“And when we burst
Start over, oh darling
Begin again
Begin again
Begin again.”
feelings
Last night, Pup punished me for the first time.
Of course, he’s “punished” me before, and I know I’m behind on most of the stories of spankings, denial, etc, but this was the first serious punishment. Our dynamic has gotten to a place where he’s gotten the go-ahead from me to do stuff like this, but it still hit kind of hard.
Yesterday, I’d been pushing myself really hard to get a bunch of stuff done, because Sir said if I was very good I would be able to tr out the new vibrator I bought. And, I’d done it, and I was at Pup’s place and was looking forward to that. But, I’d been goofing around, and he told me if I pushed it one more time, I would be in trouble. And, well, I pushed it.
I apologized right away, but it had ben done. “I told you if you misbehaved again you’d be in trouble,” Pup said. “You’re sleeping on the floor and you don’t get the vibrator tonight.”
“No, but,” I pouted. “But I got all my work done. And I was such a good girl today. And I said I was sorry.”
Pup agreed that I was a good girl that day, and so I earned my spot in the bed. But I wasn’t getting the vibrator and I was still being punished, which meant he gave me a talk about why I had been bad and that he expected me not to behave that way again.
While he was talking, I couldn’t bring myself to look at him. I got little, which was a little uncomfortable for me since that isn’t our dynamic. I wanted to cry because this was new and vulnerable and I was caught in that weird space of wanting it and hating it and being glad it was happening but also dreading the whole thing and what it implied. I went back to the first time I was punished like this – in the serious way that feels like punishment – when Elle made me hold my iPod up against my bedroom wall with my nose for five minutes. It had been so long, so unsexy that it shocked me, and the fact that the effect was a genuine punishment had made me cry that night five years ago, because I was I was alarmed that our dynamic had suddenly shifted out of playfulness and into something with consequences.
“I’m sorry, Sir,” I said. “I won’t do it again.” I couldn’t stop fidgeting with my skirt. At first, he mistook my behavior for being insincere, playful, and I realize he’d never seen me be contrite in this context.
I told Sir what happened and why I wasn’t using my vibrator tonight, and he agreed that I had been a bad girl and that Pup was doing the right thing in punishing me. So there’s the downside of two doms, I realized: getting scolded twice over when I was being punished.
He had me change and get into bed with him so he could hold me. He let me talk about how I felt, and stroked my hair and told me I could cry if I wanted. “You know I’m not really angry with you. I’m punishing you, that’s all. And it’s okay and tomorrow you won’t be punished anymore. And if it’s too much today, you can turn it off. We don’t have to do this. You have the power to make this stop,” he assured me, but I told him I wanted this, and I knew that was true.
“Will you slap me, then?” I asked.
He brushed my hair from my face. “How do you ask for that?”
I averted my eyes. “Will you please slap me, Sir?”
He did, and let me suck his cock for a bit after. I made a joke about how he was already hard when I pulled him out of his pants, trying to grasp some sense of power or something in being playful that way, but it was so clearly a move for that. I felt so vulnerable – moving into this territory of our dynamic, being in that sad little punishment head – and weirdly it all made me pretty aroused.
But, when I asked him to fuck me, he refused. I huffed, and he told me I could touch myself. I rolled onto my back, sulking, with his arm still around me. As I rubbed my clit, he teased his fingers idly over my nipples. When I argued that it wasn’t fair, he told me I should try to sleep. My head was everywhere and I would feel better in the morning, he suggested, and I knew he was right.
“You’re going to break me, you know,” I said. “if you keep at stuff like this.”
He put an arm around my waist and pulled me to him. “Go to sleep.”
“The cracked bells and washed-out horns
Blow into my face with scorn
But it’s not that way
I wasn’t born to lose you.”
I will always love this
Oh my God the photos from this lunch come across my dash every so often and I just can’t even.
“You remember too much, my mother said to me recently. Why hold onto all that? And I said, Where can I put it down?” – Anne Carson, “The Glass Essay.”
“Miele” Series
I wish I could say my trip to see Sir over Thanksgiving was start-to-finish splendid. At the beginning, the whole thing was a little strained. I arrived the night before Thanksgiving in a terribly delayed flight, and then the next afternoon we had to go our separate ways to see our respective families. I got home at about seven, he didn’t get home until much later and I was too tired to do much of anything.
We watched a movie and he made drinks, so I was then way too tired and tipsy to do anything in our dynamic or have sex. And though I wasn’t trying to then, I had been generally evasive about our dynamic since I had arrived, and Sir had clearly picked up on it. Lying in bed, we proceeded to have an argument about how there was something off, we weren’t falling into whatever natural thing we usually did, I was resisting something.
“It’s just that…” I stammered out, and I felt myself start to cry. “So, like, I feel like I’m developing feelings for Pup beyond like sort of just being like fuckbuddies or occasional play partners and so I feel like I’ve been carrying this around since I went on that trip and that I haven’t been able to tell you because I didn’t want you to feel like I was just trying to sub him out for you because that isn’t it.”
It’s weird how – in a relationship complicit in allowing us to date other people – I was ashamed to admit I actually liked those people. I felt like I had somehow betrayed him by letting myself actually care about Pup, and so I was tip-toeing around everything to avoid it.
"I told you to be careful,” Sir said, I realized he misunderstood. “This is what happens when you get vulnerable with people, you have to be careful.”
“No, stupid, he likes me back. I think.” I proceeded to explain the conversations Pup and I had been having. The fact that while I was away on that trip, I’d gotten drunk and went to text him saying I missed him, only to find that he had sent me a text like that, and wound up having this awkwardly frank conversation about liking each other. “You’re not mad, right?”
Sir cracked a smile, “so, sweetheart’s got a little crush, huh?”
I felt like something had been exorcised from the room.
I’ve been putting off making this post because I always hate writing about the tough stuff.
Back in October and early November, Sir and I were having a little trouble. He was in the awkward position of being about to move but wanting to explore kink/poly stuff. And though I encouraged him, he kept snagging on the fact that he would be gone in a few months. To top things off, his other main partner had moved away.
As a result, there was a little bit of understandable bitterness. But, I ended up feeling awkward and evasive, like the problem wasn’t Sir’s own frustration with his situation but that I had somehow wronged him by being with other people. I felt guilty, and more than that, worried that he would become resentful from me and that this would ruin our relationship.
Instead of articulating this to him, I just started walking on eggshells and avoiding talking about poly. I hid behind excuses and tried to deflect away from the things I was doing for fear of upsetting him. I didn’t want to lose what I had, and so I just pretended I didn’t have it.
The tension came to a head the night when he was complaining to me about the dilemma of starting to like someone but feeling like everything was coming to an end too soon, and was therefore useless. Feeling guilty and anxious, I lied, said I was going to sleep, and went to Pup’s place instead to mess around. Instantly, I felt awful and, on my way home, called Sir to tell him what I had done and that I had been avoiding him because of my fear of having to choose between his happiness/security and non-monogamy.
“Okay,” Sir said. “Okay, we need to talk about this.”
And, finally, we did.
“Of course I’ll hurt you. Of course you’ll hurt me. Of course we will hurt each other. But this is the very condition of existence. To become spring, means accepting the risk of winter. To become presence, means accepting the risk of absence.” – Antoine de Saint-Exupéry, The Little Prince.
So, Sir’s plane took off.
If anyone needs me, I’ll be wallowing.
Two” shots of vodka
(Source: https://vine.co/)