Thorns

I’m sitting here crying again. Sometimes I wonder if I’m a emotional masochist.

I keep thinking if I work the right angle she will come home. But she resists me, reminds me over and over she will never share me. Not with him, not with anyone.

I would give it all up, if I wasn’t with him. But I will NOT leave him for her. And so I lose her.

I hate it.

I spend so much time crying. So many hours wrapped around her stuffy she gave me and her pillow.

Everything holds echos of her.

Soon daddy is going back to work. It’ll be me and the kids and a new puppy and the long lonely hours of the day. Hours she used to spend with me.

Now she hates I share a bed with anyone but her. I’m over here feeling how empty it is without her.

It has to get easier, but I keep holding on. It’s like clinging to a stem of thorns.

Submission and the crux of obedience. Why is it so elusive?Submission and the crux of obedience. Why is it so elusive?

I’ve noticed something through my time on this side of the slash.

Obedience only goes so far.

For me, when you combine a relationship and a ds dynamic it’s essential. Otherwise it just feels like a relationship with a compliant partner who enjoys parts of submission. Eventually the power transfer feels like a hat you take off and on, or rather is forced to be removed.

I am the type of dominant to forgo punishment for a level conversation with my partner. I expect communication where we both respectfully say our bit. I adore my submissive having their own mine. I want to know it well.

But once the words have been exchanged, and the views have been shared, it’s mine that I expect to be followed.

This isn’t to say I won’t often blend the views of my partner in to it. My people pleasing ways and my own subby bits often do this. It makes me happy to see my partner happy.

But here is the issue. When I don’t do that, when I assert MY way, there always seems to be a struggle. More often then not the things I push are to help the submissive grow, and yet they resist.

Without a punishment style I don’t have a leg to stand on. Suddenly a powerful dynamic feels like a game of make believe, and I’m left floundering to feel like I actually have sway over this person.

Submission isn’t always about doing a list of domestic chores. It’s not always about kneeling and aggressive oral, although I adore those things. Nothing makes me smile wider then seeing the adoration in the eyes of a submissive as they look up at me.

But that adoration is all smoke and mirrors if it’s not backed up by action. To me the ultimate expression of submission is to follow, to put the dominant above you more then just literally, and to let them take the lead. 

I’m beginning to wonder if I’m more suited for a well rounded slave type then a submissive these days. I often wonder if compliance and obedience is more  engrained in that identity then that of a submissive.

What I do know is I’m tired of selective obedience, of hollow submission, of all talk and no follow through.

If you ever kneel for me, I will shape you in to my creation. In order to do so, you need to b willing to be molded, not mindless. I want your mind, all the things that make you who you are. But those things should never stand in your way to yield. Otherwise, why offer up the power transfer to begin with?

Sometimes being who you are means they won’t except youSometimes being who you are means they won’t except you

It took me a long time to accept I was polyamorous. I spent years trying to make myself happy with one person.

I blamed myself for being selfish, for wanting to much. I convinced myself I was defective and I couldn’t be happy no matter what I did.

Then one day I decided to try. I’ve never looked back.

That’s not to say I still don’t wish I could be monogamous. Even though I no the song and dance well and know that no matter how hard I try it will always turn out the same. I will always be polyamorous.

But when someone you love can’t accept that, when that person wears your collar and lived with you, when for a while you were fulfilled on a level you never had been before, when watching something precious break because of who you are, you wish you could be different.

These past few weeks have been exhausting, for us all. I’ve seen my girl go from proud to serve me, to hollow in her motions. I’ve seen my confidence as her dominant slip between my fingers. I’ve seen her cry far to often. Because of who I am.

It’s  incredibly difficult not to fall back in to the negative loop of self blame. Why, why do I have to be this way!

I feel like I’m letting something special slip through my fingers, because of who I am, and it’s the worst kind of pain.

But there is a worse type of agony.

The one where you make yourself something you are not to keep someone. The kind where you bite your tongue to keep from screaming and suffer to keep the piece.

It’s what she was doing, because of who I am. It’s what I would have done it I bent myself any further to meet her needs.

So I told her with no acceptance this will never work. I let who I am be the cause of her leaving.

I want to scream and cry, but I’m depleted so I write instead. I feel like I’m letting a good thing go, possibly one of the best things go. It’s made so much worse because she was my submissive, my girl, and I held so much love and pride for her, for all she was.

But who I am, what I do, it fills her with sadness. While letting her go fills me with the same, as her dominant it’s always been my role to keep her safe.

I just never thought I would have to keep her safe from me

When polly suddenly feels like cheating

This week has been incredibly difficult. A progressively sore throat led to me getting tested for covid. The results came back and I’m all clear, and as of today my throat is feeling better, but the entire thing weighed on me and wore me down.

Sunday the girl came back. I was caught somewhere between anger and terror of getting hurt again. Mostly she cried while I held her. I had cried the week before, a mess of unflattering gasps and sobs while clinging to daddy like a lifeline. So it came to be it was my turn to do so for her. I stroked her hair and told her it was ok while I watched the woman I love break again and again.

Conversations were often. Sometimes they felt like endless spirals with no clear resolution. She is trying her best to learn to share me. I am trying my best to let go of my hurt for how she kept it all to herself and ran from me.

Wednesday comes and it’s time for her to go back to her place. Before she does I’m finally feeling well enough to make love to her. I need this as much as she does, even though my head tells me I’ll just get hurt again. I ignore it and gaze down at her as we become one.

For once it’s not me crying from emotional sex. This relationship has found me looking at myself in another person in so many ways. I hold her while she breaks yet again. I tell her she is safe, that I have her, that I love her, and then we  dissolve in to the flames of the passion we make.

We walk her to the bus. Daddy alternates between walking behind or in front of us while I hold her hand. She says she will come back Sunday. She says she is going to fight to make it work because of how hard I did to keep her. She says no one has done that for her before.

I hold her tight before I let her go. I watch how she says goodbye to the dog and to daddy and I’m filled with panic that this could be it again. Yet, I don’t let it show. I hug her and tell her I love her, take N’s hand and walk away.

I ask him if he thinks it feels as awful for her as it does me to do this. I already know the answer. But I’m talking to keep myself out of my head. In there all there is are whispers about how it’s done. I don’t want to give them my time. So I babble as we walk.

When we get home I have a drink on the deck. I think how it’s nice, but different. That she is on a bus to a place where she will clock her time. I hope while there she will start the internal heavy lifting. I believe in her, but the fear of what if keeps singing a different siren song.

Wanting out of my head I text my friend and we go for a drive. I tell her I’m stretched thin. I tell her I love them both. I tell her how if I had met A before N things would be different. She listens and we drink coffee and eat doughnuts in the dark of a parking lot.

When I get home it’s late, but I’m not ready to sleep. I put on a series I’ve seen a few times that N hasn’t to fill time. I enjoy watching it with him, and yet my head never lets me be. She should be here it taunts.

I remind myself again and again that this is what’s needed for us to try. I tell myself this is far less of a sacrifice then the one where I have to let her go. Eventually I head to bed. All I can hear is her voice telling me everything is either yours and his or all of ours, but we don’t have a place of our own.

In bed me and daddy are intimate. It’s nice, it’s better now without the stress of his job. He calls me his good girl and it’s everything in me not to  dissolve in to tears. I had called her that only hours before, when she was inside of me.

And suddenly I feel like a awful human. I feel like I’m cheating on her, even though I know I’m not. I feel like I’m slinking around behind her back and doing something wrong.

He picks up on my sudden retreat in to myself and asks me what’s wrong. I hold back tears as I tell him how I feel like I’m doing something wrong, how I want to fix everything, how it was easier for me to be with others when we were all together or when it didn’t hurt them for me to do so.

Eventually I fall asleep wrapped around her pillow with him wrapped around me, my hand petting mr snuggly bear, a pink teddy she got me for Mother’s Day,

It’s been a rough go, I’ve never felt like this before when it comes to polly. I’ve never seen it cause someone so much pain. She tells me she loves me, that If it were only us it would be ok, and there are moments where I wish time had been different. But then he brushes my hair, or makes me laugh and I know I couldn’t change it. I know she doesn’t really want me to be anything then who I am. But when I see who I am hurt her, it gives the gremlins in my head a field day. Suddenly they are picking me apart for all the things about me I can’t change and laughing that it could cost me her.

All I can do is be honest. I love them both, and so in this situation I have a live in partner, I used to have two. Now my full time submissive comes a few days a week, and leaves for a few because being around me and him tortured her. I don’t know how to fix it, and as her keeper I feel useless and Ill equip. I remind myself to breathe and take it day by day.

I just can’t share you

It was Wednesday when she told me she was leaving. I had thought for a few days to think, but she requested a few weeks. It was then my stomach started to sink.

This was bad. For her not only as my partner but also as my service sub to be asking to spend this much time apart from me, something really bad was happening.

I asked her if she would come back. I was shell shocked and hurt. What would I tell the kids? Is this the end already? But I sat there and held on to her words.

She said that she just needed time away, that she was struggling with the polly thing, that she would come back.

And then she dumped me through text. She said she was sorry but that she couldn’t share me.

And I’m left hurt and baffled. I was upfront from day one. She entered in to a live in situation where I already had a established partner, and then she tried to pick it all apart.

She kept quiet about most things, but at the end it all came out. How she couldn’t stand him touching me, how she didn’t even want me going on dates, how she was so in love with me and so happy with the dynamic BUT

It’s the but that always baffles me. It took her 3 months to finally be honest with herself, and in turn I ended up getting left again.

I guess the lesson learned is even as a dominant, subs will still just leave out of nowhere. No one is really safe these days.

The  $800 collar I had made for her is on its way in the mail. When it gets here I’ll probably lose my shit and cry a while. I’ve done a bunch of that already these past few days.

But I haven’t done it alone. Daddy has been here beside me through it all. As he has through every other failed relationship. The one on one time with him has been good for us, even though I’m devastated about losing my girl.

I’ve always said the ones who walk away from me aren’t worth me in the first place. And while I want to be angry, I’m just depleted and hurt. I really thought the things I did offer her would have helped make the polly thing  manageable.

I’m not seeing anyone but N and her. I even suggested we step back from all living together and try that. But she wanted to be the live in. She wanted all or nothing and I can only try so hard when I’m throwing  compromises at a  immovable wall.

I have learnt in my life one person will never give you everything. That monogamous or polyamorous you need to weigh the good and bad and see what comes out on top.

For all the good she said I had, it wasn’t able to stand up against me being polyamorous. The dynamic and the love I had for her just didn’t tip the scales enough. So she left me. And all I can do now is try to let her go.