He asked me to pick him up from the International Airport. The last time I’d seen him, it was far too short a visit. Three days after a year, just seemed a vicious tease. He’d asked only for me to meet him at SFO. I needed to be in heels, dress or skirt and my auburn hair down.
It took forever to find a dress that I wanted to wear only for him. I wanted just the right color. The right look which says, I’m classy yet I’m just enough of a slut for you. What caught my eye? A red printed dress, soft ruffles on the bottom, with a V-cut that showed just enough cleavage that I know would get a thankful nod.
I sat and waited, fidgeting with the hem of my skirt. Why was I so nervous? Crossing my legs and uncrossing, I could feel the hemline move higher. I pulled out a book but that didn’t help, I just wanted him. He’d said he had something special. But wouldn’t tell me what, I hated when he did that. The book was quickly thrown back into my purse.
I ran my hands up the sides of my ivory arms, it was cold in there. My phone vibrated softly against my leg, a new text just delivered. Stand up, it read. I did. The hemline fell softly, ruffles bounced as they landed in their place. Turning around, I looked for him. It took a moment to spot his round glasses and smiling face. Ivory skin turned pink as I smiled back. He was one of only a handful of men that could make me glow and blush at the same time.
His dark brown, leather briefcase between his feet, hands entwined in the back of my hair, he kissed sweetly. He tugged my head to the side, exposing my neck to his tender lips which nipped. Picking up the briefcase, he held my hand. I wasn’t going anywhere he knew that. But the simple act of holding me in place brought me into my space. This was where I belonged.
My heart skipped as I looked down to see in his hand smooth, polished steel. His hand released me as he slid the collar around my neck. I bent my head forward, hair falling in my face, so he could lock it in place.
A crowd gathered witnessing this tender moment and all I could focus on was my Master’s eyes as he looked through my soul.
Friday, July 9, 2010
Sunday, June 20, 2010
Healing
I’ve been dark for a while. After the previous blog post—which I emailed to Sir—things have been wonderful. I wish I could relate to you how elated I am. But apparently I express myself with clarity only when extremely angry.
I sent the post via email to Sir. It was the only way that I could express how much he had hurt me. Surprisingly he responded quickly. He was hurt, well saddened. He hadn’t meant to hurt me as badly as he did. The only reason he wanted to let me go was simply because he didn’t want to be selfish. After all he didn’t know how long he would be in London. I understood this but didn’t/don’t want to be under anyone but him. And as for being selfish, hell, I’m the most unselfish person I know. I tell him to be selfish for both of us.
Clouds part, smiles ensue. Things like this don’t happen every day. When you find someone who you click with, you tend to hold on and hope the ride is longer than eight seconds.
Don’t get me wrong, it hasn’t been all smiles and sunshine. There was a long week of slow communication in which after each email I was in tears. My writing group gave me hugs and cheered for my writing what they wanted to say. But in the end, it was through those words I wanted to hurt him with that our healing process began. I can’t stress how important communication is in a D/s relationship.
So for now, I am beside myself with giddy, girly, happiness. And honestly, he is the first Dom that I actually see myself saying yes if he decided he wanted to collar me.
I sent the post via email to Sir. It was the only way that I could express how much he had hurt me. Surprisingly he responded quickly. He was hurt, well saddened. He hadn’t meant to hurt me as badly as he did. The only reason he wanted to let me go was simply because he didn’t want to be selfish. After all he didn’t know how long he would be in London. I understood this but didn’t/don’t want to be under anyone but him. And as for being selfish, hell, I’m the most unselfish person I know. I tell him to be selfish for both of us.
Clouds part, smiles ensue. Things like this don’t happen every day. When you find someone who you click with, you tend to hold on and hope the ride is longer than eight seconds.
Don’t get me wrong, it hasn’t been all smiles and sunshine. There was a long week of slow communication in which after each email I was in tears. My writing group gave me hugs and cheered for my writing what they wanted to say. But in the end, it was through those words I wanted to hurt him with that our healing process began. I can’t stress how important communication is in a D/s relationship.
So for now, I am beside myself with giddy, girly, happiness. And honestly, he is the first Dom that I actually see myself saying yes if he decided he wanted to collar me.
Wednesday, May 26, 2010
Heartbreak
Today is the first time I’ve ever cried. That is, it’s the first time my heart has been broken. Sure I’ve had relationships which I’ve cared for the other quite deeply. However, my heart shattered—rock through a window—with an email.
I’m not going to give you all the back story. Just know that we are locked in a perpetual state of almost. I thought that we moved into finally but his work intervened and took us back to almost. There was a week of communication darkness. I had to fill in the blanks with justifications. He’s busy, working hard. New York time is different than California time. Not just in time zones but New York has its own center of gravity which makes the universe move quicker when inside. All you can do to survive is to hold on.
I watched as my heart it started the spaghettification process. Pieces pulled painfully as one week turned to two. An email confirming my justifications, yet promises in the not so far future. He’ll be in town for the weekend. I offer up myself. I don’t mind forgoing my trip to San Francisco if I can spend it with him. You have no idea how long I’ve waited for the stars to align letting us develop from mentor and friend into committed relationship.
He wants me to go to San Francisco. “A well needed rest for you,” he says. A hairline fracture splintered in my heart. I do as he suggests, I always do.
It’s Monday and back to New York he goes. Transmissions garbled. Communication lost. All systems dark and another week slipped by. I know he reads my emails but I’ve never wanted to be ‘that’ girl. That girl, which emails every day, sometimes twice a day to show affection. It reads desperate, even if that’s how I feel, I don’t. He doesn’t need my ego stroking. However, I do email conveying my support of what he’s doing. In the long run it will be good for me too. I show that I’m functioning well without him, as I know it would make him proud. Another week of darkness passes. I’m dangling precariously on a mental chasm trying to figure out what to do. His name pops into my phone, a new email. He’s in London.
He explains away his absence, which is perfectly understandable. However, the third sentence confirms my fear. “I think I need to focus on this now, if I spend the next few months…I have really set everything in motion for what I have always wanted.” Tears well up, “I am sorry this was not what I had planned for us, I had great plans.” So did I. “Things shifted a bit, I cannot ask you to wait.”
The letter goes on; it is a magnificent ‘I love you but…’ letter. Tears, which I do not show to anyone, flow freely. I didn’t think words could hurt that much.
I tell him I’ve been seeing someone. A half truth, I don’t think there is a man in the work that can make me feel as good as he did. But I wanted my words to hurt too. Words, at this point, are all I have. But he sees through the thinly veiled attempt. He knows it’s not true. And I confess that no matter who I am with, I will always want him.
I’m not going to give you all the back story. Just know that we are locked in a perpetual state of almost. I thought that we moved into finally but his work intervened and took us back to almost. There was a week of communication darkness. I had to fill in the blanks with justifications. He’s busy, working hard. New York time is different than California time. Not just in time zones but New York has its own center of gravity which makes the universe move quicker when inside. All you can do to survive is to hold on.
I watched as my heart it started the spaghettification process. Pieces pulled painfully as one week turned to two. An email confirming my justifications, yet promises in the not so far future. He’ll be in town for the weekend. I offer up myself. I don’t mind forgoing my trip to San Francisco if I can spend it with him. You have no idea how long I’ve waited for the stars to align letting us develop from mentor and friend into committed relationship.
He wants me to go to San Francisco. “A well needed rest for you,” he says. A hairline fracture splintered in my heart. I do as he suggests, I always do.
It’s Monday and back to New York he goes. Transmissions garbled. Communication lost. All systems dark and another week slipped by. I know he reads my emails but I’ve never wanted to be ‘that’ girl. That girl, which emails every day, sometimes twice a day to show affection. It reads desperate, even if that’s how I feel, I don’t. He doesn’t need my ego stroking. However, I do email conveying my support of what he’s doing. In the long run it will be good for me too. I show that I’m functioning well without him, as I know it would make him proud. Another week of darkness passes. I’m dangling precariously on a mental chasm trying to figure out what to do. His name pops into my phone, a new email. He’s in London.
He explains away his absence, which is perfectly understandable. However, the third sentence confirms my fear. “I think I need to focus on this now, if I spend the next few months…I have really set everything in motion for what I have always wanted.” Tears well up, “I am sorry this was not what I had planned for us, I had great plans.” So did I. “Things shifted a bit, I cannot ask you to wait.”
The letter goes on; it is a magnificent ‘I love you but…’ letter. Tears, which I do not show to anyone, flow freely. I didn’t think words could hurt that much.
I tell him I’ve been seeing someone. A half truth, I don’t think there is a man in the work that can make me feel as good as he did. But I wanted my words to hurt too. Words, at this point, are all I have. But he sees through the thinly veiled attempt. He knows it’s not true. And I confess that no matter who I am with, I will always want him.
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