Ache for me

She gave me another one of her shirts to wear today. Something simple enough, but the plunging neck line on it was a very welcome tease.

Making her lose her head from want for me is one of my favourite games. It makes me feel like Venus, all sex and desire, raw want. It’s intoxicating, it’s a mind game I love to play with her.

But then she comes down in a little skirt. A shirt that leaves the skin of her waistline exposed. And I see her with my hands. After all she is mine to paint as I like with them.

I can do this all day. Giddy from the tremble in her breath, emboldened by the little moans she makes, her lips against my ear.

She is my gorgeous toy. My good girl. My little doll in her pretty clothes.

I want to sink my teeth in her shoulder. Slide my tongue over her waist. Rip the flimsy shirt off her and squeeze her nipples just to make her moan.

But I settle for admiring her kneeling in the kitchen. So small and beautiful as I drink her in from a few steps back.

But I’m thirsty for her. And I never pass up on a good tease my baby session. So I head up to the bedroom and drop my clothes. Step in to my work out shorts and her skimpy little sports bra and come back down.

Her turn to watch me. Exactly as I like it. Ache for me. As the sweat forms on my body I get lost in thoughts of her licking it off.

When I’m done she has my water. I bend down to fold up the treadmill, ignoring it. Look at me. Ache for me.

Sweetly I take the water and sit out in the yard letting the air dry my skin.

She is told to come up with me when I get undressed before my shower. I push her to her knees and use her sweet mouth.

Then I look at her, filled with desire and passion for me and softly laugh.

She is mine. I am cruel. But I love her so. My shower is wonderful, made more from the knowledge of her struggle. Ache for me. Burn for me. I’ll consume all that you are. And you will give me everything.

Ownership

“I love this,” she says. Her head is on my chest and the weight of her is a siren guiding me back to sleep.

Outside the rain is falling. The house is quiet as daddy has gone out for the day. It’s just us. My heart keeps pace under her ear. My hand finds her hair, then her back.

I can feel her breath. Beneath my fingers her bones shape her skin, holding the spirit of the woman in who has enchanted mine.

“I love you so much,” I murmur. Pressing her close to me as inside I glow with pride.

It’s been a short time together but she gives me so much. She meets every challenge, accepts her various tasks, stays. And I absolutely adore her for it.

My stomach grumbles with hunger. It’s creeping close to noon but she feels so good wrapped around me, my mind begins to waffle about getting up or not.

Then she is kissing me, resting the length of her body against mine. There is a blanket between us, but my body still burns for her.

She goes to get up. She knows I’m hungry and wants to cook for me. She is such a good girl.

But I pull her back down. Sweeping the blanket that separated our skin to the side. Pulling her body in to mine. Letting the burn of desire turn to flames that claim us both.

She whimpers my praises. While she moves inside of me. While I tremble under her. The softness of her voice has me close to release. It’s the way she cries my title that sends me tumbling. Grasping her like a parachute as I fall. The world vanishes as we dissolve around each other.

A short while later she is in the bathroom. I’m kissing her against the counter and I’m feeling myself sinking in to her again. It’s hard not to. But I place my hand on her cheek.

I know what I want to do, but I need to confirm she is receptive to it. I tap her cheek with my hand.

Her lips part against mine and it’s like I’m taking her in to me. I wait. I want her to tell me she wants this.

When she does I feel my thighs grow wet. I feel my legs waver. It’s how she isn’t quite begging, yet the desperation is on the surface.

When she says please it’s all I can do to not moan. One swift slap and she moans in my place. I’m pressing her to the counter, molding the length of my body to her.

As best I can. Her excitement is evident. She is ready to go, glorious in her want for me. All from a little slap. Something she once associated with punishment, displeasure, fear.

I’m a mixture of things in that moment. Waffling about taking her right there and then because I can. Full of pride for how she has grown with me. Captivated from how she looks at me.

Ultimately I decide to turn and leave the room. Passing up on the glory of her body feels like a crime but I do it anyways. Because it’s mine to do with as I wish, when I wish.

She is mine.

Fit

Writings these days have focused on my girl. I’m constantly sharing pictures of the lovely meals she cooks with family and friends. Most nights we stay up talking or sharing a bath, seeing her little side open up has been beautiful. So much has happened. It’s hard not to leave anything) out,

I gave her a stuffed panda for our one month. It used to be one of mine. She surprised me by giving me a ring. Something to echo the bond of the collar on her neck. It’s gorgeous and I love it.

It’s easy to leave things out.

Daddy has been feeling it, the other night we had a fight. Most of yesterday was a mixture of tears and harsh words and the defensive dance of protecting oneself.

As always when it passed we came back together though. The healing has us stuck to one another’s side as we wait for wounds to close. It’s tender as it always is. These things always are. But we stay constant to one another. Amidst changing roles. Growth is never comfortable but we all go through it together.

The evening was much better. A wonderful steak dinner my girl cooked us, snuggles and tv shows, and a nice bath to close the night. I fell asleep between them. Safe. Calm. Healing with daddy helped. The bath with my girl did as well. It’s all of us together that sets everything right.

I would be lost without the safety of him, disorientated without her as a constant by my side. They fill different parts of me and together make it all fit.

Gentle cultivation

I was holding her in my lap as I often do. I sat in the chair where daddy’s before and my current one have held me in their lap. I’ve always associated it with being little. I spent many hours rocking in it while holding my actual babies.

She murmured something I didn’t catch. Her head was burrowed in the crook between my neck and shoulder making her soft voice muffled.

But when she repeats herself I catch her words.

“I love you so much mommy.”

I don’t know how to reply so I stroke her hair and hold her tighter.

Everything with her has been a gentle cultivation. Introducing her to polly, peeling back her defensive layers, uncovering her mind, exposing her little. It’s delicate work, but the rewarding kind.

In these high stress times the ability to slip in to little space under the watch of a safe keeper is priceless. Just as the ability to kneel and let it revitalize you. You can resurface feeling calm when the world falls in to chaos and unpredictable terror.

She spoke of colouring a picture while sucking her thumb. As I held her I fell deeper in love with her. The strong woman who is allowing herself to be small. It’s humbling I’m the place she calls home. That I get to watch and protect, shape, mold, enhance, teach. It’s beautiful to have been given these rights as her dominant. Now I can add mommy to the list as well.

Anchors

Things changed so swiftly. This virus has knocked everything on its head. While I’m navigating it with my lovers beside me we are all feeling the strain of it.

I finally broke down last night from the weight of it all. I can’t control people who need to work. I can’t keep everyone safe. All I can do is hope I don’t end up knowing someone who was really sick, or worse died from this thing.

I give warning after warning, I move around the house a ball of stress and energy.

I fuck. I eat. I talk. I cry. I cling to the new normal of my girl and the daily routines and tasks she does. I snuggle daddy a lot. I need hair pets and lap cuddles and people telling me it will be ok.

I miss my kids but I’m scared they will get sick when they come home. I want to get out of the house but I’m terrified to go further then a short wok. The thought of my boy going to work makes me want to puke. Letting my girl leave to pay her bills and pick up things from her place makes me want to wrap around her and never let go.

But I can’t control everything. People need to work. People need to pay bills. I need to just breathe day to day. But it’s getting harder. I feel the elastic band of anxious energy getting tighter and tighter.

And my lovers know it, sense it, try to lessen it. What good is a frazzled dominant? How care free is a frazzled baby girl?

Every night she rubs my feet and back. Sometimes she will just sit with me for hours and let me talk, and talk, letting her designates tasks take a back seat to me and my needs.

He helped me set up animal crossing on the switch, giving me something to get lost in. He pets my hair and is more forward about asking for daddy snuggles.

They both fuel me. And I’m grateful for them both. Because I really do feel like I’m starting to lose my grip on everything. I’m starting to realize life isn’t going to be the same any more. That everything is changing and it’s terrifying.

Yet I fall asleep surrounded. With one on either side like anchors. I’m stressed and frazzled and scared, but I’m nourished. 

0 to 10

I woke up this morning without my girl beside me.

Unbeknownst to me she had been having a internal fight while I slept, it led to our first external one.

I woke up without her beside me and all I felt was anxiety, was she ok? Is this my fault? What if she left?

It’s a pathetic response. Most definitely not dominant, but it’s me to my core for better or worse.

I had to send daddy to see where she was. I couldn’t bring myself to get up out of bed. I was frozen in my panic, and yet in my mind all I could hear was my internal voice telling me how fucking useless I was in that moment.

When he told me she was sleeping on the couch, my next question was is she breathing? While I wrapped around him and tried not to cry my mind told me how stupid that question was.

We talked. And I’m sore. She has washed all my walls and is doing her daily expected tasks. Life goes on.

I know to well the feel of needing to overcompensate when you fuck up as a submissive. I told her do as she needs but take care of herself.

It’s quiet here. She sits on the chair away from me. I couldn’t bring myself to wrap my arms around her but I’ve given her a few kisses, some quick hair pets.

I’m not ready to thaw. I’ll break and cry and I don’t want to share in that vulnerability, not yet.

She knows her error. Our conversation although heated served it’s point. It’s just about the amount of time I’ll need to lower my guard, to like my wounds, to stop feeling awful.

I know I did nothing wrong. Yet somehow I feel the effects of it. I know she does as well.

Time, I guess.

Bringing up children in a polly family, just the stability they need

Earlier today I posted on Facebook looking for resources on how to strengthen my polly family.

I was met with snarky ass comments. I was made to feel stupid for asking about “that” during these times. It was implied that by having two partners live with me I was creating a foundation of chaos for my young children.

It hurt. It pissed me off. It raised my hackles.

I could have ranted on the post. But I kept my responses polite. I didn’t really defend myself. I shouldn’t fucking have to.

My son is 6. He knows mommy can love more then one person, and I hope as he grows he won’t be made to feel defective if he ever finds himself having love for more then one partner. The key to it, is honesty,

As long as everyone consents and agrees, do what makes you happy. Don’t judge those who have different ways of finding their happiness that doesn’t look like yours. Show kindness.

I am open with my little ones. They ask about collars, I tell them what they mean in ways they can understand. They ask about loving two people and I tell them it’s ok. They ask if girls can marry girls and I tell them they can. I will never be the type to “protect them” from peoples ignorance. I will always welcome and answer their questions to the best of my ability.

This is building my foundation with them as their mother. I don’t just earn it as a right because I birthed them. I want them to respect me, to feel safe with me, to know they can come to me with anything and not have to fear my judgment.

This is stability, it’s me on the couch with my girl on one side and my boy on the other. It’s them asking if they could have a step dad AND a step mom without having to hesitate on asking the question. It’s in showing them they can have whatever they need for them to be happy. As their mother it’s the best form of stability I can give them.

It’s in conversations with my partners while they are in the room so they can listen to learn how to handle relationship conflict in a healthy way. It’s in showing them it’s ok to be playful and loving in all different shapes. It’s in showing them men can cry and girls can be strong.

If this doesn’t sound like healthy stability I don’t know what is.

Why I cook with my submissive, and the power in numbers

I’m standing at the sink with a potato peeler in my hand. Beside me she is mixing the coating for the chicken nuggets we are going to make for dinner for the kids.

“I feel bad for leaving you in here,” she says. She has been going all day. She made a wonderful breakfast for me n and the kids, she tidied and served coffee, she offered her body for my pleasure. She wants to head out to have a few puffs on her vape.

Of course I tell her I’ll be ok, as I peel the potatoes. She hesitated but eventually heads out. She isn’t gone long, 2 minutes at most.

When she returns we talk as we both work side by side. This is the second meal we have made together I believe.

One of the first days she was here we made cookies together at the same time that we prepped our first meal. It was wonderful.

The part that surprised me though was her gratitude for such a simple act. She said it wasn’t something most dominants would do, and my heart hurt for her to think of the ones who had her before me.

Doing these things with her is a binding agent for our foundation as well as our dynamic. Not only does it remind her of how I will always see her as my equal, but also that I am a active and involved partner, as well as dominant.

Navigating this polly triad has been tough for us all. If I get caught in the spiral of stress I can lose track of all the positives.

Like how it’s daddy who makes these moments I see as so precious with her to happen. When the kids are here they would be all but impossible.

But with the three of us it allows for the beauty of strength in numbers. We can create these moments for one another. Just as my girl did the other night when she said to let daddy rub my back and take some time with him.

I know it’s hard for everyone. I know we are all still learning to trust in one another and recognize it’s ok to lean on one another, not just me as the partner. I’m working to educate myself on live in polly to help make things easier for my adored ones. It’s a process of ups and downs, but every day we get there a little more.

Unintended pain

When I purchased the collar I was anxious she wouldn’t like it. But when I put it around her neck she held me and cried.

I thought the pink leather would look adorable on her, and serve as a place marker while she earned the eternity one.

But I didn’t consider how often I would end up breaking her. Every time I take it off for her to have a shower.

It’s torture for her, she keeps herself composed but I wonder how she is once under the solitary spray of the water.

I’ve told her when I remove it nothing changes. That she is still mine. That I will put it on her as soon as she is out. But she still struggles.

I want to make it easier for her, I want to make showers something she doesn’t dread.

The solution would be a eternity collar. Something she wouldn’t have to take off. But these things take time.

While I never want to be the cause of her pain, seeing her make her way through it for me fills me with pride in her and her love and service.

Last night we went to bed late. Some time past 4. Even though we knew it was late and we needed the sleep, we entered in to play.

I asked her to grab my toy and she told me to wait a second.

Lost in her I didn’t think. I slapped her and said she was being disobedient. I said it in a light tone. Thinking the smack and the words would spur her to move, excite her further.

But I was wrong.

Her voice, the fragility of it, I can’t stop hearing it in my mind.

Suddenly I wasn’t playful. I froze as she said no she wasn’t, as she sounded close to breaking, as I realized my error.

I wrapped around her, murmuring apologies over and over.

I was mortified with myself. Wanting to cry from the guild I felt for my lack of thought and care. Knowing how deeply those words would have cut me from that side of the slash.

Holding her head on my chest i stroked her hair and called her a good girl over and over. I held back my tears and pressed my nose to her hair as I told her how I hadn’t thought, that I was wrong to use those words, that I was deeply sorry.

Somewhere I waited for her to shut down from me. To raise up the defensive walls, but she never did.

Eventually I blanketed her with my body. Needing to make things right without words. She told me she was ok, that I had just from petting her hair. But I didn’t accept it and took her inside me while wrapping my arms around her.

This was my love in motion. My shame and guilt, and I moved slowly as I covered her face with kisses and whispered to her in the dark.

Sleep claimed us after. I held her like a life line. Proud for her acceptance of my flaws. This acceptance of me, the good and the bed, when I make mistakes, it’s the driving force or the intent of her service. It’s in her faith in me when she offers herself again and again. It’s in her conviction when she dies what is expected of her, even when I’ve made a mistake.

Bubble of us

How much is to much?

I’m consumed by you. Your body and lips and tongue. Your hands and mind and spirit.

We woke up at 10 this morning. The amount of times you were inside of me blurred. Suddenly it was 6 pm.

Time slips away from us. Hours feel like seconds.

You ate me out for over 2 hours. I took you from on top of your lap, on my back, on my side, on my hands and knees.

I growled, screamed, moaned, whispered, sang your praises.

I fell asleep exhausted beside you. Wrapped around
You in the after glow. I can’t keep my hands off of you. I can’t keep my body from joining to you.

I adore you. For everything you do. How
You serve. How you fuck. How you love. How you think. For every little thing you are and the ones your only just discovering.