I'd like to think I'm a rather strong girl. That I found my way through a lot of darkness, survived, kept my head up high.
But there are other times.
Times when I just want to fall to pieces. And have someone by my side pick me up again. Someone who knows the right order of this jigsaw, who knows what belongs in the picture and what doesn't.
I want to let myself fall again, close my eyes and just let go - knowing that there's someone who'll catch me. Who'll wrap his arms around me and show me it'll be alright. That I'll be fine.
Someone who lets me fall apart and builds me up again. Someone who helps me break into a thousand little splinters because he knows it's what I need. But who doesn't forget I also need him to fix me again, glue it all together - coming out stronger than I was.
I need to trust someone that much again.
I'd like to think I'm a rather strong girl. But I really need to be weak right now.
I'm super excited! I have a date on Sunday!
He messaged me on FetLife about a month ago. In the beginning, I didn't really like him at all - he seemed odd. And we had some communication problems because ... well, I guess my definition of some words (and connotations, sometimes) don't meet his. But I'm glad we got past that.
I'm still not sure we'll match kink-wise. He is into humiliation and pet play - I am not a pet (yet I said I'd try that and I will, I mean, in the end you never know - a lot of stuff I'm into now wouldn't have occurred to me a few months ago) and I'm very touchy when it comes to humiliation due to my past. But he said he doesn't wanna 'break' me or not do me any good - and by now I trust him on thatWe've been planning to meet for like three weeks now but never got the chance. First he was sick, then his car broke, then I was sick. I still am - but I hope that by Sunday I will be fine. Gosh, I'm so freaking nervous! I've decided on what to wear yesterday and that kinda calms me down. It'll be a black fake leather fringed skirt with a red top (that's got a thin fake leather collar and thus matches the skirt perfectly), and a pantyhose that's ... hm. How to describe that? It's black up to shortly over the knee and then the design changes and it looks like garters with bows, but it's still a pantyhose. It's something in between sexy and cute. My knee-length heeled boots will go well with it :) and to top it all of, I'll wear my red coat. I actually think that's about as good as I can do ...
I just wish I hadn't gained so much weight. Since AD left, I've been spiraling, unable to control my eating. I'm still far from healthy - probably even further away than before, but I care about myself again. I gained 9 fucking kilogram! I can't have that.
I've not been eating since Sunday. I know it's not healthy. But I need to drop 3 more kg till Sunday. Putting myself under a lot of pressure, I know ... But I really want him to like me. I mean, I know he likes my personality already, and he's been attracted to my pictures on FetLife - but those only show my face or max my upper body. You don't see my belly or my hips or my legs or any of that ... Especially not now that I've gained so fucking much!
So ... I've never really gone without eating for that long, to be honest. I was a little dizzy this morning, but not worryingly so. I've had a grande nonfat latte this morning - but I think that's about as much as I'll have today. I can't help but feel a bit proud about Tuesday. I was already at the store, binge-mode fully on - when I fought the binge. I've never ever fought a binge before. It makes me hope I can actually do this!
But enough of me talking about my issues that can't be fixed anyways. I mean, I'm fully aware that I'm not anywhere near healthy right now - yet I don't wanna change that. Not until the scale plays nice again. I've come so far the past year - I can't have two months of spiraling take that from me.
And ... This may be my last chance to ... Give in to my ED. Once I have a new Dom, I won't be allowed to let it take over control, I'm pretty sure of that.
Not eating. Feels good. Scares me - but I am giving me some slack till next Monday. I've decided to get back to living healthily then. I know I can do it.
I have a date on Sunday. I'm so excited!
More soon - once I find the time and feel the urge to write again. Right now, even though I'm not coping too well, I feel like I can sort it out in my head or with friends and don't necessarily have to put it down here.
Watching Netflix. All I can think is "damn, that's a nice body" or "love those hip bones" or "if I stop eating now, by the end of the year I might look like that".
Big into self harming behavior. Trying not to let it out on my tattoo. That'd be damage I can't ever make up again.
I realize I haven't been blogging much in the past couple of days. I'm still working on a longer blog post that I started but somehow can't find the motivation to finish. I guess it's because I've been dwelling over it so much that I already partly solved the issues I had and thus don't feel the pressing urge to write it all down anymore. But I will, eventually.
This post can't wait, though, because I need to voice this.
I'm kinda talking to a guy, I don't really know what I'm getting myself into because ... well. With AD it was always clear that it'd always be online only, that we'd never actually meet or have a future together - He used to call Himself a "space filler" for me until I found my next boyfriend. But this guy (let's call him CN) - that's different. He's actually interested in being together, for real. Which both attracts and scares me.
So far I like Him a lot. - Uh, just caught myself capping the pronoun. Guess that gives away how much I like Him. I'm gonna stop right here and not get into it - He deserves a post of His own and not be a preface to what I really want to touch in this post.
So we've been talking about fantasies. I told Him about one that I had (that is as much cliche as it is hot). He's very ambitious when it comes to His job and I imagined how I'd visit Him in His office. I'd be wearing a trench coat and a scarf, garters and heels. I'd carry a lunch bag with some sandwiches to cover my story. I'd lock the door behind me, then I'd take off my coat. Wearing nothing but those garters and the heels (though maybe if I had really really hot lingerie ... but you get the idea), take off my scarf and reveal my collar underneath it. He'd push me down to my knees and makes me gag on his cock to punish me for trying to call the shots, coming to His office like that. Then He'd bend me over His desk and fucks me. He'd cum in my ass, taking a butt plug and sealing His cum. Then He'd tell me to go stand in the corner, maybe cuffed to the wall, maybe with a nice little spreaderbar. And He'd get back to work and enjoys the view while making phone calls.
So far, so good.
Then He told me a fantasy that He had. How I'd be kneeling, naked, blindfolded, wearing ear plugs, mouth open. Ready to please but completely clueless what'd happen to me. How He may not even be in the same room. And I wouldn't know if the next thing I felt was Him caressing me or the stroke of a belt.
That's when I started to lose it. I never really knew why pictures with men holding a belt bothered me. I just never liked the idea. But when I imagined that scene it hit me right in the face and I couldn't pull back. Couldn't escape a memory coming back, one that I had carefully supressed.
I never forgot that my father used to hit me - but I somehow forgot how. (I'm at the office right now and I'm trying hard not to lose it, but my hands are shaking. Yet I need to write this down.) It came rushing back to me then, though. How he used to take off his belt. How I'd try to cover my face, make myself small. How that didn't stop him. Gripping my shoulder. Yelling at me, telling me how worthless I am. One thing I remember specifically. How I tried to run, fled to the stairs to get to my room. And wasn't fast enough.
I lost it yesterday. I was hacking portals, headed to the supermarket. I managed to grab some groceries but forgot half of it. I was shaking. That image of me running for the stairs. The brown leather belt.
As soon as I got home, I watched some Dexter episodes to take my mind off it. I'm just glad the memories came back when we only talked about it. If He had asked me what was off limits, I wouldn't have mentioned a belt. I didn't remember. I would've said something like "well, a paddle is not off limits - but be careful. Let's start slowly, not sure I'd like it" - but a belt? Actually, it never even crossed my mind. Because subconsciously, I never connected a belt with pleasure. And my subconsciousness blended out the thought of getting punished with a belt.
I'm trying not to lose it at the office. But I had to write this down. So that I'll never forget again.
I also remember how I once tried to fight back, tried to catch his arm mid-air. And how I wasn't strong enough, how that infuriated him. - I know he wouldn't try to beat me up today, those days are over. Not because he felt guilty about it or came to the conclusion that it didn't do any good. It just ... stopped when I grew older. And now that I don't live with him anymore, he doesn't have a say. But if he ever did - I swear to God, I wouldn't let him. I remember that even though I tried to fight back, I was also scared and reluctant. I wouldn't be today. I'd fight him. I'd yell at him, tell him what he did to me, how poor he must be that the only way to solve things was for him to beat me up. How he was fucking right, how he never should've had children in the first place. Because he told me a few months ago that he had never wanted to have kids. I'd tell him that he fucked up. Fucked up my life. And that ever since I can think, I've been trying to put myself together. (No. Don't you cry. Not at the office. Don't you dare.) How I wish I knew what a family was. How I wish I could just be open with people, share my feelings, talk about these things. How I wish I for once felt like I deserved to be loved. How I wish I could accept myself. How I fucking wished he hadn't fucking told me on my birthday that I had gained weight. Right before my birthday party. When I had made up my mind that I wouldn't think about calories or not working out that weekend. That I would enjoy my party. Enjoy turning 23, look at that tattoo and be happy. "I am your father, I am allowed to tell you that, even on your birthday." Are you? I don't think so. You're my goddamn father, you should give me a hug for my birthday. But the last time you hugged me was when I turned 13 or 14, I don't quite remember. (Damn, tears, go away!)
I'm losing it. And I said what I needed to say. If I continue down this path, I won't be able to pull myself together. And I can't break down here.
and especially: Hello Nasimiyu! Can't believe you read this and left a comment - it was so great to read it! I hope you're well and still enjoying the benefits of marriage ;-)
Let's see. There was a lot that I wanted to write about - but to be honest, I can't recall it. Which is good, I guess, because it means I somehow solved it without having to agonize over it in writing. So I thought I'd simply give you a little update on my life.
Friday is my birthday. I turn 23 - and I'm excited. It's the first birthday in 7 years that I'm single, the first time that my ex won't wake me up, that I'll throw a party and invite friends and not go out for dinner with him. I'm somehow glad - this sounds mean, but I am. It means I'll be having fun instead of a romantic dinner with bad sex afterwards. And as for the sex, well, E kinda promised me something ;-)
I went out partying last Saturday with my best friend, S. Sadly, E didn't come - but we met his two best friends and had a lot of fun. S got along with them perfectly fine which is quite a relief. Now my birthday will be even more fun! I didn't drink that much, but I still somehow managed to forget to get off my train talking to S. So when we waited for the next train, we had one of these girl talks. This sounds like I'm the outcast who never had friend - but it was kinda the first time I had one of these "let's talk about guys and sex" moments. And it was fun. The booze also helped. I can't really recall what details I mentioned, but I'm sure it wasn't vanilla. I'm just really glad to have her.
Next to my laptop is the shopping list for my birthday. Booze, more booze, pizza monkey bread, noodle salad, blueberry muffins, cheese cake. So much food! And it'll continue on Sunday when I'm having lunch with my family, there'll be a lot of food and cake and cake and cake. I try not to panic.
I do not want to, but I think I kinda have to mention it. I'm not doing well on food these days. I didn't eat at all yesterday. I just only had a persimmon for brekky, and I'm not really planning on having much else than cereals today. I'm such a hypocrite! Yesterday on IRC, there was this girl. She's a friend's sub and she mentioned how she worked out for the first time that day and was so proud and how it was the first step of dropping 100 pounds. That's when my red alarm light flashed. 100 pounds - that's a huge change. Let's see - I dropped roughly 30 pounds in one year, completely healthily. For a 19 year old girl to tackle 100 pounds, that'd be 2 years at least. I don't know how other girls are at 19 - but I wouldn't have planned that much time. I'm a fucked up maniac, I would've been like "next christmas I'm gonna have dropped 100 pounds" because The Biggest Loser and other TV shows and celebrities say that it's possible. Personally, by now I don't think it is when you don't devote your every second to it.
But I really should keep my mouth shut since I'm the biggest hypocrite of all. Drop weight healthily? Yeah. Did that. The whole freaking year until now. Now I'm back to fasting, and I worked out yesterday. I jogged round about 45 minutes and even included some exercises like 100 jumping jacks, an exercise I remember from Basketball (we called it Quivering) and others that I don't recall the name of. I'm proud as hell - I even took a before-workout/after-workout selfie. Even back in the really fucked up ED'ed days, I was a lazy one when it came to working out. I may have kicked my ass to go jogging for 30 minutes, but I would've never included additional exercises, let alone push myself to my very limits of exhaustion (the last 20 jumping jacks were just cruel!).
I shouldn't be proud of fasting. But I am. I gained so much weight in the past month, I'm scared to weigh in. I honestly am. So until I face a number on the scale, my stupid brain is all like 'if you don't eat now, you can make up for the past month and the scale won't hate you that much'. - And here I go, worrying over a probably perfectly healthy girl (who, on top, has a caring Dom at her side who will not let her fall over the edge, I'm sure) while I am not healthy at all. It's like it's always been: You tell others how beautiful they are and how they should cherish their body - but when it comes to your own body and yourself, that's a whole different story. Kinda ironic how I know so freaking much about living healthily, good workouts, when to eat what, nutrition, cooking - all of that, but can't really live up to it myself, can't implement those rules into my day. At the moment.
I know I'll get back to it. I've been there before. Three years ago, I fought my demons, and I can do this again. Just ... not today.
Friday. He'd be gone for the whole weekend. I always felt like it would tear me apart. And he'd be worried about me. He often stayed on borrowed time, find some excuse for his wife so he could be with me for another few minutes.
Me: I'll be fine
AD: :(
AD: I appreciate that babe
AD: I shouldn't be putting you through this
AD: I'll be really upset when you find your next boyfriend, but even more pleased
Me: How often do I have to ask you to go until you do? :P
AD: Another dozen times
Me: Please go
Me: Please go
Me: Please go
Me: Please go
Me: Please go
Me: Please go
Me: Pleaso go
Me: Please go
Me: Please go
Me: Please go
Me: Please go
Me: Please go
AD: Ha
Me: There you go
AD: You make me laugh
Me: Still not gone?
AD: Nope
Me: so you've lied
AD: :p
Me: I've asked you another dozen times, yet you're still here
AD: Smartass
Me: you know how it's important for a Dom to follow through? :P
AD: You know how it's important for a sub to remember her place? :p
Me: I need you to go, seriously.
AD: For me or you?
Me: Both, I think
AD: Okay
Me: There's a huge part of me that wants you to stay, but I can't have that
AD: Babe, if this is causing you so much discomfort, I really think you need to reassess
AD: Is it really worth the grief?
AD: I feel like its every week that it upsets you :(
Me: talk to you soon, ok? x
AD: And I don't blame you one bit
AD: Ok
Me: have a great night
AD: Thanks. Have a great day
Me: bye x
AD: Bye x
Yes. I am a naive, pathetic, stupid bitch - but does that sound like someone who's playing me? Does this really sound like someone who's bullshitting me?
I've been going through a lot of our conversations in my head. And they were all like this.
Despite everything, I miss him so much. And I am afraid to admit it because, well, how pathetic am I?
It really is time for an update. I've been trying to put this off as long as possible, but I feel that if I don't get to it now, I never will. And, to be honest, I need to write some of these things down in order to deal with them. That's what this blog has always been about. It's kinda weird to know that there are people out there who read this - who actually tell me on IRC that they look forward to reading from me. I'm still trying to wrap my head around that, when all I am really doing on here is trying to make up my mind and handle what's going on.
A few days ago, one of the room ops PM'ed me, telling me that AD was online. Using a different nick. He said there was no doubt it'd be him because he used some kind of ID tracker. And since AD had joined a room that I was in, he thought it was kind of my right to know.
I still do not have any words for how I felt. I broke down.
I confronted AD. Tried to get answers. He denied knowing anything about an AustDom - anything about me.
Before I hurt too much over this, I am going to stop right here. I just needed to say it once, for the record. I bet whoever reads this can imagine what it did to me, how badly I hurt. I cried over it all night, I never felt that drained and numb ever before.
I am also slightly mad. Not because AD was a jerk. He really wasn't. Not when he was with me. Memories have been coming back of what he did to me - and all of that was good. I still kinda can't believe that he really played me that badly. But by this, he not only took our future, he also took our past. He spoiled it. Every memory I have, now it's all like "well, was that really genuine?".
I've decided to answer this question with a "Yes". He's done so much for me, he's seriously looked out for me, and he's changed me - for the better. I don't know what happened that he decided to turn from me the way he did, I have no idea why he chose to become an asshole in the end - but throughout the whole time that we were together, he's really been a good guy. Genuine. Protective. Had my best interest in mind. Whatever changed - I am not going to let it change my memories. And even more so: I am not going to stop my development.
Not only am I currently kind of dating E - though not really dating, but well *grins shyly* - but I am also chatting with a Dom on IRC, GiN. This is really weird, knowing he'll probably read this. But talking with him, and with E, kind of makes me think back of how I was six months ago when I met AD. I was super shy. I couldn't even say something like "I would like you to tie me up, blindfold me and fuck me" - well, to be fair, I struggle with it nowadays too, but I am able to cope. It blows my mind to see who I am becoming - and to get a sense of what I am capable of.
So I've decided to push myself even further. I am not sure if I mentioned it on here before, but I am kind of pushing myself every now and then in harmless situations. Situations that usually would make me uncomfortable - I tackle those now and am always surprised that I come out still standing. And stronger. It's some kind of weird therapy that AD began and that I am now continuing - that is, until the next Dom comes along and will take over, I guess ;-)
There is this one picture of me. It shows me topless in bed. It was a sunday morning, I think, and I had just woken up. AD had texted me. I was in bed, nude, my hair undone, sleepy eyes. And AD told me to take a pic for him. What kind of pic, I asked. "Surprise me." Those were always the times that made me uncomfortable. Surprise me - that means anything. What if he doesn't like what I did? What if he thinks it ugly? Can't he just tell me what to do? That way I would know I please him. - But I guess AD knew that, and that was exactly the point why he always pushed me to surprise him. To make me uncomfortable and grow with it, and because he was curious what I'd come up with. So I got my nipple clamps. And I asked him to give me a number out of 10. - "Seven." (Later on he told me how he loved that I had asked him for a number, because it gave him some control even though I had come up with the clamps by myself) So I adjusted the clamps and took the chain that connects them between my teeth. Looked up in the camera - and took a photo. He loved it. He loved the look on my face - vulnerable and submissive. And I do have to say it's the only nude pic of me that I like. And I remember that morning. I felt good back then. Sexy, even.
I uploaded it to my Fetlife profile. Set the privacy to friends - for now. It was a huge step. It's always been some kind of hard limit for me - but I am proud that I did it. It's one part of my process of coming to terms with myself. I even got positive feedback - which is all the more weird. One day I will be ready to show it to the Fetlife community. And I am looking forward to that day, because it'll mean that I am comfortable in my skin, period.
There is a lot more drama going on at the moment. But I think I'll spare you, for now. I really needed to get these words off of my chest. I feel free to breathe now again, that's a relief.
Guess I am a true writer after all. As soon as the picture was out there, I needed to write. Now I am somewhat at peace.
it's been a while. In my head, there are three post ideas forming and tonight I am going to tackle one of those.
Tomorrow I hopefully will be able to make the appointment for my first tattoo. (See here what it looks like, and here why I want to get it.) I am excited.
Today I came up with an idea for a second tattoo already. I mean, people say it's addictive - but I always shook my head at them. I will not end up being covered in ink. And I would not have thought that I'd ever consider a second tattoo. But I do. This is what it looks like:
LP - Linkin Park
I won't get it on the inside of my wrist, though. That's where wordie is going to be. And it's too prominent a position. I was thinking of the back of my neck. When AD and I discussed the other tattoo, that was where I initially wanted to put it. And LP is going to look lovely there. Plus, it's completely coverable by my hair.
I never wanted to be the girl with a band tattoo. It's crossed my mind a few times already, I've always admired people who got this band logo somewhere on their body (and trust me, there are quite a few who got that tattoo). But it's not unique. I never seriously considered it.
Now that's changed. Because it won't be my first tattoo.
And to me, it's not just a band. Linkin Park is so much more. Their first album was released in 2000. I was 8 years old. I am not sure if it was 2000 or 2001 that I first stumbled across their song Crawling.
I remember that it was my brother's CD (I still wonder how he could have listened to some pretty good music like Linkin Park and Limp Bizkit back then and now listens to the worst trashy shit there is). I remember running to him, begging him to play "that song with the water running down the sink" again. I remember listening to One Step Closer, but because I didn't speak any English, I sang "and I'm abbata Bray!" instead of "and I'm about to break". I had a huge crush on the character (and actor) Bray in the TV series The Tribe. I remember going to the gym hall of my kindergarten and - being all alone, all the other kids playing outside - turning up Hybrid Theory, full volume, head banging and letting out all the emotions that were locked up inside of me. I can still see the room - it's a very vivid memory.
It's been my favorite band ever since. Whenever someone asked me what music I listen to - that was my first response. Even when I listened to charts or other bands on repeat, I always came back to Linkin Park.
I literally grew up with them. And matured with them. Hybrid Theory is so full of anger, so full of "I hate my parents" - or at least it is for me. Meteora is just the same, full of "society doesn't get me", full of "I'm all alone". When I lost my best friend in middle school, I listened to Numb.
Linkin Park saved my life.
It sounds weird saying this - but it's 100% true. When I was 13, 14, 15 years old, I was so full of anger and despair. My father hit me, my brother hated me and I hated him, my father never showed any sign of affection for me, my mother wasn't there and when I was with her it was more of an obligation. No one got me. No one was there for me. I didn't really have friends, I was a loner. I was the weird kid. I had so many issues. I hung out with older teens that were drinking heavily and doing drugs, punks, emos - that's how I spent my time. I never smoked, never did drugs. Even among my friends (though they were no real friends because you never talked about serious things) I stood out.
I was thinking about suicide. Whenever my father raised his hand, I was considering it. I locked up in my room, cried my eyes out, listened to Linkin Park. Thinking I'm about to break. Or I don't know what you're expecting of me, put under the pressure of walking in your shoes. Every step that I take is another mistake to you.
I had a huge crush on Chester Bennington, of course. I googled him (and was devastated to see he was married) and read his bio on wikipedia. It's weird - I just reread it and it's changed completely. The most important paragraph is missing, at least on the German wikipedia page. But I very much remember what it was about. Chester lived with his father who neglected him, felt like his mother let him down (I think you see the parallels). He was sexually abused and ended up as a drug addict. His best friend died of heroine. Chester was with him when he died. After that, he turned his life around and stopped doing drugs.
I remember thinking: Wow, his life is fucked up. Like seriously messed up. But look at him. Look at his talent, at what he's created, at his success. And I pulled my strength from that: If Chester Bennington can survive this shit - so can I. After that, my thoughts changed. I was still considering suicide - but almost immediately after these thoughts, there was this voice telling me "just 4 more years to go until you come of age - you can survive this".
Up to this day, when push comes to shove, that's what I think: If Chester Bennington can be strong enough to survive - so can you. And up to this day, the music I listen to gives away my mood. When I'm not good, I listen to Hybrid Theory or Meteora, when I'm alright, I listen to A Thousand Suns, Minutes to Midnight, Living Things, The Hunting Party - there is one album for every mood.
Over the years, I matured. I grew up. I started to be self-reliant, to distance myself from my father, think I'm worth more than a roach and I don't deserve you saying this, think just because I am not like you doesn't make me be worthless. And Linkin Park's music grew more mature, too. When I was reaching the point in puberty that I wasn't all consumed by myself anymore, actually started to look at what happened in the world, politics and whatnot, Minutes to Midnight was released. I remember being so damn disappointed because the style of the band had changed so much. By now, I am glad it had because if it hadn't, I wouldn't listen to them anymore. Or at least not as my favorite band. But just when I got interested in society and all that's beyond my personal scope, the band got too.
Looking back, I love how they evolved and how I grew with them. When Living Things was released, at first I hated it. There it was again - the band had changed once more. After all the fans had hoped that Minutes to Midnight was just some kind of mistake, that something like Meteora would happen again, A Thousand Suns was a slap in the face. But I grew to love the music. After that whenever a new album was released, I didn't expect anything but looked forward to the journey that they took me on.
So. Yes. It's a band tattoo. And fans will recognize it immediately. But it's so closely linked to my past, to what I've been through - what I have survived -, it's a constant reminder of my strength. My will to fight. After all, if Chester Bennington did it - so can I.
I've decided to put my necklace back on. Not as AD's necklace - well, yes - but also, no. It's ... confusing. I just miss the feeling of it. It's always given me strength. And I am mourning, somehow. After all.
I don't see it as a collar anymore, though. Rather a silent support - because I know AD's with me, and He'd be happy and proud of how I'm doing. I still miss Him. A lot. But it's not taking over anymore, I'm not stuck in bed, unable to move, numb, crying my heart out.
So I'm wearing my subtle necklace again. I'll probably never be able to wear the heavy necklace, though - the connection with that one is too strong. That's really always been a collar - a supporting collar, but a collar nonetheless. I'd be lying if I said I didn't wish Him to come online again and collar me again.
I'm confused. I am moving on, and yet I am not.
Today was the first day that I didn't check Kik if He's been online. I'm fairly sure He'll never come back - for all I'm concerned, He's dead. Because it's the only explanation that I can live with. Every other option is killing me too much, is driving me mad, keeps up hope that some day, maybe some day He might come back. And tell me He's missed me and He's sorry and He'll never be gone again.
But I cannot wait for that day to come. I need to move on. To remember Him fondly, and remember everything He's done for me, every change He's initiated. All the support He's given me. All the times He caught me when I fell.
There's a screenshot that I've been just looking for, of a conversation AD and I had. And I cannot find it. I thought it was gone, and I just broke down in tears (so much for how positive I was, huh?).
I've found it, though. Just in time before I could get really, really bad.
May I wear the heavy necklace today? I want to feel its weight. Why do you want to feel the weight? I guess because it tells me that no matter what happens, if I screw up or it ends up being the worst experience in my life, I have someone to talk to, someone's support, who'll catch me when I fall. You know how to sweet talk me :)
I wasn't sweet talking Him, I was telling the truth.
I can't promise. Hm ... OK. Try hard, okay? Yes, Sir. You know I'm proud of you. Never forget it.
I've wanted to write some about E and how he texted me today and how relieved I was. Because I've met someone a few months ago who wanted to have a friendship with benefits and I would've been in, but after he'd fucked me once he poof'ed. And I was so afraid that this'd happen again with E - but he messaged me today. Though technically he hasn't fucked me yet. But, well ... I guess it's still a good sign.
Anyway. I can't really concentrate on the good right now. How my mood can change in one blog post, huh? Starting being all good, all brave, all "I'm doing fine, thanks" - and ending with mascara smeared all over my face because He is gone. For good. And I will never hear His voice again, I will never hear Him say "good girl" or "smartass" or make inappropriate jokes and typos and all that.
Fuck.
I really don't know what to say except: Damn, I had so much fun this weekend! I can't believe it!
This guy - from now on I am gonna call him E -, we went to a club Saturday night. With several of his friends. It was fun. They're the kind of people who don't judge you, who don't give a fuck about other people's opinions and who just want to have a good time.
It's been quite a while that I've talked about something kinky on here, hasn't it? So I am going to share this story now. My drunk self thinks it's hilarious, my sober self doesn't think it thaaaaaat funny anymore, but luckily I also don't regret it.
So E and I, we were making out in a corner of the club. He is a pretty good kisser (he once even lifted my hands above my head and locked them there, and all I could think was 'Pleeeasse, don't let go!', but sadly he did after like a second) - he's gentle. He did push me against the wall - and there are two persons inside of me right now. One part of me says 'It's good he was this soft and gentle and not urging' - it took a while until he dared to grab my ass, and in between I felt him looking to the sides, checking if anyone was watching us. To be honest - in that moment, I didn't care if anyone was watching. If he would've pushed me down on my knees, I would happily have obeyed. But then again there's this part of me who is really, really glad he did not - that he actually looked out for me and did not want to bring me (and him, most likely) into an uncomfortable position. But, well, there's also naughty me who wouldn't shut up in my head, begging him to do unspeakable things to me. Anyway. Now comes the fun part: we were kissing, my hand in his pants, his hand finally in my pants ('please, please, please slide a finger in, pleeeeaaaseeee'). By then I had already forgotten where we were.
When we opened our eyes, his friend was standing right next to us, a grin all over his face, a beer in his hand. "I am so happy for the two of you!" And then he turned and was gone. - And we laughed, and sadly he then stopped. And made sure I was okay. Which I was. Which I am. I would've never thought I'd ever be.
When the club closed, we went to his friend's apartment ... and, well. Had some fun. All I'm gonna say is that he is a very, very good kisser.
I wonder what's happening. I remember one conversation I had with AD about my self issues and low self esteem. He said He was a guy and therefore well capable of judging if I was gorgeous or not. And I told Him how I was tired of hearing guys on the internet tell me that - because in real life, no one has ever hit on me. Ever. So there must be something wrong with me. And He was seriously confused. I remember Him saying 'Are German guys all nuts?!' He just couldn't understand it. And, to be honest, neither could I. I mean, I do believe that I am not ugly, somewhat average. And to just have not a single guy think me pretty - that's a hard thing to accept. And it made it all the more difficult to deal with my issues and accept the person who's looking back at me in the mirror.
(This is the first time, by the way, that I could remember and write down a conversation I had with AD without bursting into tears. I'm starting to focus on the good things, not the loss.)
Now, all of a sudden, that's changed. I get compliments (and I've learned to accept them and not rationalize them or say something to lessen them), guys look at me - it's a weird feeling. A good weird, though. It's as if I have 'single' tattoo'ed on my forehead - and I guess I do behave differently. I opened up, I talk to and smile at strangers, I am not the introvert that I let myself and my ex make of me. I'm still shy - but I don't let that get in my way.
Why am I writing all of this down? It feels weird to reflect on this so much - but I need to put it into words. I need to remember this. So whenever I question myself, I can read these lines and remember.
Yesterday, at around 1.30am this guy messaged me. We've met when he was collecting money for a charity for animals, and we talked and he was fun and his first name is pronounced the exact way that my last name is pronounced. So we were joking about him being my husband so that he could introduce himself like James Bond, just waaaayy cooler. (Oh gosh, I have to think of Humbert Humbert and that makes it suddenly not so cool anymore xD) I actually didn't think of him as 'dating material' or that he thought of me that way. I just thought he's a nice guy and someone to have fun with. So when he asked, I sent him a picture of my snoopy pajamas telling him I was already ready for bed. But the moment I sent it, I actually ... Well. I actually wanted to go. So I dressed (thanks to a certain someone here who will be reading this, Mr personal stalker :D) and went. But I thought I was joining a group of his friends. It was really cute of him to think of me.
Well. Not a group. Just a woman who turned out to be his mother. - This sounds a lot worse than it was. His mother is really cool. Anyways, it made it a lot more flattering that he thought of me. It wasn't until he paid for my beer that I realized that this was a date.
I messaged a friend of mine that I was at that club and she texted back that she was in the club next door - she joined us then. And when we were in front of the club, we somehow talked about my new haircut and I pulled my hair into a ponytail. And my friend said I should better undo that again, and I did and asked, joking: 'So now I'm not thaaat ugly again, huh?' And she joked back 'not quite that ugly' - and the guy said: 'beautiful.' It was the way he said it, it was ... honest. He took the joke out of it and, well, I got goose bumps. And I couldn't look him in the eye anymore.
We kissed later, on the dance floor. He kisses the same way that he is: soft. Not in a bad way, though. And to every guy out there who may stumble across this: when you kiss a girl, have one hand at the back of her head/neck. Seriously. You have no idea what this does to us. It's not just an amazing feeling when you do it while we kneel in front of you - kiss us like that. Because I honestly forgot where I was and if kissing him was what I wanted originally. It felt good in that moment - and it still makes me smile. And it kept a smile on my lips all the way home.
I should end this post now, saying: We are gonna meet tonight again. And I am excited and nervous and so very much looking forward to it. But there's actually one more thing I need to remember. About guys hitting on me.
I posted something on Facebook in a local group. It was a question whether I could to the elections tomorrow even though I haven't been notified. And this guy answered. And then he answered again: 'check your inbox.' And I did. And he had messaged me how he had checked out my profile and how I seemed nice and if I'd want to go meet for a coffee with him someday. - I will not because I don't think we will match, but it was still quite a nice thing to say. And it made me smile.
So. Now I am gonna end this post. Saying: I really like the person that I am becoming. That I've probably been but haven't let out. Breaking up with my ex was the best thing I could've done, just as dating him was the best thing that could've happened to me 7 years ago.
I'm so tired of being here
Suppressed by all my childish fears And if you have to leave I wish that you would just leave Cause your presence still lingers here And it won't leave me alone
These wounds won't seem to heal This pain is just too real There's just too much that time can not erase
When you cried, I'd wipe away all of your tears
When you'd scream, I'd fight away all of your fears
And I held your hand through all of these years But you still have all of me
You used to captivate me by your resonating light
Now I'm bound by the life you left behind
Your face it haunts my once pleasant dreams
Your voice it chased away all the sanity in me These wounds won't seem to heal This pain is just too real There's just too much that time can not erase
When you cried, I'd wipe away all of your tears
When you'd scream, I'd fight away all of your fears
And I held your hand through all of these years But you still have all of me
I've tried so hard to tell myself that you're gone But though you're still with me
I've been alone all along
When you cried, I'd wipe away all of your tears
When you'd scream, I'd fight away all of your fears
I held your hand through all of these years
I am going to call the tattoo studio tomorrow and hopefully will be able to make an appointment for Friday, 13th November. My birthday.
When AD vanished, I got mad. Because I thought I wouldn't be able to get the tattoo ever. Because it reminded me of Him. Quite much. I also got mad because of how things are, I start to regret meeting Him. Which I shouldn't. And I won't.
Even though I am heartbroken and feeling more pain these days than I can recall feeling ever, even though I am crying a lot and even though the little things can drag me downwards (yesterday someone on IRC said 'smartass', and he's an Aussie too - and that made me think 'damn, you're never gonna hear Him say 'smartass', chuckling at you, appreciative, supportive - that's gone for good'. And that made me cry so hard because I could hear His voice in my head, over and over again) - despite everything, I cannot regret it. I won't allow myself to regret it.
Because I am not the person I was four months ago. I changed. For the better. I embraced myself, I let the girl that's always been inside of me come out - and play. I started being true with myself, genuine. I voiced things I would've never told anyone before, like that fantasy I put into words a few posts ago. I am starting to challenge myself, creating situations that used to make me uncomfortable to master them, come out standing and grow.
There are a lot of things that AD did that got the ball rolling. A lot of changes that he initiated. And I want this tattoo to remind me of this journey.
It will remind me
to always be honest with myself.
to accept compliments and smile.
to never speak little of myself again.
to enjoy every moment of life.
to be honest when dating others.
to not let the opinion of others influence how I see myself.
to value myself.
to remember that I deserve to be feminine and be strong enough to show it.
to remember that I love being weak - but that I also am strong, really.
to look in the mirror and smile because I am beautiful. (And yes, it's hard typing this. But I am. And you are. And the person next door is.)
to remember that I am smart and funny and witty and a great catch.
to never ever settle with being an option ever again. I am a fucking priority.
That's why I am gonna get it. And that's why I love seeing it with every move I make. That's why I keep re-writing it on my wrist till my birthday comes.
Because I changed. I grew. I became stronger. I found the bravery to accept that I like being weak and fragile and feminine and that that's completely okay. Because it doesn't mean that I am not strong. It means I am strong enough to allow myself being weak.
I don't know if you'll ever read this. I don't know what happened. I do not know if you're alright or alive even.
And it's killing me.
It's weird to have something online throw me off so much - but we knew it all along, didn't we? That's the reason why we chose the [AD]-collar, indicating a real life ownership. We clicked and it changed my life. We both also knew that it had to end some day - I just would never have imagined it would end like this.
You haven't been online since Thursday, 8th October. I need to write this all down once. I need to cry the shit out of me now, so that I possibly can let it go. I wish I wouldn't tear up on the street, reliving a conversation we had or remembering something you made me do. I wish I didn't have to think of you so much. And I wish tears weren't running down my face as I type this.
You came online on Thursday, letting me know that you were working late and couldn't stay to chat. We were finally good again. We were having fun again. I was Yours again, I felt the collar and everything that goes with it. We had found our step again. 'Kik me on your way home?', I asked. And you said 'will do. Talk soon x Bye for now x'. And that's it. You went offline and you didn't come back.
At first, I was pissed. You broke your word. You let me down. You promised you'd be back online and you did not. By Friday, I was worried. Because all my messages were marked 'sent', not 'delivered' and not 'read'. I began to think that something must've happened. Images of car crashs filled my head. I was so worried, I even checked the Sydney police twitter newsfeed and came up empty. That's when I remembered. You sent me one picture once, saying it was from work and that you were comfortable sharing it because of that. You never turned on your camera because of your wife. I accepted that. But when I was worried, I remembered Catfish. I remembered that it was possible to google images, and I did. To find out that the picture doesn't belong to someone named Steven, and that other person doesn't have the profession you said you had. I figured you didn't lie about your name because you had made me write it on my body. And we talked about your work, too. So you lied about the picture. - I got mad. I felt betrayed. A betrayal so deep and bad that I cannot compare it to anything I've ever experienced. My world shattered. I trusted you with my life, I had always been genuine, I'd told you more than any other person. And you lied to me. I mean, you had lied to me in the beginning when you didn't tell me you were married. But that was understandable, and as you realized we clicked, as we got more and more attached to each other, you came clean. And I forgave you. Because I understood. But if there ever had been a good time to come clean about the picture, that was the moment. We talked about it. And you told me why you chose those pictures. You could've said 'that pic doesn't show me', I would've understood. I wouldn't even have needed a new one - it never was about looks. But you never came clean. You lied to me. And I wondered what else you lied about.
I broke down. Literally. I cried my eyes out. I was worried, I felt betrayed, naive, fooled, stupid. And most of all, I missed you. I miss you. There are little pieces of conversations popping up in my head. How you told me you'd never leave me be. How you said that this was the most enjoyable, rewarding and honest D/s 'thing' you've ever had, despite your real life D/s-relationships. How you encouraged me to be open with you. How you never judged me. - You know, I am a very forgiving person. And even though I need answers, even though I need to know why you lied to me, it's already water under the bridge. Because everything else you did, every word you said and every action you made, was never not in my best interest. I remember how, the first time that I took my shirt off in front of the camera, you asked me again and again if this really was what I wanted to do, if I was absolutely certain. You always gave me the time till I was ready. And you joked about it. You said something like 'Are you sure? (Am I mad?! :P)' You never wanted to make me uncomfortable. Before I sent you the first pictures for you to keep, you asked me to sleep over it and if I was still sure in the morning, I should send them. You looked out for me. Remember that picture you made me took last week? The one you told me to delete after looking at it myself? And how you said how much self control it took you to not make me share it? Because you knew I wasn't ready to share it.
I remember all of this. And it makes me forget about the lie. I miss you.
It's Wednesday now. Almost a week has passed and you still haven't come online. My messages are still marked 'sent'. I still wake up and it's like a fist in the stomach. No necklace. No [AD]. I am alone. On my own.
I don't think you'd just turn from me. I think something happened. But maybe I just need to tell myself that because the other option - that you would just leave without letting me know - hurts too much. Maybe I need to kid myself. But looking back at all the conversations, remembering who you are - I can't believe you'd just poof. Unless something happened.
I need to stop checking Kik every other minute. I need to stop hoping you will message me. I need to ... move on. Even though it hurts. Even though it feels like cheating. I need to accept that you are gone. That I may never get answers, never speak to you again. I love you. I would've never thought it's possible, but I do. It's tearing me apart.
This is goodbye. I need to make this a final goodbye. I need to pretend you died. Because if I keep hoping, I'll never move on and it will keep tearing me apart. It will kill me every day.
I'm not good. It's tough. Today on IRC, I took off my collar. Now I'm just greatchen. It hurt more than I would've thought. I was so used to the gretchen[AD] that it's ... beyond words to describe.
Still no message from AD. No sign since Thursday. That's unlike Him. I'm more than worried. And I need answers.
Plus, I caught a cold.
You may not hear from me in a while. I need to ... well. To figure out how to go on, how to function again. I miss Him so much, it's beyond words.
I love the colors come to life. The trees in red and yellow. Leaves on the ground. In the air.
A cold breeze tucking at your hair. The sun warm on your skin. This special autumn-warmth. The sky a clear blue.
I try to concentrate on that. I really do. But it's hard when everything around me reminds me of AD. And when the scarf around my neck can't conceal the fact that there is something missing: my necklace. My collar. My safe haven.
It's hard to find my way back. To look out for myself again. To be on my own again.
Not knowing is killing me. I need answers. What happened? Is he alright? Safe? - And why did he lie to me? Is there something else he lied about? Was any of it real?
AD stood me up.
And they allegedly cancelled my manicure appointment. Just that I never got the message. And my nails are far from decent looking.
First world problems. Still.
... to blog from the office. Thanks, Blogger, for this handy tool of submitting posts via e-Mail!
Five minutes of girl talk: I am going to get my nails done today! Woohoo! (Yes, I have to laugh and roll my eyes at myself for this sentence. You are not alone with this reaction.)
I've been working in the food-related industry since I was 18 years old, and in Germany we have very strict rules of no nail polish and no acryl nails. I am girly enough to care a lot about my nails - there's just no better feeling than long and neat nails. And I also do have to admit that I love teasing guys with long nails, and maybe leave a few scratches ... I also love the sound when I drum my fingers on the table with long nails. - I just love long nails. Not too long, of course. Anyways. I do have a dog. And I am not too oity-toity to use my hands doing whatever - so my natural nails break. Plus, I tend to rip off my nails when I'm upset with myself. First level of self-harm, so to say. Because it takes a second to break a nail, and weeks for it to grow back.
So once a month I go to my nail stylist and let her do my nails and support them with acryl so that they don't break. And today is that day! :) It's annoyingly girlish, but I am looking forward to having all neat and good-looking nails again <3
And while we are already at it: Tomorrow I'll go to my hair stylist and get my hair done. I trust her with every cell of my body, every time I go there I leave with a different cut, and each time it looks stunningly good (for me, that is). I'm like 'Hey, I was thinking of this and that', then she looks at me through the mirror 'no, that's NOT what you want. We'll do it like this and that. Can you picture it?' - 'No. But do it anyways.' And then she's delighted like a little kid because she gets to have her way with my hair - and I leave the studio a different person. Last time she said 'Kerstin, you're like a doll. With that face. It just takes tiny changes and you have a different look, you're another person.' For some reason, I like that quite much. I am planning to grow back my hair, though (it's about shoulderlength now), and have her dye it brunette-ish with highlights. But that's my plan - let's see what she'll do with my hair tomorrow :D AD gave me some restrictions, though: neither purple nor green. Too bad. Lol. (Though I had purple hair already - and it looked amazing. But who am I to argue with my Dom, huh? Especially when I want Him to approve of my tattoo soon-ish.)
Speaking of tattoos. Uuuuuuuuuuuuhhhhhh!!! I went to a tattoo studio yesterday and talked to a tattoo artist and she was impressed by the font I chose for the tattoo. She's fond of the motive, and she sketched it for me - and I absolutely LOVE it. It's very very close to the picture I uploaded here. I cannot wait to have her tattoo it - I am SO GODDAMN EXCITED. I absolutely love it. She also named a price (100€), it's less than I expected. And she says it covers the whole tattoo. Some of those lines are very thin and may have to be tattooed twice. It's comforting to know that she'll take fully care of it. She also seems pretty nice. I have a good feeling - and I think that's the most important thing about getting a tattoo.
I bought a thin waterproof Sharpie yesterday and drew the tattoo on my skin. I can't stop looking at it. It's not nearly as neat as her sketch, of course, but it ain't bad, either. I re-did it this morning because the color was already slightly fading (can't wait for it to be permanent!!!) - I just hope AD gives His permission soon. I really want this. So darn much.
I also wanted to rearrange my bedroom for a couple of days now, and never got to it. I did do it last night - and started at 10.30pm. Seems legit, right? Well. I was done at around 1am - and of course it didn't work out the way I had planned it to work. Either my bed is too big or my bedroom is too small; I may be biased but I vote for the latter. Anyways. I rearranged it now and I'm quite fond of the solution. Now I just need to find a place for my comfy reading chair ... which will be quite a task. Because there really is no space. Ugh. But I'll get to it tonight. Make that apartment finally mine :-)
Have I mentioned I'm all excited about my tattoo? I did not? I AM SO EXCITED ABOUT MY TATTOO!!! ;-)
xoxo
Kiwi (who better hushes before she talks some more about her tattoo. That she's really excited about, by the way)
P.S.: I try not to worry about food too much. Or about no food, more accurately. Haven't eaten today yet, am at Starbucks meeting ex-colleagues of mine - and can't even make myself have a nonfat latte. Darn.
so let's try again. As I mentioned, I got to talk to AD. Another topic we touched was my tattoo. I've always liked tattoos, but not enough to want to have one myself. And I never knew what motive to get, because (let's face it) most are not very original. And seeing someone have 'family' tattooed on his arm makes me roll my eyes. Or butterflies. Or stars. Or musical scores. This is so mainstream 'I want to be individual' that it makes me raise my eyebrows and go like 'seriously?'.
But I came up with the perfect tattoo for me, and I really want it. As I mentioned in one of my first posts, I am a Wordie. It's a word that I came up with together with AD when we were looking for a term to describe me. It's linked to the term 'foodie', and it doesn't exist. But I love it.
Originally, I wanted to have a tattoo at the back of my neck that just very simply said
'wordie n.
a person who ...'
- but I couldn't come up with a definition that was both accurate, not boring, slightly witty and funny. Well, the perfect definition, that is. I just can't come up with it. And I struggled so hard that AD and I came up with a joke that I would end up with a tattoo like
'wordie n.
a person who ...
a person who ...
a person who ...
a person who ...
well, you get the idea'
and have that tattoo cover all of my back because there are so many definitions. - See how desperate I am?
But: I've made peace with the idea of not coming up with a perfect definition. And that's fine. I settled for another idea instead: have 'wordie' on the inside of my right wrist in cursive handwriting, some nice font that does not look like the usual tattoo-script. I've actually looked at some fonts online and found one I like, and I'd love to ask a tattoo artist to convert it into a tattoo design to look at it, hang it over my bed and sleep over it a couple of weeks. Then go there and get it done.
But guess what? I have a Dom. And He does not want me to rush into it. He is fine with the idea of me getting a tattoo - of me getting this tattoo, to be more specific. Because it suits me, it's a physical representation of the essence of my being. I also love it because we came up with it together.
So that's another reason why I want it. It will always remind me of that time. Of Him. Not in a 'Oh AD'-swooning kind of way, but rather reminding me of how He set things in motion, encouraged me to embrace the person that I am, that's always been inside of me. It'll always remind me to be true with myself.
But AD won't let me rush into it. He won't give me permission to get the tattoo until He decided I was ready. Which will take a couple of months. I wouldn't be surprised if I'd end up wishing to get it next year this time. - But I also like that He is watching out for me. That He cares and doesn't want me to get something I may regret in ten years time. As He so nicely put it: 'You've been with a guy for 6 1/2 years and thought you would marry him. That's about as serious as it gets, and you still broke up.' So no tattoo for me. Yet. I'll keep reminding Him, though :P
'Hey babe' - 'Hey. Made a decision on my tattoo yet, Sir?' Something along those lines :P
Doesn't explain why I named this blog post 'Wanderlust' though, does it?
The reason for that is that I am going to travel around a bit. I've always wanted to go to Australia and I've never done that. Or go to London again. Scotland. The USA. - I have some budget restraints, of course, but that's about it. Because I caught myself thinking 'well, you can't travel alone' and I was like 'why not?!' I am single. Yes. I don't have to make compromises, I am self-reliant and I have to answer only to myself. So why should that keep me from travelling? Of course I am scared. I am not a person to make friends easily. I am shy and I am distant and I have trouble befriending strangers. I am not like some friends of mine who just enter a pub and start a conversation and end up being friends with half of the pub. It's always something that bothered me, though. I'd like to be more open and communicative and be able to meet new people without wondering in advance if they'll like me or what I might say. And, goddamnit, just because I am single doesn't mean I can't do anything without friends! I have two friends that I could think of who might travel with me - both in a relationship. And neither of them the perfect fit because of different interests. So I'd end up making compromises again.
No.
I've decided to not let that stop me. I am single. And this is the perfect time to get to know new people. And even if I don't, I can travel another city alone and have fun. My fun does not depend on others. Simple as that.
Australia is quite a big shot, though. And I won't have the money to go there till next autumn, earliest. But I want to go somewhere now. - So I've decided to start easy. Go to London. I've been there already in 7th grade, but I don't remember much. I can get the flight and a B&B/hostel for 4-5 nights for less than 200€ already - and I think I'll go in November, the week after my birthday. It'll be a good trial - a fun city, not too far away, to find out if I am suited for travelling alone and how good at making new friends I am.
I'm excited!
I bought two travel guides for London and I will most likely spend the rest of my day going through them. I also bought one for hiking in Scotland - I think I'll do that next summer. With my dog.
I'm so excited! I'm open to new experiences, I want to explore things - I won't be held back by anyone, not even by myself!
I am so much better emotionally. Can't say that about my diet, but I'm working on it and I know I will be fine. Eventually.
I can't concentrate on work - at all -, so I am gonna type a few words here instead and work from home later. - There are actually several things I want to touch today, and since one of those topics is more 18+ than others, I have decided to divide it into parts.
Here we go:
Not only have AD and I found our step again and chats are more fun than anything these days, but we actually got to ooVoo yesterday! (Like Skype) Which completely took me off guard because He usually could only come online when He was working from home (which is in the middle of the night my time), and it was 1pm, and when He texted me He said He couldn't stay long. So we chatted casually, making the best of the short amount of time we had - and then He asked 'You home?' - 'Yes. Why?' - 'Let's ooVoo ;-)'
You cannot imagine my face! It was like O_O I actually don't have any words for it, which is unusual for a Wordie. His wife was meeting a friend - which gave us some wonderful 2 1/2 hours. Of course I turned as shy as I could turn, hiding in my shirt again, unable to say a word. In the beginning, I used to hide under towels or something, and it was fun to hear Him laugh at me going back to that strategy again. Just that by now He was able to simply say 'Look at me' or 'sit upright', and I did. He also made me talk about a fantasy that I have discovered recently. It's weird to look back on my development as a sub, exploring my submission. If you would've told me six months ago that I would play in front of a camera - being the only one showing -, trusting another person enough that He wouldn't take pictures or advantage of me, telling Him my most inner thoughts, sharing my desires with Him ... if you had told me that I couldn't enjoy touching myself without His permission anymore, that I would crave Him to look at me, that I'd imagine His cum all over and in me, being left on the bed, tied up, while He got dressed and enjoyed the view ... that I'd want Him to be rough with me - I would not have believed you.
And now there's this fantasy. Which is against so much of what I believe in ... and yet it's there. And it is what it is. And AD made me tell Him, and He didn't judge me. - I am a very loyal person. I think cheating is the worst thing you can do and it's just genuinely wrong (no lectures on AD being married, please - I know, I know, and I feel guilty often enough). I would never cheat, and I would never like to be in a somewhat open relationship where it's okay to screw others. For me, if you're with someone, you are with that person - and only that person. I couldn't handle a Dom who's got another sub next to me, and I would feel horrible if He'd ask me to take another sub. Am I not good enough?
But there's this fantasy. About my Dom chosing another Dom to fuck me. To use me. While He is in the room, watching. And I don't get a say. Neither in who fucks me, nor what He does to me. It's all up to my Dom. There are several versions of that fantasy, too. One in which I enjoy it, in which the other Dom fucks me for my pleasure, too, and my Dom enjoys me enjoying the other Dom. But that's not the one I favor. The one that arouses me most is picturing my Dom telling the other one to fuck me mercilessly, rough, inflict pain on me, use me. And my Dom sits in the corner and watches, and I cry, being tied to the ceiling, fucked from behind, and I face my Dom and He sees my tears and enjoys the power He has over me. - It's not that I enjoy sex that makes me tear up and it's not that I want to be fucked by a bunch of people - it's the level of submission that arouses me. Having no say. Submitting completely. Give up the right to chose who fucks me, and how.
It's a fantasy. One that I'm not sure I want to see come to life. And I am struggling to accept it, still. Prejudices, fear, what is right and what is wrong - society's left a mark on me. But it's in my head. And it tells me that my submission may be stronger than I thought all along.
xoxo
Kiwi
(who'll work on the other post now that'll be more innocent)
seems to become a habit to blog twice a day - and only 4 hours have passed since I started with my first post.
AD was online in the meantime.
And I am so freaking happy. Because I'm back. I've been seriously spamming Him yesterday (I just counted: 42 messages, including 8 pictures), and as He quite correctly put it: I've got my 'spark' back ;-) I also messaged Him a paragraph of that earlier blog post, about what I miss (Him having His way with me, to cut it short). And it's been the first time in like two or three weeks that I've included something physical (in combination with some pics: I wore these cute-hot garters yesterday, with floral print - cute when you saw them with the skirt, hot when you knew it were garters).
'It's good to have you back, babe.'
It's so good to be back. I am so glad I am here again, I am so glad He sticked around, I am so glad He still wants me - and all of that. I am seriously close to tearing up, and if I wasn't at work I might have shredded one or the other tear. Because I am so happy and so grateful.
(I know you are reading this, OC: You are so very wrong. I have to tell you once again, you are. So. Very. Wrong.)
'I've missed You. It's good to be back :) *snuggles into You*'
'It's good to have you back :) *holds you tight*'
You might say now: Well, of course He's glad you're back. It means He gets kinky texts and pics. But that's not the main reason He's glad I am back, and not the main reason I am glad I am back. It's because I am comfortable enough again. I trust Him again. I had no reason not to trust Him - but I somehow didn't, not sufficiently at least. Spamming Him throughout my day felt ... forced. Like a script. It was more like a tedious duty than really wanting to share something with Him.
But we've moved passed that. He didn't drop me - which would've been understandable, because I was really ... difficult. But I am not His toy. He cares for and about me, and that's why He sticked around for weeks, having serious discussions every second day, having me complain and being not really open.
We had a great chat today. It was awesome. And I have a letter on my left wrist. His initials. I'm left-handed, so every time I do something, I see that letter. And it reminds me of His comfort and His support and the warm, fuzzy feeling I have when I'm with Him. After our chat, it also reminds me of gagging, being held down and taken ;-)
I am His. I finally am His again. And that's a feeling beyond words.
