All the Lives I’ve Lived Before

Today I took a mental health day and let my racing brain recoup from what has already become a busy semester of grad school. I stayed home and allowed myself the guilty pleasure of purging through my closet, a relatively normal thing to many that used to be an extremly difficult thing for me to do.

For 28, I have been and done many things. Even looking back through this blog, when this whole journey started, I feel as though I have lived an entire life since 22.

A lot has changed since the last time I sat and wrote in this blog. A lot continues to change still.

We moved to Oakland in late April, after I met Ace in Chicago. Outside of the truck being a monstrosity of a thing that we both struggled with it was further proof that we wouldn’t kill each other while spending extended periods together. Honest reccomendation from a lovesick fool; find yourself a partner that will belt out Paradise by the Dashboard Lights with you while driving through Iowa. It makes the hours fly.

Seth has been both a saint and a rock. He has blown me away with his consistency, from showing up and helping to pack up and move back in April to continually paying his share of rent when some of us weren’t able to. I was so afraid of asking him to be domestic, and to be domestic in a city at that. He moved to Oakland for me. He reminds me often that he wouldn’t have stayed if not for me. Our relationship reminds me of perfectly worn in leather; comfortable, and natural and an easy fit that feels so good. I partially think it’s because we’ve both been through the school of hard knocks, and having come so close to losing everything we are both so grateful for what we do have. He’s steady, warm, comforting. After a year and a half of being together instead of drifting apart we’ve gotten closer. There’s nothing about he and I that scares me and that’s.. refreshing.

I’ve gone from being completely on my own and barely able to keep a roof over my own to, while being tight, living with and in a family of my own. The kids and Ace’s other parter Aeonise joined us in California in June, and with their arrival my life completely changed. Aeonise and I are still learning how to communicate with one another and live together. She started dating Seth soon after the move in, and bless my Papa he’s been pacing the relationship so healthily. I suppose there’s been a bit of practice living with a partner while also trying to date them. He managed it with me. There have been some baubles, but that’s expected with all major life changes.

I love our two kids to death…but gods do kids change everything. They change priorities, energy levels, what comes first.. They’ve changed social schedules and when I can and cannot go out and what I can and cannot say. I wouldn’t change it for anything.

Planning a wedding while working on grad school is.. exhausting. Gratifying. Stressful. While adjusting to a poly nesting family which is..apparently a rare thing? Whoops? While balacing other partners. As I mentioned. Life is..completely different.

I’m balancing life with my nesting partners and family as well as life dating other partners. I’ve had a girlfriend for over a year now, though we started calling each other partners in August officially. Joy blows me away. She’s gorgeous, intelligent, compassionate… and another partner I’ve connected with on chance. It happened two Surrenders ago, at a queer orgy. I had tried to set her up with Ace, who I knew was crushing on her and who was at the time visiting from North Carolina. She gave me this heart-melting grin and said, “Actually, I’ve had a crush on you for a couple of years now.” …and then after four years of friendship we ended up frantically making out for several hours. Since then the dates have become sweeter and sweeter, with the right sprinke of spice in between. I admit, I find it hard to get enough of My Lady. When we play, when we kiss, when we dance, it’s like the world falls away and it’s just she and I. My sweet Ace often mentiones how he likes seeing us together because the glow he sees makes him better understand why people comment about he and I.

Chris and I are still Chris and I, though our interractions are limited these days. There is a lot of love, though sometimes little spoons and time on both our sides. What I have always been grateful for with mine and Chris’s interractions are that when we are together we slip back in to he and I, and when we are apart we support one another best we can.

I’ve cut ties with two familiar figures from this blog, Cal and Ryan. Ryan.. is probably the first parter that I have regrets with. I try very hard to live without them. I regret not noting how manipulative he was earlier. I regret beign so blind and submissive and desperate for his attention and love when he used me and manipulated me. I don’t regret writing the letter that got him formally banned from parts of the community, as, unfortunately, I was one of several that fell into a pattern with him. He almost destroyed me. I wouldn’t let him do that to others more innocent where I could help it. James chides me for beating myself up about Ryan on the regular. He reminds me often that sometimes lessons have to be learned the hard way. I hate it when that asshole is right sometimes.

The other figure I am no longer in contact with is, ironically, the person that started all of this. I’ve cut ties with Cal. Not formally. But I no longer speak to him, nor have any desire to interract with him when we are at shared events. A lot was leading up to that. A couple botched scenes. Continual nights at BaGG where I would watch him drink until his own mental disorders were out of control and then have to go to bat for him with another manager in order to keep him from getting banned. And then he began talking about the 18 year old long distance partner he was courting. He was goign to take her virginity, since if he didn’t do it someone else worse would probably do it. So he might as well give her what she wanted. Cal has teenage daughters. I lost all respect for him when he went through with the deed, marking this poor girl for life. I’m still shaking off some of the echos of Cal and it’s been years. I was FAR from a virgin. I wish the poor girl as well as his other partners luck. I do not wish him ill, but I find nothing safe or comforting about his company any longer.

The world has continued to spin, even as I’ve run out of time to write time and time again.

Tonight, as I purged through my clothes, I found remnants of other me’s. Girly dresses I had worn to make Ryan happy. The polka dot pin up dress Chris had purchased for a date, which remains safely hung in my closet. A couple nerdy pattern dressed that went back to the days of me being James’s. So many different versions of me. For the first time I had very little trouble purging out the unused or little worn clothing, the echos of Rene’s past. It felt good to clear out the cobwebs; to find in the piles of folded fabric what I wanted to cover myself in.

I am different. Life is different. And with that, it’s time for a different blog. I will make sure, as I transition things over, that this archive is reachable for those that want to keep reading it. My kinky journey has far from ended; it’s just no longer at its beginning. I’m quite a fewf chapters in at this point.

Speaking of my kinky journey… there is the matter of James.

There has been a twisting, winding road with he and I. There were many points where we likely should have left each other be and not shared space. Four years after my collar came off we are healthier than we have ever been. We share space weekly, with the ritual of BaGG remaining a staple in my life and now in Ace’s and Seth’s as well (with Aeonyse waiting until we have a steady babysitter so that she may also go regularly). The playing-not-playing has been a common occurance for a couple of years. But, we’ve gone from me sitting near him if there’s space to me sitting by his feet to him making space so I could sit by his feet. To sharing the couch and cuddling.

I’ve asked him to be in my wedding. That, too, was a gradual process. It started with asking him to be my photographer. And then he had so many wheelchair issues that I hired a backup to let him be a little bit of a guest. And then my matron of honor told me she wouldn’t be able to come out for the wedding. I could have let the spot open. It would have actually evened out the sides of the aisles. Instead, I asked James to stand up there with me. To be my Man of Honor. I told him straight out that under no cicumstance should we stand across the aisle from one another, and under no circumstance should he stand across the aisle from ANYONE, but having him up there with me would mean more than the world. It would mean that he actually approved of who I was legally bound to. He trusted who would be catching me regularly.

He said yes. And then I asked him if we could actually start playing again. Regularly.

And he said yes to that too. We have a play date later this month. The first one we’ve had for three and a half years.

And so my journey continues, no longer fresh and new. There’s a bit of jade in my eye now. Nonetheless, I very much adore my big, fat, poly, kinky life. Even when I am exhausted and drained.

Until the next chapter I remain, as always, yours.

~Rene

 

 

Same Book, Different Chapters

Hello world.. It’s been a while. And I’m still here. Words are just hard sometimes.

Life right now is a sea of polarities and changes, and getting it all down.. There isn’t enough time. There aren’t enough words. I came much too close to disappearing.

I suppose first news.. I’m engaged. Which is odd. And mind boggling. And something I check in about probably far more than I should. My sweet Ace asked me to marry him on October 17,2018. Knowing I need to be poly. Knowing that there would be other partners, as he has another nesting partner. Knowing I want babies. Knowing all the things and loving me anyway. He has loved me, and even wanted me, for a very, VERY long time and is the happily ever after I never thought I would have. We were never supposed to end up together. We met in a chat room over a decade ago and over two thousand miles apart. We’ve always been long-distance and, I admit, not always been ethical. And he, my metamour, and a couple of kiddos will be joining me in the Bay. Ace comes in May, and my meta and the kids come in June.

Ace is flourishing as a top, which.. I’ve needed. But he is not a sadist. He can’t beat me. He’s not an impact top.

James and I are healthier than we’ve been in a long while. He’s been an incredible friend, and has dealt with the barrage of questions from friends about how he feels about me getting married. Just because I said yes to Ace doesn’t mean I would say no to interactions and adventures with James. He knows I love him to the moon and back. Lately he’s been one of the few safe places I’ve had. One of my few kink connections that I know I can lean on. The poor man has absorbed more of my tears in the last few months..but we are still on uncertain ground as far as playing goes. I asked him. I hit a wall after months of not playing with any sort of impact and I asked. He asked me why. And I told him that he was safe. He wouldn’t ask for more. He knows me inside and out. And he knows… I’m not all there right now. A soft yes turned into a maybe as the weeks have gone by and I find myself.. Still starving.

I hadn’t been to the Citadel in months. I fell into a foolish trap, and I didn’t even realize it until I was too far gone to undo the damage. Ryan and I haven’t seen each other since 2018. We talk, every day. We still do good morning and good night rituals. We play video games together, over distance. But he hasn’t seen me since December. We haven’t played since November. And we stopped having sex over the summer. We tried talking to a relationship coach and instead of tackling the issues it became that everything was my fault and I needed to change. And I did what I always do. I adapted, I changed, I bent backwards. I cried, and mourned, and.. have been slowly coming to terms with the fact that my Daddy has become the most toxic human in my life.

I still wear my mark.
I haven’t called him Daddy since 2018.
Everything hurts.

I was waiting to go to the Citadel with HIM. Waiting for him to be excited for BaGG again (he stopped going in November, taking away our easiest play venue). Waiting for him to make room for me again.. And he hasn’t. He didn’t. And I’m still processing that because my silly squishy mind loves him so damn fucking much that I can’t make myself walk away. I can’t make myself say “we need to talk”. And I know I need to. Poor James and Cal have heard hours of me sobbing and crying and…breaking.

And so much of of me is breaking. Is dying. The part of me that is a little is this sad, shattered thing right now too scared to show itself most of the time.

The part of me that is, and has always been a kinkster…

I went to the Citadel for the first time in months last Friday, for Bent, a party that James has worked for years. He encouraged me to come hang out and even poked my squishy sub side, asking if I would fetch sushi for him. I had to get him sushi by me and not our go-to place in Japantown..but fetching helped my brain a little. It was the most submissive thing I had done in a long time. I never thought I would miss things like sweeping someone’s floor and doing someone’s dishes but..

Sigh.

I watched. I watched a lot, and I wanted.. But I’m aware that I’m hurting too much to reach out for new connections. And I am also aware that one of the things that would greatly help the hurting is play. I watched James practice throw a new whip onto a spanking bench and it took everything in me not to launch myself onto the damn bench. I am starving. I need impact. Hard, pushing me to my limit impact. I need to break on the cross. I need marks. I need metal and whips and canes and all the things that make me fly.

And I don’t have anyone safe to do that with right now. My safe person was Ryan. He was who scratched my D/s itch.

Now…

The mental play from Ace helps, but he’s still 3000 miles away until April.

Is it horrible to say that I desperately need the ever-living crap beaten out of me? Probably. Still saying it.

For now, most of my D/s is fantasy. I’m re-reading and listening to the books and stories that got me into kink to begin with, and when I don’t miss it so much. I am the single friend at BaGG, smiling for all my friends that have coupled up while I was stuck and trying to save a relationship that had dug itself so deep into my soul.

I am in a sea of people that all know me and adore me, and I feel so utterly alone. There is no one that can catch me in the way that I need. No one that can let me fly. No one that can push those D/s buttons that I desperately need pushed. And. I’m dealing with that best I can. Some days are much easier than others. Some days my demons eat me alive and I look back on who I was and I miss her. I miss that human that would skip through the dungeon from one scene to another and go home black and blue with a smile on my face.

Bright side. It’s been so long since I played that I may actually bruise.
Down side. I have no idea what my pain tolerance is anymore. I doubt I’m still a heavy bottom.

But it would be nice to know.

I have a newer partner, Seth, that’s been living on my couch, in now in my roommate’s room, since July (my roommate of two years moved out last week). He is wonderfully flawed, a sweet cowboy that is slowly learning the world of BaGG and the misfits I call my family. He’s a country boy from the middle of nowhere, so all that city noise can be a bit too much for him but he tries. He tries with me too, encouraging me to call him Papa Bear and giving me space to little. He can’t hit me. He tries with that too. He will smack my ass sometimes during sex (and to be clear the sex is VERY GOOD. It’s just very vanilla in many ways) and bite me a little. But, it’s band aids when I need stitches. He’s put up with me so much. He’s supported me through the bad nights when I’ve come home sobbing over what asshole thing Ryan has done next. He’s a good, wonderful human that I’m blessed to have in my life.

I have others. A beautiful woman that I’ve begun seeing and that I’ve played with. It was quite fun… it made me squeak.

I need to scream.

I have a sweet Australian that returns from time to time and makes me feel like a goddess. I’ll see him again in March for a lovely weekend up in the mountains at hot springs.

I need to cry.

I am..functioning. Mostly. Hurting. But functioning.

Another biggie I should probably mention is… well. There’s been a bit of shift in gender identity. I cut off all my hair and shaved the sides, so now I have ‘the’ stereotypical queer haircut. She and her are still okay, but over the last few months they/them has become increasingly more comfortable to identify as. I don’t like Miss. I like Mx.

I’m learning. I’m growing. I’m hurting. But I’m growing. I’m back in the studio. I’m working hard at my job. I’m building a family.

 

I just miss flying. I hope I haven’t forgotten how.

It has been a long time, but I am still yours, dear reader

-Rene

Playing with Fire

I am not the easiest person to get close to anymore.

There was a time when it was much easier; where conversation and connection was a casual thing and I didn’t worry about what could happen or how I would get hurt or.. any of that.

Time and trauma are funny things. I’m 27 now. I’ve kept this blog since I was 22. In those five years I have changed and grown so much. I remember starting this journey unable to fathom polyamory and having insecurities left, right, and sideways about it. Now.. I can’t imagine not being polyamorous. Only choosing one partner? HOW? They all fill such different needs.

I can’t imagine my life without kink either, though there are times when I’ve tried. Lately my needs haven’t been met in the kink department. Part of that is my own doing; life has gotten in the way to a large extent and having spoons and capacity to get to events is.. hard. I’ve had prior commitments and partners going through some bumps that required emotional support that overshadowed my need for a good beating. Part of it is because trusting people is very, very difficult for me these days.

Trauma changes you. PTSD has left its mark on me in the form of a brain that is not neuro-typical, and it makes dating, especially in the kinky world, harder. It also doesn’t help that I can play very heavy when in the right headspace and that can scare new tops. I have a very, very sweet partner that’s the closest to vanilla I’ll ever go these days; a big bear of a man by the name of Rowan. He’s a cowboy, and I ride him frequently (saving lots of horses, ba dum bum tish). The sex is fantastic. We wrestle, and bite, and fuck each other senseless..but he’s not comfortable choking me. Or hitting me. Or pulling my hair. The poor man offered to earlier today when he saw I was close to squirming from lack of heavy play and I had to explain that the bottom doesn’t enjoy having the crap beaten out of them unless the top enjoys themselves as well. It’s that sadist’s grin I always look for. And my sweet Rowan is no sadist. He’s a fantastic human that can handle me when I break and that has a very very pretty penis. But he’s no sadist.

A man that is, and a heavy one at that, is Cal. As long as we have known each other we have only played a handful of times, for so many reasons. There’s always this wee bit of tension between Cal and I; words left unsaid that will likely never be said. We circle one another like predator and prey, one or the other lunging forward from time to time and initiating something more than our typical friendship. After the mentorship, and after one of Cal’s longer-term crazy ex’s, he became one of my safe people. He had no interest in me, I thought, and so there was no chance of partnership. No chance of him seeing more of my broken pieces than he already has. There are gaps in our history of knowing one another. In those gaps.. I changed.

It was a few weeks ago. I was at BaGG. Ryan left early because of a very long day and I was left to my own devices. This typically means head pets and drinks from Cal (of the non-alcoholic variety these days. 9-5 necessities).

I was.. poorly behaved. Venting about Ryan and some of the on-again off-again issues we had been having. Ryan and I are going on two years of dating. It’s not new and shiny anymore, and I am the partner that sees the most. It’s a good thing and a bad thing, but that’s a conversation for another day.

Returning to the current conversation, Cal and I flirted, as we often do when I’m at BaGG and there’s alcohol. He offered to beat me. I said yes.

I shouldn’t have. Not with alcohol in his system and me already worn and without a partner there. This is very much on me.

The scene itself was good, as our few scenes often are. I ended up on the spanking bench, which is much less enjoyable for me than the cross because I can take less, but I wanted catharsis. Cal hits HARD. He’s not afraid to be mean. Sometimes I need that, I admit. He says the right sadist things, like how he loves seeing my tears. He pushed me to breaking. I fell, and called yellow when I felt too much. Outside of a couple hits that just..didn’t land right because of how my frame hits the horse it was exactly what I needed but was afraid to ask for.

The aftercare.. was on me. I started crashing HARD, and managed to crash midway through a heavy conversation with Cal. My body typically gets very cold after a heavy scene. I physically shiver and need contact or a warm place to come back down. I felt the shivers, felt my level of fatigue, and realizing that I didn’t have capacity to communicate that I needed more aftercare I did the next best thing. I vocalized that I needed to go.

I have my goodbye routine pretty well down at BaGG. When I’m at max capacity I go and I find James. I give him a hug and a nuzzle, tell him to get his stubborn ass home, and I peace out.

I was waiting for James for that goodbye and could see him, finally. I had to wait. Cal was waiting too. He had wanted to walk me out. I saw him behind me for a moment and then felt an arm around my neck.

Normally I like choking. It’s one of my favorite things, along with hair pulling and face fucking and hard smacks to the ass and… you get it. Because of where I was mentally it was NOT a good thing. It was a shock to my system that thought the scene was long over and needed to go to bed and caused my crash to intensify. After the choke Cal crushed me against his chest. Normally this is also a very good thing, but I could see James. I could see him but couldn’t get to him, couldn’t get out of Cal’s arms. Panic grew. He finally let me go and I ran, frazzled, out of the club. At home I broke, horribly, with one of my partners holding me while my brain fractured into too many pieces. Eventually I crawled into bed at about 3 am somewhat put back together.

I had a date with Ryan the next evening. He already knew that the night had ended rough and checked in with me in the morning to see how I was. I was at a stage where I was having issues with words, even to him. It happens when I break sometimes; words feel like they’re trapped in quick sand in my mind. It’s so difficult to vocalize and I fight the urge to shut down and turtle.

That night I curled up in his lap and we talked through the evening, even the parts where I vented about him. Ryan listened intently and asked the right questions, a frown forming on the face when I told him about the choke at the end of the night. He asked if I had reached out to Cal and told him any of this yet. I answered honestly that I hadn’t. That I didn’t plan to. My brain did a thing and it wasn’t his fault.

It was Ryan that pointed out that alcohol may have played a part and misreading the signals that I was done for the night, and possibly the removal of alcohol would make for a much safer scene and aftercare. I couldn’t argue. Cal and I have done one scene at the Citadel together and though it was heavy and my height makes things more challenging for him it was absolutely fucking wonderful; heavy impact that made me fly with a force that I only ever have gotten from James. From a safe person.

Ryan is my Daddy, my protector. He asked me what I needed to feel safe around Cal. I made up the rule of removing alcohol from play, and contacted him the next day.

… To say it didn’t go well would be an understatement.

Cal has the ability to make you feel like a shining star when his full attention is on you. He also has the ability to make any human feel damaged, or broken, or worthless. My hurt ended up hurting him in such a way that he through up walls so quickly I got whiplash. He said that we were incompatible. That clearly he had misread the signs and the scene didn’t go well. That I had chosen to blow him off and not tell him what was going on the day before. There were other things I really don’t feel like rehashing and I’m not to a place where I can scroll through the messages and give ya’ll direct quotes. I got thrown away again, as I have been in the past. But he wanted to be friends. With slight censorship to our conversations. So, friends but not really.

I was surprised how much the rejection from Cal hurt. I knew I loved him. I don’t think I realized until then how much I actually wanted him. How much I wanted him to want me as well. There was a part of me that I think saw the play as a positive thing; something that could even become regular. I had often debated asking Cal if we could try going on an actual date and drop the circling act. Just.. dive in and see what happened. He was the first one in the kink world to notice me. That has always meant something. He’s also the only one that I’ve let throw me away over, and over, and over again. Because he was special. Because he mattered. Because he was safe, and I loved him even though I saw he was very flawed. I do not idolize him. At this point I know Cal way too well to. I call him on his bullshit at times.

I called him on this. I said something akin to he was too busy kicking his own ass to actually here what had happened and what I was asking him for. When he kept going I asked for space. He kept going again. I asked him for more space. I asked him not to reply. And control freak that he is, he replied.

I remember staring at the last message, crying, and throwing my phone.

I haven’t been to BaGG in two weeks.

Ryan has no interest in going anymore, which breaks my heart on a couple levels. He has so much going on that we haven’t played. In that time my brain has been eating me alive thanks to other things, always coming back to the fact that I’m broken. That I’m defective. There was..more hurt than I want to admit from that exchange between Cal and I. There was a lot of disappointment and a lack of trust.

He will catch me if I fall, so long as he didn’t cause that fall.

Today he texted me, a sweet check in. And I don’t know how to respond to it. Someone that used to be one of the safest people to me in my mind hurt me.. a lot. Not in a bad scene. Not in a bad drop or aftercare. But after. When I said things had gone wrong for me and this was the boundary that I needed to feel safe.

I won’t have Ryan with me at BaGG next week. And I need to get past this fear and just.. go. I feel frozen. Overwhelmed. There are no spoons. Life is pummeling me and there’s no relief in sight. I don’t know when the next time I will play will be. The number of people that are safe for me continue to dwindle. My world continues to shrink as I try so hard not to collapse under the weight of needs that I cannot fill for myself.

I gave into the temptation to play with fire. I got burned. And I don’t know where to go from here. If there’s anywhere to go. I don’t know what Cal sees when he looks at me anymore, or what he thought about me before all this.

I guess I’ll never know now.

Yours, hurting but slowly mending,

Rene

Things Left Unsaid

I don’t normally end dates with Ryan in tears… He’s actually one of the few sadists in my life that dislikes making me cry. Tonighthas been… a lot

Let me backtrack.

Today started out a little rocky to begin with. I hadn’t realized that the partner Ryan had the slip with was spending the night. He had forgotten to tell me, and I found out in a nonchalant ‘she just left and I’m gonna go take a nap’ message.

I twanged. Badly.

I took off my mark from him and let myself cry and try to process. It hit hard because it felt like he was hiding it from me. That is illogial. There’s no reason he would hide it from me. He tells me when he has dates with others, as I do him. He told me about the date. He just. Neglected the overnight. And honestly thought he had told me.

Which is something my brain still doesn’t trust.

I got there, eventually. Bruised, and a little bit weary logical brain started kicking in. It had to. I had a date with Ryan two hours after I found out his other partner stayed the night and I couldn’t show up a hot mess. I wanted to have a good date with him. The one before had been..nice. Mellow. Low key. But Sundays were when we usually played. It had been over a week since he’d touched me in any way sexually, the longest since we started dating, and I wanted his hands on me.

He’s had a busy last couple of weeks. One of my meta’s came in to town and spent the weekend last week, and work, a case of the sniffles, and a date last night had him worn. I could see that long before he disappeared for a couple of hours for a weekly meditation group. Logic brain braced myself for lack of play and told myself that it was alright. That just because we didn’t play tonight didn’t mean he doesn’t want me.

Illogical brain, however, was still craving touch. When he confirmed that he wasn’t up to playing tonight I swallowed  the illogical frustration and did something stupid. Without thinking, I reached out and vented to my roommate to try and calm down. Ryan knows me and my reactions well, and I do flair up emotionally quickly and easily before coming back down. I wanted the flair to die off faster; wanted to just get on with the rest of my night and enjoy it. Venting helps.

He saw the venting. He ended up frustrated and upset. Which. Made me even more upset and unsettled.

He voiced frustrations of how pressured he feels by me, and how often he finds it difficult to say no because of my reactions and I felt.. lost. I don’t know how to respond to that.. When I tell him truthfully that I really want to play and he’s not in the mood he gets frustrated by seeing my disappointment and feels pressured. When I don’t express the need to play and try to swallow what I’m feeling and get over it faster I get chided for not telling him when something is wrong.. But what’s the right reaction at this point? What’s safe? I want and desire my partner. I can’t just turn of the “damn that sucks” when I feel it without it showing a little..  And that’s all it is. It’s a “damn that sucks” moment that fades as I adjust. Touch is a huge love language for me. And he does touch me in nonsexual ways often. He will stroke my arm when we cuddle watching a movie or pet my hair. But there’s a difference between that and grabbing my ass while we cuddle, or slipping a hand under my clothing as he used to. It’s touch expressed in a very different way. And I miss it. I’m allowed to miss it. I am an emotional squishball. It takes me half a beat to adjust, and sometimes he just can’t understand why. He doesn’t need that half a beat, and I envy him. I do. I can also see why it frustrates him, that I get hung up on feels between points A and B sometimes  I’m getting better at not being ruled by my emotions but they still make an impact when they hit. There is a step between “oh, I was looking forward to that” and “it’s okay things change and these plans will be fun too!”

Lately, it’s been harder to adjust. I am very secure in poly so long as I know my place and know that place is good. I am Ryan’s little girl. A lot of that ends up being expressed sexually. We indulge in dark age play rather frequently, and thanks to Ryan a lot of things that I thought were too taboo have turned out..not to be so. Our scenes have gotten wonderfully twisted at times and I love them…but they seem to be happening less and less. He beats me at BaGG fairly frequently with his hands which I enjoy quite a bit, but the nights that we could go to the dungeon often get claimed before I can ask for them (there was a little event at Catalyst I had wanted to go to this weekend..and chickened out on bringing it up because he mentioned having a date Saturday with the other partner before I could, and I feel too guilty to ask him to bump the plans to another night). I see him after work, which is lovely, but often ends with him fatigued. We used to play at his place with impact from time to time, but he told me on Friday that he was afraid his walls were too thin for our impact. That was an honest disappointment. We did a scene months ago that ended with him fucking me while he hit me with the curry comb…and I loved it. It was raw and brutal and hurt in all the right ways..and it’s not something that would happen at the Citadel.

Right now he’s my only regular sexual partner, and that is on me. He mentioned during our tough discussion that he thought me finding others to sate my needs would be really good for him. Great. Yes. Fine. I”m working on that. “I’ve heard you turn down dates. They don’t have to be kinky.”

Here’s the problem. They kind of do. At least, for me.

I am not a collector. I am poly because I am realistic in that no person can sate all the needs of another. No one can fill all the slots of another or check all the boxes. And the needs that aren’t being filled for me are those deep, dark, submissive urges. My slave side. The part of me that craves protocol and formal D/s. I’m not going to get that from a vanilla relationship. I don’t honestly think I can have a vanilla relationship anymore. The kink community is too much a part of my day to day life. It’s a Dominant’s voice that turns me on, that gruff, toppy, no nonsense tone. It’s firm hands that will hold me down and fuck me one moment, beat the crap out of me at another moment, and pet and stroke me after all of it. Express that to a vanilla person and you find them running for the hills. And I’ve tried. I always end up feeling like the freak.

The problem with wanting, craving, the level of D/s that I do is that.. new partners don’t come easily. It’s hard to get that deep. It takes time, and there’s no guarantee of it. So, I can invest a year or two into someone and then it just.. stops when a wall gets hit. I am a LOT, with a lot of moving pieces and I’m aware of that. Get deep enough with me and you will find some jagged edges you can’t see at all from the surface. That takes time, and trust, and not something that can happen from a shallow relationship. I don’t find them fulfilling or worth my time. I work a lot. My time is valuable. And I find dating.. exhausting. With the shit I’ve been processing interracting with others has been MUCH harder than it’s been in the past, and this is interracting with established souls in my world. Trying to pull new people in right now is too much when I fear I’m already at max capacity.

Another problem is.. it’s not just about me getting laid. It would scratch an itch, yeah, but not the right itch. I have a very good relationshp with my favorite vibrator. I can take care of myself for quite a bit sexually. It’s the lack of contact with that particular partner, that lack of bond, that does fucked up things to my brain. Especially when I know play has happened with metas in the time that he and I have had a dry spell.

I feel.. displaced, tolerated instead of wanted, lost and confused and just.. placed on a shelf, picked up when useful and put back when I become too much. And I miss my Daddy. I haven’t been able to really little, really be his little girl, in weeks, and I miss that connection so much it physically hurts. There’s nothing that replaces that, no way that someone else could check those particular boxes. It doesn’t have to be sex. More than friendly pets, an extra hair tug, pinning me to the wall at BaGG and kissing me till my toes curl. Anything that hinted at want and desire, even if the body wasn’t physically up for it.. Even words. “When Daddy has the energy we should try BLANK. Would you like that, sweetie?” He used to mind fuck me, tease me, tell me naughty things we would do or try. There was a time early on where I teased him so much that he ‘made a mess’ in his shorts while he was at work and it turned me on so much I was close to cumming. I’ve tried engaging lately with hits and jokes and photos and it just..falls flat.

I don’t know how to ask for any of that without feeling like I’m pressuring him. I asked if I could write out a ‘little list’ about a week ago about things I wanted to explore while in little headspace that I don’t often have the words for when I’m there. He said it was a good idea. I haven’t been able to really start it…because I feel guilty for asking for anything. I don’t want him to think I’m greedy and asking for too much.

He’s disappearing for nine days this coming Friday, for a meditation course that I know will do him good. Him sitting settles a lot, and I’ve seen him more frustrated than normal and in poorer moods than his norm outside of anything between he and I. It will be amazing for him, and I’m so happy he’s going.

At the same time, the illogical, emotional little wants attention from her Daddy. Wants to be wanted by her Daddy. I asked if we could have a date on Tuesday and his immediate response was that he needed time to himself. He’s seeing me three days in a row. That’s a lot. But. They are three days where the chances of sexual contact are slim, especially before a meditation course where he will be abstaining from sexual anything. I’m staying over Thursday to drive him to that on Friday in the early afternoon. BaGG is purely social; no pink parts. By the time he gets back it will be a couple days shy of a month that he’s taken any of my holes, or wanted me naked. Or. Wanted me.

I am trying to at least get some play in during that time. The Dominant that I played with last Master’s Den reached out and suggested getting a cup of coffee or a drink and I jumped at it. I like him. There’s chemistry, and he’s vetted by my roommate. He’s safe, and knows how to hit the way I need, and made it no secret that he was attracted to me. I’m excited to see where it goes. I’ve also reached out to Grey to set up a long-overdue date, along with another friend that used to be a roommate. He understands the social anxieties well. We’ve had a not-a-date planned for eons, and while I don’t quite get a lady boner for his body his mind is INCREDIBLY sexy. I’ve been seeing Chris more often lately, and while we don’t have a sexual relationship I enjoy his company a great deal. I even have spent a bit of time with Cal, nonsexually of course. He’s safe, wonderfully safe. The way I figure it he and I are both jaded enough and have fucked up enough with one another enough times to realize that friendship needs to come before all else, and that our friendship is good and rock solid and REALLY not worth fucking up for a fuck. Even if it’s a good fuck.

I am not hermiting. I am actually trying to be more social than I have been in a long time and fill some needs that can’t wait around forever. It’s just. None of them are Daddy. None of them can be Daddy, nor would I want them to be. Every person whose company I keep are unique and different in their own ways.

And. I miss Daddy. I also love him, a lot, and that sometimes means putting someone else’s needs and, especially limits, before your own.

I can’t force him to miss me or want me. Nor would I want to. I can’t ask him for more than he’s willing and able to give, and for now sexy anything seems to be on that list. It hurts, I’m not going to lie. It hurts like a motherfucker when it seems like my metas are getting their slices of pie and I get half of mine. But. That’s not my call to make. I will cry. I will process. I will let myself be sad when I’m alone and try to be in the moment and enjoy what Ryan can give me when I’m not. I will not think about my metas, or what new pretties are joining the roster, or my place. I will drive him to his meditation course. I will go on more dates and try to social more. I will let myself feel the feels but not be swallowed by them. I will hope that eventually Daddy will have time and space for me, but not put an expectation on when that time and space will be. I will give what I am allowed to give and not ask him for more than he is willing to give me. I enjoy being the one that has keys to his apartment, and the one he calls on for rides or to watch his cat. I enjoy being the partner that does the most of the day to day with him, even silly things like laundry or grocery shopping. Hell, I enjoy doing his dishes. I will do my very best to focus on what I do have, and what is fulfilling me in the relationship between Ryan and I rather than miss what is lacking at the moment.

There are going to be a hell of a lot of growing pains. I predict that multiple crying spells will happen. But I have headache meds for that shit. I will do my very best. Ryan is a good human. I am lucky to have him in my world, and even the best relationships sometimes have bumps.

Sometimes the bumps knock you off the road for a little bit. Eventually, you get back on.

I am not okay, but I am confident that I will be in time.

Yours, as always

-Rene

Mistakes

It started Saturday.

I was exhusted. I had started my new job on Wednesday, and they had asked me to work Saturday instead of Thursday just as I got the confirmation for a cleanup shift on Friday at the Citadel.. I had managed both. Work at 9 on Saturday after getting back to my apartment at 3 a.m.

I caved. And I drank a Red Bull to get through the day.

I’m not supposed to have Red Bull. It’s a rule from Ryan. For the most part I’ve managed to swear off of them relatively well…but every now and again I cave.

I made another mistake. After drinking the energy drink to power up the fumes I had left, I caved and told my Daddy. What’s the point of rules and rituals if you don’t follow them? I broke the rules. I new I would be punished for it. I expected it.

Daddy took my orgasms away for a week. By the time he gave me my punishment it was late afternoon. I was exhausted, the drink having worn off, and cranky. Daddy had a date later in the evening that would be a sleepover. I was..fuming, and a little hurt. Ryan had promised me that he would let me cum at least once when we played together in person.. I cum incredibly easily, and almost always will go over that lovely edge when he growls at me to ‘cum with Daddy’. I had asked for a comprimise, reminded him of his promise… and didn’t hear back until Ryan was heading off to bed for the evening. I tried not to stew, to shake off the hurt I felt, and go with the flow of the day. He ended the day by saying he was sure that a compromise could be reached and we would talk about it tomorrow. I went to bed smiling and feeling better, looking forward to a date the next day.

I got to Ryan’s long after his date from the night before had left. She’s a sweet girl, and has always been kind to me…but she triggers so many insecurities in me. She’s gorgeous, and the amount that Ryan WANTS her is palpable… and at times, has made me feel invisible. I don’t think I’m ugly. I know I’m pretty…cute, even. But I know my brand of sexy isn’t exactly Jessica Rabbit. She… well… she gets the man that won’t touch my leather vest to wear those natural sheep condoms so they can fuck because she’s allergic to latex. The longer Ryan and this lovely creature have played, the more I’ve noticed Ryan going soft mid fuck, Ryan not initiating play, Ryan not kissing me hello…and I’ve wanted to hide. To cry. To kick myself and tell myself I’m seeing things. That comparason isn’t good and that there were reasons for all the things that had nothing to do with the pretty. Fatigue, a packed schedule, the wear and tear of helping me through the holidays.

We went grocery shopping, and he wasn’t himself. Ryan often mentiones how my emotions are visible on my face, even when I tell him nothing’s wrong. He’s very similar. For a lazy afternoon leading to a meditation in the evening, Ryan seemed incredibly tightly wound. I was cooking him dinner in an effert to save him money and do something special for him, and was grabbing food for the meal while he did his normal grocery shopping.

We got back to his apartment and I jumped into prep, beginning to pull out mixing bowls and pots. Halfway through reaching through a baby pot Ryan comes over to me and touhes my shoulder. “Before dinner I have to tell you something kind of heavy.” I had a bowl in my hand, was cornered in his kitchen between him and a wall, and literally had nowhere to run.

He ‘accidentally’ had unprotected anal sex with his play partner. It wasn’t talked about. It’s not something they plan on happening again. He felt horrible for fucking up and he understood if this changed how I looked at him. He was so sorry.

What…

WHAT?

Just. Out of the blue. I didn’t know how to respond. I asked if I could start cooking. Cooking helps. Creating helps. It lets me process and think.

He had me hug him first and went out for a smoke. I cut up mushrooms and cried in the sink, then did my best to pretend I was okay when he walked back in. Ryan felt like crap already, I could see that. I didn’t want to make it worse.

Over and over, as the evening went on I chewed on the thought in my mind. How does one ACCIDENTALLY have unprotected anal sex? It’s not like it’s an easy slip of ‘oh you’re grinding, ooops it slipped in once’ like with vaginal. That.. requires prep. And lube. And toying. And plenty of time to stop and put on a damn fucking condom.

I didn’t have much of an appetite for dinner. I tried to joke and goof around and be normal. I accepted Ryan’s appologies and extra attention as he pet me, taught me simple rope tricks, gifted me with rope he wasn’t using… tried his best to make what he could up to me and show I mattered. All the while my brain kept fucking with me. ‘He could have stopped. He didn’t. He should have stopped. He didn’t. He just. Did it. He wants her so badly that he didn’t give a fuck and just…did it.’

By the time Ryan left for his meditation I was an even split of angry and wounded. There have been several times that I’ve tried dressing up and doing something special for a date with Ryan and… he just didn’t have the energy for play. And the more that happens the more the sexy times part of me hides, thinking it has to be me. I don’t have enough za za zoo to peaque his interest when he’s tired. With her, the za za zoo is so damn strong, the desire so damn strong, he threw logic out the window completely. He stopped giving a fuck and just wanted to fuck her. Insult was added to injury when I saw that there were her special condoms left in his apartment.. It’s not like it was bareback or nothing. It was a conscious choice.

I don’t have any say in who Ryan sees, nor would I really want to control my partner in that way. But I am allowed to feel what I feel. I actually trust her for the most part. She is sweet and has always been open and kind with me.

I don’t trust Ryan with her. I no longer trust him to think with more than his dick around her. There’s always been a chase element with her. When they started seeing one another she was owned and collared by someone else. The more Ryan got told ‘no’ the more he pushed back, the more he wanted. The idea of them having another overnight anytime soon makes me really, really uncomfortable. And I hate that.

I hate that, right now, I don’t fully trust him not to do it again.

I stewed. I cried. Ryan’s cat came up and snuggled me as I debated the idea of just leaving for the evening to lick my wounds in peace.

This wasn’t a situation that I was going to be able to fix overnight. I knew that. There was.. a lot of hurt, and quite a bit of betrayal the more I thought about it. I hurt, a dull ache in my chest I attempted to ignore, and I continued to mull over everything.

I wanted to feel wanted by Ryan… that would definitely ease some of the hurt. I wanted his hands on me. I wanted him biting me, and pulling my hair, and fucking me and filling me with cum and re-establising that link between he and I. I wanted him… As corny as it sounds, that desire became a bit of a balm on a lot of the hurt. Just show me that you still want me. That this slip didn’t happen because you want her so much more and I’m just the thing that’s… there, doing the dishes, cooking dinner, running errands and following rules..

When Ryan got home I let myself appreciate how handsome my partner is. I kissed him, and nuzzled, and bit, and crawled into his lap and turned my best sexy on.. and honestly it felt fantastic. Ryan hasn’t kissed me like he did tonight in.. a long time. It was an epic makeout session. I LOVE making out, and it’s something we almost never do anymore. He had my panties wet and my toes curling, and I tried to be as forward as I could manage.

“I want my Daddy. ”
“Please do bad things to me, Daddy.”

He tickled, touched, and kissed me. I slipped from his lap to the floor and he carved up my back and front with knives I had given him eons before. He called me a beautiful canvas, showed me the gorgeous marks now on my back, and I melted.

I tried to be forward again and pawed playfully at his pants, wanting to play with my lollipop.

“I don’t think I’m up for that type of play tonight, sweetie.”

Ow.

Immediate shrinking, recoiling, a fresh wave of pain and rejection. So you’ll fuck the pretty thing senseless without restrain but there’s no energy for me?

“May I explain why? Guilt. Shame.”

It didn’t make the hurt stop.. but I understood more. I said I wanted to do the things for the reconnection. I didn’t share how badly I wanted to feel wanted. That I wanted him face fucking me, and pulling my hair, leaving bite marks all over me and fucking me senseless before filling me with his cum. I had reached my limit on vulnerability. I couldn’t take another blow to the ego.

At the request for reconnection he smiled and grabbed me by the hair to lead me into the bedroom. I let out a breath I didn’t know I was holding as he pushed me onto the bed and wrapped his hand around my throat.

For a little while it was glorious. Rough grabs, pressure on my chest, pain and power and tickling and laughing. I waited for him to pull off his shirt, to crawl on top of me; for that pleasant, safe feeling of him surrounding me.

He tried to be very sweet. The touch changed to gentle, tantric tracing of my face and body. I wanted to scream. Any other day it wouldn’t have been beautiful.. but I NEEDED MY DADDY. I needed my Daddy to take what was his and make me feel wanted. He was trying to make me feel beautiful and spoiled…and sweet and gentle just started feeling like pity and guilt.. which then turned to shame on my end. My body language changed. I felt myself curling into a ball as Ryan continued to touch me. I knew he was trying to help, didn’t want him to feel bad. Knew that any other day his tender touches and attention would have me feeling like a goddess. That him saying he wanted it to be all about me would make me feel like his spoiled princess. But I could feel myself crashing horribly.

I ran out of the bedroom when given the chance to and grabbed the one thing that I thoght would keep me from crashing. Ryan’s kindle. He had read to me on a previous date, a fantasy novel that we are both reading, and I felt soothed and protected; like the best place in the world was in Daddy’s arms listening to his voice. It relaxed me almost instantly before, and I hoped it would at least calm me down for a little bit.

I curled up into his side with my favorite stuffie and slowly settled, lulled by the cadence of his voice. The sad was there, the rejection was still there, but the tears stopped. My breathing returned to normal, and for a couple chapters I relaxed in his arms.

We made a date for Tuesday and I left later than planned. He sent me a text on the way home thanking me for not running away. The only way out of pain is through it. To run away from pain is to run directly into it.

This. Hurts like a mother fucker. But Ryan is one of the sweetest, most loving souls that I’ve ever had in my life. He’s normally attentive, fiercely protective of me, and constantly sharing knowledge when he has it. I’m not going to bolt for something he admits to being a major fuckup. He knows it was wrong. He is remorseful.

But..it was a fuck up. And right now, everything hurts.

It will settle. We will talk more and it will get better. It was a mistake. and I know that.

I just wish I could stop crying.

yours, still alive

-Rene

 

Taking it, Blindfolded

Last Saturday was one of my favorite parties, Master’s Den. I was going with Ryan, and more than a little excited to get some serious 1 on 1 play time in before the holidays hit. He hasn’t been able to come to BaGG and I’ve been in serious need of owies… though I’ve needed more than that as well.

The night before, I decided to go check out Taboo. It’s a party at the Citadel known for edgier play; sacrilegious scenes, dark age play in public, blood and cutting play… It was one of my favorite parties when I first entered the scene but I had mostly stopped going because it’s not a party James has shot. But, I knew he was going to be there. A dear friend of ours had said they were coming and he was going to give them a massage, and honestly I wanted to watch.

Fast-forward through the evening and the friend ended up bailing. I poked James about playing, but he wasn’t exactly in an impact mood, and he and I both need to be in good headspaces to play in a healthy way together. Right now…impact is somewhat safe, but sensual play, intimate touching, things like that.. not good for either one of us. We are starting from the ground up kink wise and trying to do it right. I got into trouble elsewhere, a light impact scene that was essentially a warm up for the night to follow. A friend used my ass as a punching bag (quite literally.They practiced different style punches on me xD) giving me just enough thuddy impact to silence the worst of my brain squirrels. Brain squirrels silenced, I went to investigate and see what trouble James had gotten into.

He had his big knife out and was trailing it down a friend’s thigh, the one I’ve continued on a three year long love affair with. The knife, not the friend. The friend is a very safe human that I know well, and so watching the scene of the two of them didn’t bring up any negative emotions. They’ve played before, and I love to watch. I sat, eyes fixated on the blade as he trailed it up and down, forcing squeaks from the bottom as he guided them with eyes and hands, not saying a word.

I am a sensation slut. I’ve said this many times. I’ve also said that the cruelest thing someone I care about can do is withhold touch from me. I sat, mesmerized by the scene as James pulled out various blades, his punch dagger, his claws… all things that my body remembers so well. I shivered with each touch as if it were on my own skin. I wanted the cold steel on me. I LOVE sharps. And then James did a thing.

He flipped our friend over and grabbed them by the hair, slowly raising their head before slipping the blade underneath their chin and touching into to the soft flesh. I let out a sigh and noticed an ache in me that hasn’t been present for a while. My brain went back to a long time ago, when a rough voice used to growl in my ear, ‘you are MINE.” There was no hesitation in leaving marks or bruising me; in using me to pull others into the back room by slamming down onto me and making me scream, moan, and cry. There was and is a primal edge to the play with James. The way he pulls hair. The way he claws into skin. The pain of rough hands slamming into an ass. And I found myself not necessarily missing him, but missing THAT. That primal claiming and marking and wanting and… rawr. To the point where I had to step away from the scene and breathe for a few moments, the longing for that kind of primal possession was so strong.

It was a bitter sweet feeling, walking out of the citadel that night knowing that I may never get that feeling again. But at least I had once known it.

The next evening I was there with my Daddy. We got there late, which had me stressed, and so my need for a good beating was amped up even higher. I changed into an outfit made to die a glorious death; a beautiful piece of lingerie that Chris had gotten me during my birthday in Santa Cruz the year before. It had seen many parties, and sadly had many holes in it to prove it. I had asked Ryan ahead of time if it could die a glorious death and was thrilled by his enthusiastic yes.

When play time came he chose a spot all the way in the back. I would be facing the wall and therefore be less distracted than normal. Our scenes have become rather routine. I strip off all that isn’t going to die, he ties me to the cross, he beats the shit out of me and teases me. We go home. This scene..had mostly the same formula, but with some twists that I didn’t know I needed until I felt them.

I had expected to be pulled to the cross once I stripped. Daddy surprised me by grabbing me right away and beginning to tear apart my outfit several feet from the cross. After man handling me a little bit, forcing me to the floor with his boot on top of me. More please..yes… I like the idea of being conquered by Daddy. Putting up just enough of a fight that he uses force to pin me. And I love his boots. And I love that with the boots, and the man-handling, there were also giggles. There’s almost always laughter in our scenes, and I love that so much.

Once he got me upright again he sliced apart my pretty one piece and literally ripped apart my tights in a way that was so satisfying I wanted to purr. At one point as he shredded my clothes with both hands and pointy objects he stuck my own tights in my mouth as a gag; something that at one point would have been a hard limit for me. I was a brat and spit it out several times. But I did not red.

 He has new pretty knives for blade bondage…They are sharp, and shiny, and bite just enough when propped between my inner arms and ribs, blade pointed inward into my side. Ryan does this thing.. He will hit me hard, or do something particularly mean, and whisper in my ear right after. His voice sounds like its dripped in honey..it’s just a wee bit deeper and smoother, and it makes me squirmy as FUCK. As he secured the knives into my sides he did his honey whisper; “Don’t let them drop, kitten.” And the knives did not stop There.  No. That’s when it got interesting.

You can’t be afraid of what you can’t see. Daddy brought some very scary toys to use on me. And so he blindfolded me with my own outfit, using one of the bigger strips that remained as a blind fold to tie around my head. Suddenly I couldn’t see the toys, or the dungeon, or Daddy.. Everything was sensation.

When I say that I was chomping at the bit to play I mean I was squirming for so many sensations I couldn’t keep them all straight. What amazes me about Ryan and our play at times is that even before I vocalize a desire or a want it’s somehow happening. He’s picked up on it, or was following the same wave length.

Blindfolded, still not touching the cross, I felt blades against my skin, and a need was sated. I felt a hand in my hair, pulling, and another need was sated. And then I felt rope against my skin and I let out a breath I didn’t know I had been holding.

Ryan has tied me a handful of times, including our first date. He’s made rope feel safe for me when for a long time it felt claustrophobic. He’s even suspended me once and yes I would do it again.. I have begun to enjoy the feel of rope, especially when it’s tied around me but not restricting me, in a harnesses with these intricate knots. It makes me feel beautiful.

He didn’t tie me to the cross that night, as he has so many times before. He tied me and then wove the throwing knives through the knots, so that if I moved right the blades poked me. At least I think he did. At that point I couldn’t see a damn thing. I just felt. It was..perfect.

I am an exhibitionist little slut. I like to show off, and to be watched, but that is often a double-edged sword for me. I get easily distracted by what’s going on around me and who’s watching me, and if I’m making the right faces, the right sounds.. if I’m putting on the best show I can. The blindfold removed that distraction, and is honestly something I’d like to play with more. I was hyper focused on what I was feeling, where Ryan was, and not on the people and scenes around me. I felt everything MORE. On top of it I wasn’t able to watch which toys Ryan was picking up. It took away any fear aspect I have associated with some of them..and there are quite a few of his toys that I am actually, actively afraid of.

The evening before, before the play and before watching James, I had watched a brutal impact scene. The Dom went hard on their submissive, to the point of legs buckling and screams filling the dungeon. As the submissive became overwhelmed, the Dominant would grab their face and touch a point between their eyes and their eyes would close. A dreamy smile would replace the pained face. Erotic hypnotism is something that Ryan and I play with a lot, and something that I thoroughly enjoy, and I noticed the button easily. Every time the submissive became overwhelmed by sensation or wasn’t able to take anymore the Dominant would put her into trance again, calming them down.The Dom would also snap their fingers and their bottom would flinch, signaling another button.

We’ve woven my buttons into play before. I have..a lot.. The two easiest that are typically Ryan’s go-to’s are when he snaps his right hand I have an anal orgasm. When he snaps his left, I have a vaginal orgasm. So, he’ll be a big meanie and give me a huge amount of pain and then snap his fingers and make me cum apart at the seams (pun intended). We’ve also played with me entranced before which is.. an odd, heady feeling. I’m awake but I’m not. I know what’s going on but can’t quite stop anything. We’ve also put buttons in place right before scenes too, to up my pain tolerance or make my body more relaxed upon impact (I tend to go up on my toes if something REALLY hurts).

Ryan managed to take what I shared with him about the scene I had enjoyed so much and make it work for us. There are a few of his toys that are hard for me to take a lot of. After a few whacks, even if I can’t see it, I’m dancing, I’m on tip toe, I’m screaming. Each time the pain became too much I would feel arms around me, or feel his scruff near my face before the honey voice would whisper in my ear that I could take more for Daddy, couldn’t I? That this was nothing and I’ve taken much worse. That I could take all the pain for Daddy.. And I was lulled just enough to think that I could. To feel that I could.

I faced a metal cane (a thick rod that I DESPISE), a dragon tongue (soft limit), an evil asshole paddle made out of a beer mat by an evil asshole (that I adore), and a curry comb as a finale. The curry comb was the only part that I actually got to see. Daddy slipped my blindfold off after the dragon tongue left pretty welts on my ass.

I have a history with dragon tongues. I…despise them. A single tail one can gain my trust with in time. Canes are the same way. A dragon tongue cut me up so bad at one point I had to go the ER. I never wanted to face one of those things again. Ryan seems bound and determined to have me face and take every toy I’m scared of. He started slow with it, whacking me when I was partially clothed to lessen the sting. Blindfolded and bare, there was no way of knowing when the dragon tongue was going to hit and where. He could have ripped me up easily. He could have harmed me. He didn’t. And I stood there, clinging to the cross for dear life, because I knew he wouldn’t. I trust Ryan.

You would think the perfect ending to all of this would be me facing my big fear and then Daddy taking me home to cuddle..but I did say that I got beaten with a curry comb, didn’t I? Those round metal brushes used on horses, with the mean teeth? yeah. That thing. On my ass. Our play with it has changed the more times that we’ve used it. The first time was rather timid, with Daddy using a paddle to leave imprints of the teeth in my ass and barely cutting the skin. Tap, tap, tap. That tap, tap went away a long time ago. Now he used pure force, swinging the curry comb itself and slamming it into my ass, leaving dozens of bloody circles in his wake.

I could see the windups to each one, but there’s no hesitation with the curry comb like there is for the dragon tongue or the canes. I love marks. I love sharps. The curry comb is a way for me to get both without being overwhelmed but that one sensation point where the knife blade meets my skin. This is dozens of little knife blades taking delicious bites out of me and leaving marks in a way that is much easier for my body than a basic impact beating.

I felt liquid sliding down my ass and grinned, proud of myself. There’s an odd turn on for me when Daddy makes me bleed. I earned it. And I don’t yellow when I feel the blood trickling down my legs. I wait for Daddy to wear himself out. He’s good at letting me know when the end is close and I can finally fully relax. The warning is usually, “Alright princess, I’m going to give you two more hard ones, one on each side, and then we’ll be all done, okay?” And I take them knowing that I get to rest after.

There were blood spots on the floor of the cross by the time we were done, as well as blood still trickling down my legs. We were safe, of course, spraying everything down properly with cavicide and alcohol respectively (my poor ass…oww.) before flopping over together in an aftercare couch.

We played again when we got home, my ass still sore, my body tired, when I thought we were going to just curl up and sleep. I remember bits and pieces of the sexual play.. I remember lots of orgasms, the honey coated voice, and I remember Daddy putting me into trance, but while he normally helps me out of it at the end of the scene this time he didn’t.. Even clean up was done in trance as I crawled into bed with him and snuggled into the nook of his shoulder. I don’t remember falling asleep. I do remember getting an incredibly good nights sleep as a result..

It was.. a lot in one night, and the ‘a lot’ was exactly what I needed. I’m breathing for now. I don’t feel like I’m starving, even knowing I’ve got about a week until any sort of real play.  And I feel incredibly guilty for wanting more. More rope. More impact, more boots and body play, more hair pulling and more of that honey coated sadist asking me to take all the pain for him. Cause, gods, will I. Happily, and eagerly.

The catharsis of an impact scene is incredible. The za za zooo it can spark or re-spark between two partners is also fantastic as well. But..getting to please my Daddy in a way that only my body can, taking the pain he asks me to take, doing it to make both of us smile? Yeah…that’s the main pleasure button for me.

Please, more, Daddy..

yours, as always

-Rene

Three Necessary Pieces

I was having a rough time of it last Wednesday, so much so that I decided that going to BaGG that evening would be too much for my fatigued body.

I was hitting drop from all angles and just needed to go home. At that moment in time, however, I couldn’t. I didn’t have my wallet. Foolish me had forgotten it in a jacket pocket back at the apartment and I was waiting on my roommate to bring it when she came to BaGG. On top of that, I hadn’t gotten to duel with James yet.

He rolled in when I was lost in melancholy thoughts and pulled me out of them, slamming me with a new brutal deck that I both hated and loved at the same time. There was no way that he didn’t see how eager I was; that he missed my eagerness when I begged for a duel. It remains our play; as safe as it can be nowadays. We are incomplete, he and I. The story isn’t finished, and forcing chapters to completion hasn’t helped. Because of this, we’ve mostly just left it be. I push back when I need to. Like with Surrender; I begged for photos of my partners and I and pressed how important it was that they get captured (an entry for Surrender shall follow later). And he did as I asked, often taking shots when I was too far gone to notice where the camera flash was coming from; piqued in an intense orgasms or being shocked by a violet wand. He’s good like that; capturing those unfathomable moments, but I digress.

I’ve been through four Surrenders and seven cons total; con-drop is not new to me. I knew to pace myself, to give myself Monday off from work, to sleep in and self-care. What I hadn’t expected was the whole separate drop when Ace left.

At the very beginning of our dueling a dear friend, Sage, joined us in our little corner of Wicked Grounds. She passively worked while commenting on our game from time to time, chuckling when James made me curse or when I begged for mercy. When his alarm went off to go over to the club James pulled me into one of his REAL hugs and humored me; he let me bury my face in his hair, relax in his arms for the briefest of moments and let the tension leave my body. There is still something about James’s scent that drives me bat shit; I’ve never been able to figure it out and I’ve never been able to shake it, but in moments when I am at my limit I am grateful for that fact. I’m grateful for the knowledge that a hug and a moment of touch from James is usually enough to calm me down.

Sage remained behind after James rolled off to the club, worried eyes on me. She asked what was wrong and I explained that I was just feeling… off. That I was tired and feeling at my emotional limit and just wanted to go home. A call to my roommate had informed me that she was still 40 minutes out and I was done, so very done. And frustrated without enough gas to get me back.

“And it’s been..how long since Ace left? 24 hours?” They had met at the con when Ace was on security duty and I was curled up at his feet. She had seen him throughout Surrender and began singing his praises when I told her it was his first con, ever.

The truth is, Ace had blown me away that weekend. I hadn’t expected him to take to Surrender like a duck to water, and he had. He made new friends with ease and giggled each time he mentioned my name to find that these new friends knew me already. He excitedly gobbled up information from classes, learning for himself, for me, and for my dear meta (his nesting partner) back home. He even got in a little pick up play and was a good, brave boy and bottomed to me. He paced himself well, ate when he needed to, and blended into my crowd as if he had always been there. And it had felt like he had. My Ace, my constant anchor, navigated my world with shocking ease that there was so much reluctance to give him back. I knew I had to, and know that I always will, but it was not easy.

Ryan, on the other hand, struggled more. He attempted to make new connections but I saw him drifting back to knowns. He circled back to me whenever I was working and spent more time messaging me on shifts than socializing with new people. Another bottom he plays with was also at the event, but with restrictions that prevented him from playing. He kept me going and pleased me to the best of his ability, but having never been through a con didn’t know how to pace himself. He was burnt out by early Sunday evening, unable to do the final scene that he and I had talked about. And yet still, even while he was burning out completely, he took me to the hotel restaurant to make sure I was fed and not crashing with five more hours left that evening.

And then there’s James.. Balancing Ryan and Ace, while also remembering what Surrender was, what it meant to James and I, was hard. There was an ache there when it reached late into Saturday and I hadn’t quite connected with James yet… It’s hard, with Ryan around. The two butt heads at an almost toxic level at this point and don’t particularly social well with one another anymore. When Ryan left early on Sunday it was.. a slight relief. I drifted upstairs to a cigars and chocolates social and found James playing with the cigar cutters up there. We talked, joked, even flirted a little, and I made a point in saying that I would be there till the end and I wanted to say goodbye (the year before I hadn’t had the chance to because of my security shift and it..bothered me a great deal). We talked, shared stories, smiled…and I felt better.

I relayed all this to Sage when she asked about my Surrender, and she smiled as I voiced my frustrations over James and Ryan. “You know why they fight, don’t you?”

“Because they’re two Dominant assholes in a pissing contest?”

“Well, yes. But there’s more to it than that.” She paused. “Who has your collar?”

“But that doesn’t matter! The collar is null-en-void. It’s been discussed that if we restart we restart fresh and-”

“And you’re right. It doesn’t matter.. The restart, that is.” She smiled, sadly. “You love each other. It’s very apparent, even in small things. That love is very there, and very apparent to anyone with eyes. It’s only a little threatening to someone who wants to be important in your life, especially when you love the other person more.”

I sat, gobsmacked for a moment. I had been wrestling in my own head for months with my feelings for Ryan and James, trying to tell myself that those with Ryan were growing while those with James were fading.

“You two aren’t done, you and James. You aren’t in your final form yet. Right now, what you two are in is limbo, and it’s driving Ryan crazy. You two are either going to grow closer together or further apart, but until then the two are going to fight over you like open game because they both see you as their’s. Whether or not a certain red head admits it.” She smirked. “You are still his, Rene, and that’s okay. You’ve learned to live with that in a way that is much more healthy for both of you, but it’s a different type of love than what you have for Ryan.”

“And I do love both of them! I love Ryan very much!” And it’s true, I do, with a depth of feeling I didn’t think myself capable of.

“Oh, sweetie, I know you do. It’s just different.” And then my wise friend told me about three crucial love figures in ones life, and about how I was blessed to have all of them, whether or not they worked out.

There’s the one you learn from, the one love stories come from, and the one that stays.

Ryan is the one I learn from. Since being with him I have truly learned what self-care is, and how to better take care of myself and set my own limits. I eat better, sleep better, and I honestly relish being Daddy’s little girl. I feel taken care of, loved, cherished…but not claimed. It’s a soft love, a nurturing love. I enjoy doing his dishes, helping to tidy around the house, and yes, I enjoy the fantastic sex.. but even our rough is not too rough. There is a softness and a sweetness to Ryan that I cherish; a rarity that  you don’t often find in tops. There is also sometimes a cockiness about him in that Father Knows Best sort of way that often rubs me the wrong way.

“I had a Ryan for YEARS”, Sage shared with me. “He taught me so much about myself; how to live, how to be, how to help me be more me. I’m incredibly grateful for the time we had together, but it’s not the kind of mind blowing, bone-deep soul connection love I had with my James.” She locked eyes with me. “And you know exactly what I mean by that.”

She’s right. I do. James is the one my love stories come from. It is a bone-deep love that I can’t shake, no matter how I try. It’s why his scent gets to me, why I’m hyper sensitive to him being in a room. Why my loyalty to him just..doesn’t sway, doesn’t go away. Because those moments of sweetness exceed any others even as the sour moments destroy unlike anything else. He has the power to rip me in two; he always has. He almost did once. There remains this pull between us; this interaction that goes passed friends but doesn’t know where to extend beyond that. I can see why that’s a threat to Ryan; because if that gets re-established, then he gets bumped from spot one, and he knows that. Then James gets all the power again, and Ryan doesn’t want that. Right now, I don’t want that, but I miss sweet kisses and brutal hands.

“And then there’s your sweet boy”, Sage said, smiling wistfully, “the rarity we all search for. A gods honest everlasting love.”  The one that stays.

My Ace, my beautiful rarity. Without him, loving the other two would be impossible. He has been my anchor, platonicly and otherwise, for a decade now. When my engagement ended he was a text away. When my first boyfriend broke my heart I could call him. We Skyped to make each other laugh through the tears when his wife and him had a fight or I broke up with yet another partner. He’s always been there, the carrot dangling in front of my face just out of reach. While I may not be able to share a bed with him every night, and while our lives are in many ways very separate..they have always included the other. Even when we weren’t actively engaging with the other. When we lost contact I thought about him, and he about me, and we both knew that eventually one would reach out to the other and all would be right with the world again.

And so it was. And so it always will be.

If I didn’t have my Ace, I would not survive Ryan and James; the ebb and flow, up and down intensities of love. My good, sweet, mellow boy that takes to my world like a duck to water… because he’s always been there, and was always supposed to be there.

“You have what so many of us search for, especially those of us that are poly. You have managed to find an actual love of your life, and hold on to one another for all of this time.” She got tears in her eyes as she said this, and I smiled. “Is it any wonder that you’re dropping, honey, with all these moving parts in your life?”

No, it was no wonder..and after the talk with Sage so much more made sense. There is a lingering of guilt there, for James being the one I write love stories about…but I can’t change my nature, and what I am instinctively drawn to is..him. The edge of him, the gruffness, the growl with a hint of sweetness… What I knowingly go to are soft, kind hands that hold and caress and teach. What I’ve always known, always wanted, and will always gravitate to is an open heart that constantly wishes to learn more, see more, do more, and sees all of it eagerly and wide-eyed with an innocence I don’t think I’ve ever possessed and a nature that is truly… good. No ego. Just good.

Willow gave me gas money to get home when I collapsed in the chair across from her, more emotionally exhausted than I was at the start of all of this. “Go home. Rest. And smile.” She grinned. “It could be worse. Your soul mates could be boring, complacent partners instead of the pains in the ass they are. Now where would the fun be in that?”

Where would the fun be, indeed?

Yours, piece by piece

-Rene

My Big, Fat, Poly, Kinky Life

So, one of the reasons I’ve been trying so hard to catch up on all these entries the last couple of days is because the next couple weeks are going to be…interesting.

Or rather, the next couple weekends.

I have an amazing, sweet, spitfire of a metamour through Ryan that is one of his long distance partners. She’s going to be in town starting tonight, and tomorrow her, Ryan, and I are going up to a pagan camp ground for the weekend to celebrate Samhain. This is one trip where I can’t possibly begin to have any expectations about how it’s going to go or what will play out..and I’m excited about the prospect of that.

There are some worries, little brain squirrels I’m trying to quell. I’ve never been in a situation where it’s been such an extended amount of time of sharing a partner. We will be together for three days. That’s three days where I get my Daddy but I don’t. And I honestly requested that. When Ryan invited me on the trip I said I would go on the condition that my time and hers were equal, that the attention was equal..meaning me coming didn’t take away from the attention he would give her. I adore them together. I think she’s absolutely fantastic for him, and brings out some of his best nature whenever they’re together. But, I am human. I do get jealous.

The jealousy… doesn’t manifest in the ways you would expect. I’m not jealous she’s with him.. Not at all. I feel quite a lot of compersion when I think of the two of them. The jealousy is more in that so often when I look at her I see so much of what I lack. Shes in better shape than I am. Her life is much more put together and stable. She’s a better communicator, while I still get stuck when I’m upset or something is wrong.

But..I also know that, for some reason, she tends to do the same thing with me and can have a similar type of jealousy at times. There are many reasons we get along well.

I know that Ryan would hang the moon for her. But I also know that he would shoot up a couple of stars for me. There is.. a nice balance. But it’s still uncharted territory, so much so that her and I each have safewords to use if something isn’t right and we need to talk to Ryan in private, nicknames that we normally wouldn’t use with him to get his attention. Mine is puddin’, as in Harley Quinn in the Joker.. After all, I am Daddy’s little monster and it doesn’t get much more unhealthy than the two of them.

There has been a LOT of preparation for this trip. I expected most of it. Food prep, camping supply prep. Things like that. I didn’t expect the emotional prep, and the amount of care and consideration that Ryan would put in to making sure I was alright and that we got our time together. Tuesday was, of course, Halloween. It was also our last chance to have a private date for about two weeks. It’s not that I’m not going to see him. I’m actually going to spend quite a lot of time with my Daddy in the next couple of weeks.. it’s that I will be sharing him or he will be sharing me for all of it.

Ryan has been teaching me slowly not to have expectations. To go with the flow. To be in the moment. And so, when I requested to spend Halloween with him I didn’t expect a yes or a no. We have a packed weekend, and I would understand if he said no, he needed the night to himself. I will be clinging to Monday night for all it’s worth as my one night of recovery before poly insanity part two begins.. but more on that in a bit. He didn’t say no.. At the end of our date on Sunday he asked me to come over on Tuesday evening.

Halloween is one of my favorite days of the year, and I have my traditions. I eat pizza. I watch Nightmare before Christmas. I requested both these things of Ryan.. He got free tasty Tibetan curry from work that would have been enough to feed us. He still ordered us pizza. I didn’t find out until halfway through the movie that he’s not a huge fan of Nightmare (it’s fairly pervasive throughout the kink community as a staple..my fault for assuming). He put it on to make me happy… and was happy making me happy and cuddling with me. And I have to admit, I was utterly content curled up in my Daddy’s arms, wearing a bat onesie that he got for me (I’m his little fruit bat ^.^) watching one of my favorite movies and sharing a couple small traditions with him.. but that’s not where the prep and care ended.

Wednesday is always a long day for Ryan. He works in the city, drives home, changes, and comes back out for BaGG. Some nights we play. Others, we just socialize with friends. I expected last night to be a socialize night because we were both tired and had just spent time together the night before even though we didn’t play.. I was very, very wrong. Daddy got a new bat. He was very excited to try the new bat. On my ass. For the record, oww.

I didn’t know I needed the owies until they started… didn’t know I needed that connection, that reassurance from him with my pretty, amazing meta coming the next day. I love playing with Ryan.. The level of connection he maintains is unlike anything I’ve felt with others, even James. He knows just the right moments to touch and check in, when I need a push, a “You can take more for Daddy, can’t you kitten?”. I didn’t know that I needed, “Who’s Daddy’s good girl?” I did. The pretty meta is coming. Ryan will be sharing time with both of us. She is his pretty, amazing, creative, spitfire partner. I’m Daddy’s good girl, Daddy’s kitten, Daddy’s poppet and lil love.. They are both important. My Daddy is very good at figuring out what I need long before I know how to vocalize it..

Can you see why I have little hesitations about this trip?

But wait, there’s more!! Oh yes, this is but episode one of my big, fat, poly, kinky life. We get back from the camping trip on Sunday. On Tuesday, I am given a tremendous gift. My darling Ace is coming to visit me for an entire WEEK. After a decade of knowing one another and only 24 precious hours in person together.. My brain can not fully wrap itself around the concept of it yet.

He will be coming with me to BaGG the next night.. It will be his birthday BaGG. He..hehehehe… It will also mean sharing BaGG with him, and him and Daddy spending time together..something that has me THRILLED. And him and James spending time together..something that..has me more hesitant. James does not seem to react to me having partners well..but that’s its own separate blog entry.. For now..focusing on my Ace.

I get him for BaGG, a night of just us, and then that Friday begins Surrender. Me, Ryan, and Ace will all be in a hotel room together, along with one of my kinky sisters and her partner. To say I am excited and nervous… I can’t even tell you. There are visions of threesomes and double topping and passing off and…all the yummy dancing in my head. I am nervous to see how my brain handles splitting time with the two of them, and with the very different dynamics that I have with each man.

Top it all off with Surrender being the anniversary of the first time James and I played, and James being responsible for my pictures there…yeah..there are nerves. There are many nerves. I am curious to see how Ace reacts to my little self, a side of me he’s never seen. I am curious also to see how Ryan reacts to my toppy side controlling Ace, and then the fluidity of Ace topping me.

To add to the insanity, these two men that I love so much that will get to share space with one another have birthdays about two weeks apart. I have plans for both of them.. Ryan knows some of his. Ace has no idea. I get my Ace through until the following Tuesday, and that Monday after Surrender will be a day for him. I’ve taken off, and I plan on showing him my home and spoiling him after he is done spoiling me at Surrender.

It is a lot, me sharing Ryan and then Ryan sharing me back to back..but I have faith in us, as I have faith in my meta and my Ace. I plan on bringing a journal along to each event and writing at least once during each of the days. These entries will be turned into blog posts after. Another new thing, another experiment.. I am hopeful that it will work out.

The cherry on top of all of this is the moment of re-connection and calm. The day after Ace goes back to his nesting partner and his life in NC is Ryan’s birthday BaGG. So, after the camping, the cons, the sharing and the excitement, I get to crawl on a spanking bench in front of my community and take spankings for my Daddy’s birthday. The timing could not be better. 

See you on the others side of all this insanity, readers.

Yours, until then

-Rene

BDSM and Sex

I’ve seen a couple Dominants write about this topic, but rarely is it discussed from a submissive’s point of view.

Sex and BDSM are two things that are often closely linked together, and it’s little wonder as to why. We, especially submissives, tend to dress up in revealing clothing (or no clothing at all). We are seen as sexy, sensual creatures. BDSM is still seen as a rather taboo thing, and taboos in and of themselves tend to have an erotic twist to them.

But the reality is, there is so much more to BDSM and kink than sex, and often sex can manage to not play a part in the equation at all.

I am a rather sexual being. I have been since my early teens. I once explained to a partner that I will very rarely say no to sex when a partner is interested, even if I’m exhausted or low on spoons or some such thing. However, it’s hardly something that is required for me to be in a relationship with someone.

A main dynamic in all of my relationships is some sort of power exchange. For some, like my relationship with my Ace, that exchange is incredibly fluid. In the span of five minutes I can go from calling him sir to him calling me ma’am…and that’s just how we work.. For others, like Ryan and Chris, they are always my Daddy and my Sir. I willingly always hand over a certain degree of power to them, in different ways, and it pleases both the top to receive the power and the bottom to give it, immensely.

Chris and I haven’t had a sexual relationship for over a year now. We started out VERY sexual (honestly, I can understand the appeal of wanting to fuck like rabbits with someone half your age :P) and there was a time when it was a rocky transition between our sexual relationship and just having a D/s relationship. It’s not to say that I didn’t miss all the fucking..I mean..for the love of godde he managed to fuck through a condom at one point he was pounding me so hard..and that was wonderful. But there are other things that can be even more wonderful than that

The power exchange was still there..it was just that when we played we didn’t fuck after. If anything, the lack of sex meant that intensity was redirected elsewhere. I was even more devoted when we were in scene, even more willing to take pain for him, to learn new tricks and positions to please him. Our dynamic has still mange to keep its edge after two years, it’s just that the edge has changed. There are times when I ask for reassurances that he’s still attracted to me, and he is quick good at communicating that with kisses, and ‘sexy angels’ and a hand on my ass at times. There is still spice, still za za zoo, and yes, it can still be VERY sexy.

I didn’t honestly know how sex with Ryan was going to work the further down the DDlg rabbit hole we went.. if we were going to engage in dark age play or not. I didn’t know, personally, if I would be comfortable letting my Daddy ‘violate my princess parts’ when I’ve mentally regressed to a two year old..

Yes, we go there. And yes, it is naughty as fuck and we love every second of it. But what gets me wet starts far before fucking.

Saturday, Ryan and I went to Flash at the Citadel. I dressed up as his little fruit bat for the Halloween party; made pretty wings and all and wore a onesie for a bit that he had gotten for me that was a bat with wings and all (IT’S SO FLUFFY). After a bit of socializing and a wee bite of food he led me to a cross, stripped me out of what was not safe to cut off, and tied me to the damn thing so I couldn’t run away.

It was NOT an easy scene. We played for over an hour, staring with knife play slicing off my body stocking and ending with a curry comb slicing open my ass and leaving beautiful marks and drips of blood in its wake. In between there was a metal cane that I have a love/hate relationship with, wooden canes that make me yelp, a meanie stick that terrifies me, and a foam bat that makes fantastic sounds when slammed against my ass. And of course, Daddy’s hands.

But, as much as the pain and adrenaline that follow are wonderful at times, those were not what kept me up on that cross for an hour. What kept me up there were the moments when Daddy would put down the mean, wrap an arm around my chest or a hand around my throat, and growl in my ear,

“You can take it for Daddy? Can’t you?”

“Are you still with me, kitten? Can  you take more for Daddy?”

“You are doing sooo well, lil love. I’m so proud of you. I’d like to do a little more. Can you do that?”

Always that asking. THAT is what sates me. That is what keeps me going.

Can you do this for me, little one? Can you take this, not for you, but because it pleases me to do this to you? Can you serve me in this way?

Absolutely, yes.

And taking what is given to me, what my partner asks of me to take, will nine times out of ten be even more satiating to me than a good fucking, as was the case on Saturday night.

Aftercare was very much needed after our scene. Normally I bounce back pretty quickly. Within 10-20 minutes I may still be cuddly, but I’ll be chatty and smiling and goofing around. I was so sated, so sore in the best of ways, that I just wanted to cuddle and sleep. My ass was so raw I had to wear panties to protect the couches from my blood (…mmm….more please, Daddy), and the best feeling in the WORLD after such a hard and long beating was curling up in Daddy’s arms and letting my eyes fall closed, knowing he would wake me if he needed me. Knowing I was safe. I didn’t want more. I didn’t want to rile energy to climb on top and fuck him (even though it’s the citadel..that kind of thing is allowed, and sometimes encouraged). I just waned cuddles and kisses and a safe place to rest.

BDSM is so much more than sex. It’s trust, and constant learning, and knowing how much power to give to who and where to draw your lines. It’s understanding whose arms you truly feel safe sleeping in, and letting yourself go there when the time is right. It’s pushing your own personal limits in healthy ways, communication, thrills adrenaline, mind fucks. And yes. Sometimes sex.

But. Why would you want to focus on sex..where there is so much more?

Yours, ever exploring.

-Rene

Adrift

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.

Yours, restless

-Rene