First Thoughts from MsC

The MsC is always a tough time for me. I rarely get that kind of time to be immersed in the world I love and be with the people I enjoy. I may live my life as part and parcel of Leather, but how often do any of us get to go and be ourselves without the societal facade we present to the rest of the world. And as wonderful as it is to drop most of our facade and shields, it can be jarring and painful to come back to our lives...to shoulder that masking shield and go back to who we are when others—outsiders--are watching.

And for an introvert, 515 other people in close proximity for four days can be exhausting. My public face and ability to maintain any sort of energy and control usually has a shelf life of 48 hours. Double that and you'll see me dash into a bathroom stall to take a few deep breaths, curse the tears back into my eyes, and remind myself that I am fine.

I know that as I continue to decompress, more thoughts may come, but I want to share a few important lessons I learned this weekend.

As those who know me can attest, I am hard-headed and sometimes it takes a hell of a mule kick to get me to stop hurting myself and those around me. I can chew on something that hurts until it is so deep and so infected with my own interpretations and pain that it never heals. But that isn't what I want for my life. It isn't what feeds me. It isn't what I deserve. So I made the conscious decision to let go. To let go of the pain. To let go of the need to be in control. To let go of the desire to be hurt by things I cannot control or affect. And you read that right. I had to first acknowledge that I was making the choice to be hurt by these things before I could admit I had the power to let go of them.

I realized that my desire to be in control of myself is also a way to control those around me, including the man with whom I am currently under consideration. I realized that every limit I put on what I “need” or feel entitled to, chokes off the authority of this man and cheats both of us of the power and value of surrender and vulnerability. I can't say that I won't ever feel like I “need” to know something or “deserve” to have something, but when I do, I have committed to examining these things, evaluating if they are true needs and then sharing those with him in order to continue to dialog about building our relationship.

I realized that by refusing to let go and be vulnerable with this man, I was cheating us both out of what I know, and he knows, an M/s relationship can be. The more I hold back parts of myself, the less I am in service and the more I am simply paying lip service to the concept. If I cannot let go of my past and the pain and the distrust and allow him to see the deepest, bloodiest, most selfish parts of myself, then I am not serving him. I am serving myself and doing a piss-poor job at that.

I realized that by refusing even a small request based solely on my own dissatisfaction with myself and the fabricated constructs I had imposed on the relationship I was cheating and hurting us both. I was bringing myself more pain as he reacted to my resistance and further imposing those same fabricated constructs because I felt justified in doing so based on his reactions to my inaction. It was a vicious circle and I have broken the current one and set my brain to watch for future ones in order to head them off before they can do more harm.

I realized that I am powerful and valuable and loveable. I have never believed these things with the level of conviction I have right now. I do not have to fit anyone else's definition of slave to be who I am to those I might serve. I do not have to give up being powerful to surrender authority. I do not have to denigrate my own value to make myself available for service. I do not have to pretend I don't need to connect on a deep emotional and spiritual level in order to be healthy and fulfilled in service. And I know I am worth the effort and investment it takes to get to know me, to accept authority over me, and to be responsible for me as a servant.

As I said, I am sure more will come with time and decompression, but these are the key things I have learned and wanted to share with others.


I admit to getting into the car to come home still filled with the pain and anger I had carried through a majority of the weekend only to have my soul finally stand up and scream that if I didn't knock it off, I was going to suffer so deeply that I might not recover. There was a nearly audible click as many of the things I had thought and heard and considered during the weekend came together and suddenly none of what had made me cry before we left the hotel mattered. None of the “inequality” I was fabricating made a damn bit of difference. If I am to be the slave I know I am, I have to surrender authority to the one I serve and in doing so, accept that the choices he makes regarding my day to day life are done with thought and consideration for all involved, including me. I had to understand that being hurt is a choice based on no one but me. To know that I am not the center of the universe and that things aren't done to me, I do them to myself. At that moment I was free to be me. The powerful, competent, valuable, loveable slave...no boundaries, no constraints. I have never felt more free than I did at that moment and I thank everyone who helped me over the past 13 years of my journey to this place.

Blows to the Ego and Other Tales from the Crypt

I tend to be a pretty quiet person when it comes to the various things that truly hurt. I'll kvetch or carry on about the unimportant things, but the deep ones, the ones that make me cry silently in the middle of the night, those I don't say much about.

I am human, no matter how much you might think differently. I'm as insecure about my body, my looks, my service, as anyone else. I hide behind the brash, loud exterior people have seen over the last several years, because I got tired of getting beat up for expressing my feelings. 

And there are only so many blows my ego can take before I fold. 

I feel like I'm whining and I don't like that feeling. And yet at the same time I know that if I hear one more person either explicitly or implicitly tell me that I'm not "enough" I am going to scream. 

I'm so tired of not being "enough." Not good enough, pretty enough, smart enough. I don't do my job well enough. I don't look submissive enough. I'm not thin enough.

I understand a lot of things fairly well. I know that some of the feeling of inadequacy is my own. However, looking back over my relationships, I see a pattern. 

In a poly household, I certainly understand seeking "more" to fill an EMPTY place in the house.  You don't go to the dentist to get your ingrown toe nail fixed because the dentist doesn't have the right skills to fill that need. I see the same idea working in a poly household. Filling a space with "more" that is unfilled by the current members of the house, I understand. 

What I don't understand, and what has been my experience over and over again, is filling the space with "more" of the same simply for the sake of variety. This behavior, to which I have been repeatedly subjected over the years, does little other than give the dominant a harem and make every servant feel as though they aren't "enough." 

Why seek out additional servants with no additional skills if the one you have already is enough? Worse yet, why bring these servants into a household where not only do they contribute nothing new to the dynamic, but they take from the tasks and contact the original servant once enjoyed?

I'm rambling and whining, but if someone could explain this compulsion to me in a way that is deeper than "It's the dominant's right," or "It's a male thing," I really would appreciate it. 

Possession and Control

These are thoughts that came to me as I was waking up this morning.

I love the feeling of being posessed. A hand in my hair, pulling my head back will make me melt. Add a bite to the exposed neck and I'm jelly from head to toe.

I keep having flashbacks of you above and inside me, clasping my hands above my head. Utter and complete posession with the added bonus of control. The fact that you were asking me questions at the time, forcing me to think beyond the physical sensation, made the reality of your control over me even more vivid.

There was a similar sensation of posession when you told me to grasp the bed frame. I'm slowly learning the art of verbal bondage...the desire to remain mentally bound by a Dominant's command. There was a time when I was incredibly uncomfortable without actual bonds, but I am passing that and actually enjoying the mental bondage.

I'm a sensual person...stimulating all of my senses will bind me far better than any rope. The sound of your voice, a rough whisper or a low question, is part of what brings me to that submissive place. I've always been affected by sounds.

Anyway, I'm sure more of this will come to me at a later point in the day. I'll write more when it does. I'm missing you and hoping to hear from you very soon.

The Letter

This is the letter I drafted to JD. I haven't sent it yet. I'm pretty sure I will, but I want to think about it for a bit first.

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You lying sack of shit! I cannot believe that I trusted you when not a single word that ever came out of your mouth was the truth! What gives you the right to hurt people, to lie to them, to deliberately play upon their good nature just so you can get laid? You are the worst form of low level life I have ever come across. Did it turn you on when I cried, is that why you intentionally set out to hurt me from the moment we met?
Did you love the fact that a single word from you was enough to make me cry. Did you get your rocks off when you knew I cried and worried for DAYS when your phantasmal girlfriend slit her wrists? Did it matter to you that I blamed myself for another human being's pain? Obviously not.
I know you are still married. I know there is no Susan. I know that you continued to spend time with Gloria. I know that every word you ever said to me was a LIE! No wonder you were so afraid of anyone knowing of me. You were cheating on your wife and stood a very real chance of losing everything you found important over getting laid.
I hope you enjoyed it, you sorry excuse for a man. I've NEVER, not even when we were swinging and the men couldn't keep it up, been with a lover as selfish as you. No wonder you had no problem treating me like a whore. All you ever wanted was a fuck and you didn't have to pay me. Instead, you got the added bonus of a woman with a giving nature who filled your toybag for you. I pray to God and Goddess that no other woman ever falls for your line of bullshit. I'd rather see my hard work ROT than to know you laid a hand on anyone else and lied to another unsuspecting soul.
I was the sinking ship, right? I was the one the local community considered a pariah. Guess what, asshole, your goose is cooked. No submissive who knows anyone in the lifestyle is ever going to believe you ever again. You fucked up. Enough people know the truth now and have seen the pain you inflicted on one of your victims. No one is going to allow you to do it to anyone else.
What gave you the right to destroy my emotional well being? I keep coming back to the supposed suicide attempt. That is the single cruelest thing anyone has EVER done to me. You allowed me to believe that because of my weakness, my inaction, another human being attempted to take their life. You let me believe that, all the while knowing that 1) there was no girlfriend in the first fucking place and 2) the whole story was just something you made up to get out of keeping a promise to me. How dare you intentionally harm anyone's emotional well-being just so your wife and kids wouldn't find out about your fuck on the side?
I confused the hell out you, didn't I? I was HONEST to a fault. I told you and my husband everything and you didn't know how to deal with that. But for some reason you decided you wanted me, wanted something from me. Was I convenient? Was that it? Or was it because I reminded you of your WIFE? You sick son of a bitch. Can't fuck your wife as much as you want (or at all since she's so sick all the time) so you went out and found a woman who reminded you of her and fucked her over.
I hope you've enjoyed yourself. I hope you smiled every time you remembered what I did for you, every blow job, every abortive attempt at sex, every premature ejaculation, every blow you laid upon my skin. I hope you enjoyed it because Karma is a bitch. I was willing to just let it go and let the universe deal with you and the lies I knew about. Part of my faith is acting in accord, doing what I can to help the Divine bring justice and return the balance. Know that I will make sure no unsuspecting woman ever falls for your lies again. I will be sure to tell anyone who asks that you are a liar and a cheat. And I will turn to the Divine and ask for justice.
I pray your children never learn what a horrible man their father is. Don't worry, I'd never bring your family into your own pool of shit as you go down. I care too much about your children to ever hurt them. But someday your daughter is going to look for a husband. Do you really want her to find one "just like her Daddy?"
Stay the hell away from me. You don't deserve the energy I've already put into this email and it is the last thing you'll ever get from me.

Sunday Morning

Well, let's start with the good news. I enjoyed the party last night. It was wonderful to see people I hadn't seen in months and meet a couple of folks I had only ever known as screen names online. S and P seemed to enjoy themselves and we (R and I) won two of the party games. He won the "pop the balloon with the single tail" and together we tied for first with another couple in the trivia contest. Never knew my brain was so full of useless crap :).

Now for the news that had me curled up against a wall, crying in a guest bedroom for about 15 minutes last night.

I was talking with M (hostess) and G (a woman I had previously not liked because there was a time when it appeared she was trying to come between me and JD). I now have absolute confirmation that not a single thing JD ever told me was the truth. He's NOT divorced. There is NO girlfriend to have tried to commit suicide. He never stopped spending time with G. Every word that ever came out of his mouth was a lie.

I don't even know where to begin to express the pain and anger I'm feeling right now. I want to scream and cry and throw things. I want to get him alone in a room and tear his eyes out. I want him to hurt as much as I hurt. I can't believe I was so gullible, that I trusted this man and believed him...took him at his word. At least now I know that no one in Fayetteville will be hurt that way again. C and M and G and Wolf will see to it that no unsuspecting submissive woman will fall into his trap again.

I think I'm going to draft an email and dump out all the horrible things I want to say to him and try to get past the pain. I don't know if I'll send it, but I know if I keep this bottled up, it will only do me more harm.

Feeling pretty good

things with J.D. have been getting much better today's e-mail may me smile.

we are going to the MDBDSM munch tomorrow. I'm going to be doing a demonstration on DIY Kink. When I asked JD what I should wear for this event, he only specified one thing...a braided leather collar I had asked to be permitted to wear to our munch in June, but received permission too late to do so. Then today, I got this:
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"just remember what I wanted you to wear around your neck"
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It makes me smile sooooooo wide when he does these things. I don't know if he realizes how much it means to me when he says things like this.

I got some other really good news. My best friend, S, is going to be attending the munch with us tomorrow. I gotta corner him and ask him how he got away from his wife for the evening :).

Communication

As someone who checks her email several times a day, it is hard for me to understand letting it go for whole days at a time.

And that is exactly what he does sometimes. There have been weeks when he only glances at his mail to see if there is anything pressing and he only does that once or twice. That would drive me nuts and with the lists I'm on, it would fill up even the 10mg my ISP gives me.

The problem is that I often send an email because I still feel funny about calling his house too often. I usually call him as I am arriving in town and leave a message on his voice mail. He is then free to call me back when he gets home and has time. I rarely call his cell phone because I know it is expensive for him and I don't want to disturb him at work. Even when he tells me to call him at work, I feel funny doing it...I get that sinking, spinning feeling in my stomach like I'm doing something I shouldn't be doing.

I miss being able to write him letters. But after the "Big Talk" we determined that I was using the letters as an excuse not to talk to him in person and he said no more. Immediately prior to the "Big Talk" someone had stolen one of my letters from his mailbox...probably his psycho hose beast ex-mother in law. So that meant I could no longer mail them and had to be careful about leaving them for him at his house. The last thing I want is to be the reason social services makes a play to take his children from him. Yes, he's divorced. Yes, he's a fabulous father. But we all know how the "state" feels about WIITWD. And in his case, the psycho hose beast ex-mother in law doesn't even want Sir to have a girlfriend. Imagine what she would do with the information that this "girlfriend" was married and let him flog her.

I miss him. That's what this whole thought process is about. Since the "Big Talk" we've spent some really nice time together, talking and learning more and more about each other. I have discovered that I really like that time.

I can still feel my collar on my neck, his skin under my hands as I sat on the floor beside his couch touching him while we talked of music and memories and mundane things. Those are moments I like to savor. Not that standing before him as he plunged two fingers into me and pulled my nipples until my back arched and my knees almost gave way is a bad memory *weg*. But the quiet times when there is no pressure are so rare that I treasure each moment.

I had a scary thought that day, though. As I lay my head on his knee, soothing him after a minor upset disrupted part of the afternoon, I remember thinking, "I could love him if he'd let me." That is not a good thought and I don't know what to do with it. I know he cares for me, but I also know that he is afraid to love me because I'm married. He's told me that he's not sure how to handle what I feel for him because he's afraid of getting in too deep. That day was one of the ones where I could feel his emotions clearly. When he takes my face and turns it to him to kiss, when he doesn't even flinch as my nails bite into his shoulder as he removes the clamps, when his eyes tell me he cares for me...those are the things I know in my heart and soul. Those are the things he does without thinking or calculating. It is the things he does to distance me...kissing my forehead and stepping back before I leave...that feel calculated.

This has gotten long and rambly and doesn't even match the subject line anymore :).