New Hard Limit

Good afternoon, Sir!

I was browsing some of your messages, and discovered a new hard limit for me.

People who are actively not feminists.

I've noticed a couple times that you've messaged women who state in their profile that they think men are superior to women, or that all women want to serve, or some other such bullshit. I won't tell you what to do with them, Sir. But I will never fuck them. It's not going to happen. It's officially a hard limit. I don't want to be in the same room as them. I don't want to hear about them. Nope, nope, nope.

It's ignorant crap to think that your experience is the same as half of the earth's population. It's heterosexist, sexist, specific culture-centric, egotistical crap. I will have none of it. So the 1950's thing if you want, because you want. Not because your biology is forcing you into one decade of one culture's romanticized roles. Crap, Crap, Crap.

I do love you, Sir. I'm not judging you for wanting to talk to these women, or even wanting to fuck them. But I need them to stay the hell out of my life, and I hope you can respect that.

Home

Good evening, Sir.

Today's post isn't really about us, Sir. It's mostly about me. But it might be helpful for you to know. And it's definitely helpful for me to write about it.

Today I realized what I've been grieving for. I've been dealing with some memories and unresolved shit from leaving my ex a year ago. I decided to revisit the city I lived in for 5 years with him. As I was driving,  getting closer to where I used to call home, I had an urge to listen to Edward Sharpe and the Magnetic Zeros. That was the last thing he and I got excited about together. We never really had a song, but the closest thing was their song Home.

"Home, let me go home
Home is wherever I'm with you"

I miss having a home. A place that's mine. I've spent the last year living in other people's homes, comfortable, happy, sage. But not mine. Even now, my home doesn't feel like mine. I just rent a room in it. I miss feeling the security, the sense of ownership.

It extends beyond a physical home, too. I miss feeling that home feeling with someone. I'm realizing how much fear still controls my choices. I do enjoy what I'm learning from poly, about myself, about other people. But I'm also aware that I chose poly out of a reluctance to commit too much of myself to any one person. I've moved away from that motivation somewhat. But it's still there.

Please know I'm very much speaking out of emotions right now. These next couple of weeks may be difficult for me. I'm not looking to change any decisions. Just feeling things, Sir. I love you so very much, Sir.

Green Monster

Good morning, Sir!

You told me this morning that A had contacted you again. You wanted to know what I was thinking. Here it is.

I started by looking over the conversations I had had with A prior to and just after introducing her to you. I realized that, while she is a pleasant person to talk to, the biggest attraction for me was that she was interested in me, or so it seemed at the time. I no longer think she's interested in me, and I'm not particularly interested in her as an individual. If it was just me, I wouldn't care much one way or the other about meeting her.

The reason A's interest in me was so attractive is that at the time I was talking to her, I was very much wanting to exploring my Domme side. In retrospect, alot of that was due to feeling like I had to prove I was a switch. Not so much to other people, but to myself. I felt a stigma, a fear attached to just being submissive. I'm no longer in that mindset. I still would like to explore domination, but I'm content for now to focus on my submission, which is complicated enough, and wait for someone who I really like to dominate. Like maybe R, if she ever comes to Boston. Or S. Or pup, with you. But I'm not looking to dominate just to dominate. And that's what it would be with A, at least with the way things are now. So again, I don't care much about meeting her, one way or the other.

At the end of the day, I'm not particularly interested in A. And I'm not really feeling the need to dominate A just to say I tried it. I'm open to it, but meeting A wouldn't be for A's sake, and it wouldn't be for mine. I'd do it for yours, Sir, if that's what you want. Just say the word. But if I chose to go with you, it would be a decision for fear's sake. And I don't want to make my decisions out of jealousy and insecurity and pettiness and fear.  Not anymore.

So it's up to you, Sir. I'm submitting this to you. I'm going to (try to) trust that you'll make the best decision for yourself, and for me. It's not going to be easy, Sir. It may hurt. I might cry. I'll probably need some aftercare. But I'll be ok.

If you choose to meet her alone, I'd like to talk again about our guidelines for casual play. If you want to see her again, I may want to meet her eventually. I'm open to playing with her together, as either your sub or your mentee. But I'm not interested in having her as my slave. And you might be. So I'll step back. I'll kneel and I'll let myself feel the pain, knowing it's only for a moment, knowing you'll never intentionally damage me, knowing you love me for myself, not for anything that anyone can do better.

I love you, Sir. So very much.

Control Freak

Good afternoon, Sir.

This week, I've been re-remembering how much of a control freak I can be. I'm coming up on a year since I left my ex. I'm not usually big on anniversaries, but sometimes they just imprint on your psyche. Memories have just been popping up this week, good and bad. Both make me cry. I'm ok. But this is a milestone. And I'm feeling it.

I've told you alot about what happened. What you may have figured out by now is how it changed me. A few months ago when I was brand new to BDSM, I had limits in place, like no knives, that were a direct result of this. Those aren't hard limits for me anymore. At least not with you. I trust you enough to make almost no legal actions really off limits. Except poop stuff. That's yucky. Don't do that.

The thing I'm realizing is how I play these little games with you, to try to feel more in control. Like last night, you pulled my head down on you, and I made some excuse about my cough. It didn't aggravate my cough. I even kinda liked it. But I asked you not to, knowing you'd show your love by honoring my request. Something immediately felt wrong. And I think it's because I made that request not for my physical comfort, but my emotional comfort. I needed the reassurance that I was still in control.

I wish I could simply submit to you. I wish any of this was simple. But I'm complicated. I can be alot to deal with, I know. I'm working on giving you more, trusting you more. But it's really hard for me. I'm sorry for when my issues get in the way of your happiness. And I'm so grateful for your love and patience.

I love you, Sir.

Curious

Good morning, Sir.

I'm finding myself in a small dilemma. I want to explore and experiment. But I don't want to "top from the bottom". I like some things we've done, and want to do them again. I'd also like to try new stuff. But I don't really know how to ask, without seeming pushy. I want to make sure you do what you want to.

So here's a list of things I like and things I'm curious about. I like/love spanking (more than once a week?), electric play, bondage (maybe giving tasks while tied up?), biting (you used to bite my arm during sex. I miss that), tickling, butt plugs, face slapping, nipple clamps, clothespins, hitting my breasts, ice cubes, choking or smothering. I want to talk a little about my limits and concerns, but I'm gonna make that its own entry, I think. Basically, other than scat and anything illegal, I'm open to it, as long as it's with you and we talk about it.

I love you, Sir.

Actions, Identity, and Worth

Good morning, Sir.

I had a realization yesterday, and I wanted to write about it in the hopes that it will help you understand me a little better, and that it will help me remember it.

Service is action. It is not who I am. It does not define my worth.

I wrote once before about how I'm trying to serve for you, not for myself. This is what it boils down to. When in serving you for myself, I'm trying to increase my worth. I'm trying to be better. But you've made it clear over and over. You don't love me for what I do, but for who I am. Service is what I do to show you I love you. It is not my love. It is not me.

I'm going to try to remember this. It's difficult. This warped way of thinking has been a part of my life since I was a little kid. But I'm learning.

I love you, Sir.

Trust and Control

Good morning, Sir.

I wanted to write a little about trust and control. I'm a worst case scenario person. I don't mean to be. I just am. When I'm in a situation, I plan what I'd do if there was an emergency. Even as you were tying me, I wondered what you'd do if there was, say, a fire. How would you react? How would you keep me safe? In the back of my mind, there's always a plan. When I can't help myself, I'm counting on you. Especially when I can't help myself because if something you've done, like tie my hands behind my back.

I know it's silly, but I felt like you got flustered by everything, the people coming to see the apartment, the pizza guy. And it made me feel like maybe you wouldn't be able to take care of me if there was an emergency. I know, it was a pizza. But anger usually masks something else. For me, it's often fear. I get scared when I can't protect myself. I count on you. I trust you, Sir. But I also know you're a human, you can't handle everything (but I can, apparently. My brain is weird). I'm working on it.

I love you, Sir.

S & M

Good afternoon, Sir.

I was bored recently and decided to browse around fetlife (sapiosexy17). I was looking through some pics today and realized I was getting very turned on by pictures of a very bruised body. I continued to look through things and am realizing I may actually be more of a masochist than I realized. It's funny, cuz I'm actually kinda wimpy. I don't have a high tolerance for passion and discomfort, and I'm queasy with blood. But I think I want to explore that side some more.

I've really enjoyed being soaked to the point of tears. I don't bruise much, but I do love the release of emotion. I also love clothespins whenever you use them on me. I don't usually use the toys on my own, but I must admit to snagging some clothespins once or twice when you're working nights. Last night I put them in a row across my breasts, down my upper, inner arms, and one on my tongue. Putting them on my labia gets me instantly wet. I kept reading all these creative torture methods and maybe it was the fact that I hadn't had sex in so long (48 hours, hehe) but I got so turned on! So maybe we can try some stuff, if you want.

I love you, Sir.

Fantasy

Good evening, Sir.

Apparently this time away from you had given me lots of time to think. I realized something today, Sir. One of the biggest struggles with jealousy for new is the feeling that I'm no longer a part of your fantasy. When we first started together, it was electric. We couldn't stop thinking about each other. I understand that's not always sustainable, and that you've had alot to deal with. I've tried not to ask for too much, because I know you've only got so much to give. But the truth is, I want to try new things with you and have you push me not only so I can learn and grow, but because I want you too fantasize about using me like you used to. Maybe that's not possible. Or maybe you still do, and I just keep coming on in the last 15 minutes. But I miss it.

And it's so hard for me to know you're fantasizing about someone else the way you did about me. I'm not asking to be every fantasy. I'm just missing the spark, the thrill of trying something new, the excitement. When I first started submitting to you, it was like you were in awe of it. You couldn't get enough. It was intoxicating to be the object of your desire like that. I get that that can't last forever, or happen every day. But I'm hoping we can capture it again once in a while.

This post may not make huge amounts of sense. It might seem like I'm asking for alot. I don't mean to. I'm writing before I've completely finished processing this. I'm not asking for huge changes, or even really any changes. I'm just saying you're wonderful, Sir. You have an energy that inspires amazingly dirty things in my mind. I haven't masturbated without thinking of you at least once basically since we've met. And I hope I'm not boring you. I know that's just my insecurity. But it's still me. I love you, Sir.

Update: had the possibly quite obvious realization today that some of this is likely due to me. A relationship takes two people. If I don't like what's happening, I should be looking at what I can do. I love you, Sir.

On Service

Good afternoon, Sir.

I love you so much. I'm working on service for you, rather than service so I feel useful. I love you, and hate to see you unhappy. But that's my problem. You need to be unhappy for a while, and that's ok. I'm trying my best to make sure my issues not become more important than letting you be yourself right now.

I just want to fix everything for you. Being superwoman would be great right about now. I know I can't. It's silly. The rational side of me knows I can't be your everything, and I don't want to be. Except for when I do.

I want to serve you in a way that's for you, not too fill my emotional needs. Then I just end up needier. I want to be strong and independent and confident so I can serve you better. I love you, Sir. I'm trying my best, and always learning, Sir. You inspire me to keep trying.

Polyamory

Good morning, Sir.

Today I realized something interesting about polyamory. You and I we're taking about how alone time is important, and often neglected in polyamorous life, and decided to take some time for yourself. I was left conflicted. As much add i cognitively know the value of alone time, I still struggle with the desire to be your happiness. It's silly and romantic. But it's there. And as I went about putting away the dishes and making myself some lunch, it struck me. Polyamory isn't so much about the idea that just one person can't satisfy all our needs. It's about the idea that really, no one can. Perhaps not even ourselves.

To have needs is to be alive. With every exhalation we create the new need for oxygen. If we do not fill it out lungs will burn, our minds give out, our bodies shut down. So we inhale again, and satisfy the need. Until the next breath.

I can be a needy person. I don't mean to be. In fact, I often imagine what I would be like if I didn't need anyone ever again. But I do need people. I need you, Sir. But not every minute. I'm learning about finding a balance. I had one. Then I inhaled. Now I need a new one.

Breath is such a fascinating concept. So intrinsic to life. I once read of a breathing exercise that talked about breath in terms of emotions and experiences we've had. As you inhale, you want draw breath to you, not pulling, not clinging, but relaxed, accepting the air filling your lungs. Likewise the exhale was not to be forcing the air out and away from you, and not trying to trap it within you, but releasing it back into the world.

For my next tattoo, I've decided to get the word accept in my left wrist, and release on my right one (I'm thinking in white, to be more subtle). This is what I whisper to myself with each breath when I'm being spanked to tears. Accept the pain, and release it again. Feeling the breath come through one side of new and out the other, taking the pain, the pleasure, all of it as it flows. It can be applied to anything in life. Accept what happens, and then let it go. Pain, pleasure, joy, sadness, closeness, loneliness. They all come and go, anyway. There will always be a need. And there will always be a way to fill it.

I love you, Sir.

Independence and Security

Good afternoon, Sir.

Today I find myself stuck between conflicting desires. On the one hand, I love the freedom to explore my own relationships, and design my own life. But this can get so overwhelming.  There are moments where I wish someone would just tell me what to do. Oddly enough, this is being mirrored in my professional life right now. Perhaps that's why I'm so very aware of it right now.

I feel like I'm stuck between two extremes. And a part of me, maybe not the healthiest part, is struggling to live with the dichotomy. I know I'm meant to live like this, I've always been more comfortable with variety, with flexibility. But it gets exhausting sometimes. I'm feeling a little burnt out, not by our relationship, but just by life in general. I'm looking forward to seeing you this weekend, Sir. I'm hoping it will help me feel more secure and rested.

I love you, Sir.