon be locked around my neck if I didn’t trust him absolutely (Yes, I’m making my collar.. I’ll write about that in the next post). So why is it so hard for me to show when I’m hurting, especially when he has very little to do with that hurting? I could understand my mental state if he had caused some harm and I just didn’t want to show him..but it was less that and more that I was emotionally on edge because I was physically a mess. I took up a new job at the wrong time, because I just didn’t want to leave this city. I still don’t, and I have more job interviews to come (including two today), but I told him nothing about this, when I should have been honest with him.

He told me not to fall on my sword about it, but it’s a lesson well learned. Sir cannot properly care for me if he does not have all the information, and I can not properly interact with other partners if I’m so out of sorts and exhausted. With him not knowing or understanding why because I haven’t communicated with him it throws off the whole dynamic, making things much more difficult than they have to be.

You live, you learn. It’s not as if I’ve done this before. I told Sir everything before I went to bed..and was told to go to sleep before midnight (something I rarely do). I did. I plan to do it again tonight to try and recharge my body best I can.

Sir owns me, and because of that I am a reflection of him. I should not work my body to the point of breaking, even if it means I make pretty art things. There are other ways to make art… There has to be..

I suppose it’s time to learn a new system.

Yours in a better state

-Rena