i hate myself

I’m writing this. because if I don’t, I’ll do something really stupid. 

I woke up this morning, and the world came tumbling down on me. I guess I should take a few steps back and start explaining. I decided to reopen my OKC profile and start looking for new partners. In the section of the profile that asks you something about a secret you would share, I wrote that I identify with being submissive, though it is not important that it be the focus of my next relationship. That one sentence is actually getting the most attention for me on OKC, and by most, I mean two people have contacted me and both are doms. 

I am currently talking to one of those doms, whom I like to call Mr. Enthusiastic. Mr. E is very… enthusiastic about me. He is constantly asking me at what time I will be online next so that he can speak with me. He asks me all kinds of questions to get to know me better. Needless to say, our conversations focus primarily on d/s. His interest in me is that I would essentially take the place of his sub for 8 years, who is moving away. Of course, I’m not really taking the place of another human being, but I would step in and be his new focus since he can’t live without d/s. He is also poly and this sub is someone who he loves very much. 

I don’t know how to explain my feelings about Mr. E other than… there’s just no spark. There’s no immediate connection. He’s not a bad person. I enjoy talking to him. We seem to have the same views about d/s. What he would want from me fits very well in my life. He obviously likes me very much and wants to meet me and is already hoping we could be a good match and I will be his sub. So… why am I just not feeling it? Here’s a man who is actually enthusiastic and wants to talk to me everyday and I can’t be happy about this. 

I woke up this morning and began thinking about Mr E. I began thinking about how we will talk today (he’s already sent me an email asking me where I am and if I am coming online soon, while I write this blogpost) and he will want to make plans to see me in person. I began thinking about whether or not I could be his submissive and then that’s when my world tumbled. 

It has been a year since I can say I truly got over MasterC. Suddenly the tears stopped and the hurt didn’t hurt so bad. At the same time, I felt myself turn my back on d/s. Some how, it all just felt right again. I lived everyday, without thinking about him obsessively. I had moved on and found happiness in other places. Until this morning, when thoughts of MasterC came crashing down on me. 

I came to the realization that I craved MasterC again. Thoughts of giving myself to another Dom completely ruined me. Suddenly, I couldn’t stop thinking about MasterC. I wanted him again. I wanted him to be a part of my life again. I don’t want another Dom. I want him. I want his hands on my body. I want the magic, the perfection, that he and I shared as dom and sub once more. I could feel the tears welling up. 

I made my second mistake. 

I went to visit his twitter account. An account I had not looked at in over a year. There I saw it, an old tweet saying his thoughts were on the most perfect breasts he had ever squeezed. My heart wants to believe he was talking about me. That his thoughts were about me that day. When we were together, he had told me mine were the best breasts he had ever seen and touched. He loved them. Was he still thinking about me? Was that tweet out there in the hopes that I would have seen it and said something? No, I told myself. He has surely met another and he speaks of her, not you. 

That’s when the tears really began falling. My old friend, the ugly cry, was back. I was crying again like MasterC had ended things just yesterday. I felt like he was my drug and it was taking everything not to do the dumbest thing possible. I wanted to contact him. I needed to contact him. I wanted to answer his tweet and tell him that I hoped it were my breasts he was thinking about. I wanted to send him an email… no, a text. A text would be more direct. Maybe he never checks his email. I thought, what if we aren’t talking because he thinks I never want to hear from him again? Surely, I could send him one message? Maybe it will fix everything. I’m ready to be his “recreation”… aren’t I? I don’t care! I just want him to come to me. I want him to show up at my door and place his sadistic hands on my body like only he can. There can be no other! 

It took everything, not to send him a message. It’s stupid, I know. If he really wanted me, he would have answered the messages I sent him long ago. If he really wanted me to be the one masochistic sub he is searching for, according to his twitter bio, he would have contacted me. But I am not her. He abandoned me, never to speak to me again, and I hate myself for wanting to go back to him. 

My husband had lunch with me today, sensing that I would need someone to help comfort me. We talked. He asked me if MasterC were to send me a message, would I take him back. I said, yes, but he’s not going to send me a message. He doesn’t want me. If he did, he would have contacted me a long time ago. My husband told me he would have something to say about it if I were to go back to MasterC. I told him I know. Because at the end of the day, no matter how much I think I could go back to MasterC, I am forbidden to. My husband has not said as much, but I know it. I am forbidden to go back with MasterC. My husband does not want to see me get hurt again and certainly does not want to watch me go through the pain of losing MasterC …. again. 

So here I am, a year after I thought I was over MasterC, realizing, I’m just not. What brought it all back was my considering of going back to d/s and taking in another dom. I don’t want another dom, not now. I only want him. But I can’t have him. It is forbidden and besides, he doesn’t want me. I really need to forget him, but I can’t. I think once I move, it will make it easier to move on and be more accepting of another dom in my life. Right now, knowing MasterC is but an hour away, makes considering anyone here, hopeless. Perhaps when I have moved away, the fact that MasterC will now be in a different country will help me move on? Not sure why that would matter, he is but an hour away now and everything else makes him forbidden to me, moving away just increases the distance between he and I. 

I find it interesting, however, that I have no problems submitting to TC. Maybe because he is not my dom and does not wish to be? I actually really enjoy submitting to TC. It makes me happy. I feel no sadness. Perhaps it’s the fact that TC and I are not in a d/s relationship, that makes this easy for me to do with him? Or maybe it’s just my feelings for TC make me trust him? And if TC were to decide he was a dominant and wanted more of a d/s relationship with me, I would give it a try, though… distance and time would be an issue. Probably wouldn’t work for us as a serious structure. 

I think it’s pretty clear that I am not ready for things with Mr. Enthusiastic. I will be telling him the truth about what happened to me this morning. Maybe I’ll get over this and move on? Maybe I am being ridiculous letting MasterC get in the way? Maybe I should just keep giving Mr E a chance to be someone in my life? 

Maybe, it is true that MasterC will be my only Master and my days in the d/s lifestyle are truly over? 

All I know is, I must stay strong and not give in to this addiction. No matter how badly I think I may need him in my life once more, I cannot try to open that door once more. It is forbidden. 

© At Longings End 

just get over it

Excuse me as I ramble. 

I’ve come to the stark realization that it is going to take a very long time for me to get over C. Odd really. I was doing so well. Sure I felt sadness when I thought of him, but the pain was going away. I seem to have relapsed right back into it. Yeah, it’s only been 2 weeks and one day from the break up, but I feel like most people are looking at me and thinking, “Get the fuck over it already!” 

I question how I am supposed to move on when every available thought I have goes to C. I have too much time on my hands, admittedly. It would do me some good to really find a lot more things to keep me occupied, but regardless, every available thought I have drifts to C. Every single one. Everywhere I go, every moment, I’m fucking thinking of C. I want to stop it, really I do. I try to tell myself to stop thinking about him when I do start, but that just makes it even worse. 

When questioning how I am supposed to move on, I’ve had several people tell me, I have a husband who loves me. Yes, this is true. I am so very thankful I have him in my life to be there for me when I really need him. I do hope people realize however, that C and my husband, are two very different people in my life. They don’t both mean the same thing to me. It’s like when friends and family try to console you when you’ve lost your partner and they tell you to focus on their love and support. Though this is good advice, their love and support is not the same as the love and support you got from your partner. C came into my life to fulfill my D/s needs. He became my Master. He was my first true Master. My husband is everything else to me. To simply tell me that I should just focus on my husband and find happiness there, is probably a very true statement, however, it belittles my time with C. My husband can’t fulfill or take the place of C’s role, just like C would not have been able to take over for my husband had things gone the other way. I don’t expect people to ever understand how much C meant to me. Or what he meant to me. No one will ever know that except for me. I can tell you this: C was an experience I have NEVER had before. NEVER. 

And you never forget your first. 

C was my first true Master. I spent a few years looking for the right Dom to come into my life. Who knew that moving into a completely different country would present him to me? I met C and things were electric. It was pure magic. We were meant to be Master and slave. The connection between us was one I have never had with anyone else. It came as no surprise that we fell in love. It was not our intention, but it is not a surprise to me that we did fall in love. A connection this strong, how could you not? 

But love ruins everything. 

My love and desire to have him as a Master instead of a recreational plaything, is what ended us. I wish I could turn it all off. I wish there was a switch that would allow me to simply not love him anymore. I wish there was a switch that I could just turn off all the memories for the time being. I wish there was a switch to turn off my D/s needs as well. 

Not only am I faced with the reality of my relationship with C ending, but so is my submissive journey. I had this brief and explosive time with C, when all the things I had dreamed of became my reality. Now, it is all gone. There is no switch to turn off my submissive side. I wish there was. I wish I could just tell myself, it’s over. It was fun while it lasted, but it’s over. Time to forget this D/s stuff and just focus on other things. I really wish I could, but I can’t. 

When people ask me why I am into submission or why I am a submissive, I only have one answer for them. I just am and it just is. My submission and my sexuality go hand in hand. Being submissive to me is like being gay. You just are. It comes to you naturally. You either are submissive or you are not. You either are gay, or you are not. Or, you can be a switch, which also exists in sexuality as being bisexual. I am naturally submissive. I have tried to convince myself to being dominant, but it just doesn’t work that way for me. Yes, once in a blue moon, I feel a little more dominant, but my core, what really drives me naturally, is my submission. There is no explaining why I am, I just am submissive. 

So it’s really hard to not only sit here and mourn the loss of C, but I also have to sit here and mourn the loss of my submission. I mourn a part of myself. “It’s his loss, Mina.” It’s my loss too. Yeah, you know all those great experiences you had, living out your dreams, really being able to express and explore yourself as a submissive? Really channeling that side of you, letting it all go and being yourself? No fear, just joy? Yeah, now let it all go and forget about it because it is over. 

It’s fucking over, now get over it already. 

© At Longings End

 

relapse

I was doing fine, honestly I was. I could think about C and, though there was always sadness, it didn’t hurt anymore. I was ok. I was moving on. I was healing. 

Relapse. 

Suddenly all the progress I made came tumbling down last night. The sound of wind and rain pounding the window above me, the quiet snore from my husband, the stillness of the moonlit room, it all came tumbling down. My body shook in silence as I resisted the ugly cry. I would not allow it. I would not disrupt the slumber of my husband just so he could hold me as I sobbed for my loss. No, not this time. My lips quivered as the wetness poured down my cheeks and collected into my pillow. I snuffled and wept and thought of C. I found little comfort in the wetness of my tear soaked pillow. 

My chest ached. I couldn’t breathe. My heart burned. I missed him. All over again. Here I go again. I can’t stop the thoughts. They come pouring into and out of me. I need him. I need my Master. I don’t need A master, I need MY master. I need my Master C.  I can’t go on without him. I’m convinced. My life without him seems unbearable. 

I think about the silence between us now and the anger, hurt, frustrations all come pouring over me. I want it to stop. All of it. He haunts me. Every day I think of him. Not just once or twice, but constantly. Make it stop. I can’t make it stop. 

I need him. I want him. Unbearable. 

I am weak. If he were to call, I would answer. If he were to knock, I would open the door. If he were to touch me, I would surrender. If he were to tell me lies, I would believe him. 

Relapse. 

© At Longings End 

a letter

To the man I once called Master, 

When I said you ruined me for the next Dom, I meant it. Imagining myself having the connection you and I did with anyone else just seems impossible. You were my one in a million. I can’t imagine anyone else coming close to being the Dom that you were. I can’t imagine anyone stimulating my mind the way you did. This will be my downfall, I know it will. Any Dom attempting to come into my life in the future will be unfairly compared to you. I know this is wrong and I will do my best not to do such things. It will be hard though, to tell myself to stop dreaming about what I once had and accept what I do have. You were better at this than I was. You were good at catching yourself from making comparisons when you and I were together, even if it was to tell me I was perhaps the “better” sub. I shall have to hold this lesson with me and do my best not to compare. Yes, what I had with you, I can’t have with anyone else, because they are not you! They will never be you! I must embrace them for who they are and enjoy what I can have with them. Even if my heart aches for what it once had. 

You caught my attention immediately from the very first message you sent me. I was hooked. Something about how you spoke to me in written words grabbed me. I responded immediately, taking my time just like you had. Before I knew it, we were spiraling into each other. We were feeding off of each others words. We checked our email constantly and instantly smiling once we received a message from each other. 

Oh those beautiful words we wrote to each other. Not just the beginning, but for all the months to follow. It’s all we had, really. It’s what connected us the most. Those beautiful, poetic words. Sometimes I felt like my heart would burst from my chest. Such happiness, adoration, passion and lust for each other. 

You inspired me. I reached new poetic heights as we wrote to each other. I reached new places in my mind when I wrote my erotica inspired by you. I loved writing for you. I loved having that inspiration to write about what ever came to mind. Sometimes, it was dark. I embraced my darkness with you. I didn’t care who knew or who was watching. I felt like me when I was with you. I felt like it didn’t matter how dark or twisted I got, you would be right there beside me, holding my hand and even urging me forward. 

You became my rock during my lonely and difficult times. Perhaps I depended on you a little too much at times, but you became my confidant. I trusted you with my mind, body and secrets. 

Our first meeting ignited our flame and we became instantly bonded. All was suddenly right in the world, wasn’t it? How glorious our meeting was. It was like a dream come true to have you in my apartment for the very first time. Our first meeting was many weeks in the making. Do you remember how I just couldn’t get over finally seeing you in person? I couldn’t stop touching you. I couldn’t stop breathing you in. I didn’t want to let you go. I had to though. I had to wake up from the dream and face the reality that, yes, you were in my apartment. 

No one is ever going to look at me the way you did. No one ever has before. You took your time with me. You left me clothed for quite some time. You either stood in place and had me turn for you or you had me stand in place while you walked around me. It didn’t matter which, but every meeting between us was the same. I stood and you watched, admiring every inch of my body. Not just with your eyes either. No, you used your hands too. I’ll always remember the feel of your palms and fingertips as they grazed over my skin. You liked to touch every inch of my body. You wanted to know it inside and out. 

You loved my hands. I don’t know why my hands, but you did. You told me they looked like the hands of a woman who’s worked hard and they show their age. It was never an insult and I knew what you meant. They look like the hands of a 30 something woman who has a few stories to tell. You adored my small hands. 

But it was my breasts you loved the most. You were crazy about them. It was your adoration for them that actually made me realize just how lovely my breasts are. It was because of you I began feeling more comfortable not wearing a bra again. You were in awe of them. You simply could not believe how large AND firm they were. You couldn’t keep your hands off of them. Sometimes you’d have to watch yourself or your vise grip was just too much for me to take. It was my breasts you enjoyed marking up the most. Taking your time to create beautiful artwork on my plump flesh with all your many tools. Especially, the red lunge whip. How I hated (but loved) it when you would flick the very tip of the whip against my breasts. Occasionally you’d land on my nipple and I’d yelp. 

I asked you once what made you look at me and want to hurt me and caress me at the same time. You said it was everything and yet nothing at all. It just simply was. I asked you if you ever wanted to make me cry. You said no. Of course, you would not be upset or turned off if I did, but it was never your intention. No, you wanted me to fight. Crying, to you, was a symbol of me not overcoming what you were dishing out, but when I embraced it instead and pushed myself over the pain and growled at you, that’s what you loved the most. 

I remember the joy of feeling my ass marked by you. Remember the game we played? Trying to see who would last longer, your hand or my ass? Did we ever declare a winner? I think we both won that day. I loved the feel of your hand spanking my ass. I loved the feel of everything you did on my backside. Remember the glorious marks the nylon cane left? Those were beautiful weren’t they? I loved how the cane left a raised welt I could feel for days. I remember the whip you brought over once. Oh the marks that one left! You’d use my own body to wrap the whip around and allowing it to gain momentum. And there was also the crop. The crop you bought with me in mind. 

You had a way with all these tools. I learned knew methods from you. You knew how to make things hurt just right. Like your method of smacking me with a crop and leaving the crop right where it landed, instead of lifting it up and readying it for another smack. Leaving the crop in place after it smacked me resulted in a very heated sting. I both loved and hated this feeling. 

Remember how well you trained my ass. You wanted me to be your little anal slut. This made me nervous as I was never into anal sex because it always hurt. You were determined though, to make me into your little anal slut and you did. It was under your direction and careful training, that I achieved what you (and I) always wanted. That first time you slipped your cock into my ass was a wonderful feeling. It was wonderful for you as well wasn’t it? *wink* I wish we had had more time together. I really enjoyed being fucked in the ass by you. I had dreamed of having an ass full of your cum in the future. 

You enjoyed my tight little cunt too didn’t you? Of course, back then, it was your tight little cunt. I remember the first time you slipped inside me and I squeezed my muscles around you. The look of surprise on your face was priceless. Oh and when I orgasmed around you, I thought you were going to faint. Were you afraid I was going to snap it right off? *grins* 

I loved that when we spoke or spent time together, I made the muscles of your mouth ache. I made you smile so much, it would start to hurt. I liked knowing that before me, you didn’t smile enough. I liked being the one to put that smile on your face. 

I liked your glasses and how you looked in them. I loved the brilliant color in your eyes. I loved your eyes and the many looks they had. You sometimes had a very charming and boyish look to you, but then a switch would turn on and your dominant side would come out. I loved how the corners of your eyes and lips would crease as you smiled. 

I loved how goofy you were at times as we snuggled in the bed in between scenes and while in orgasmic bliss. I loved how your nose got instantly congested just seconds after an orgasm. 

I loved giving you orgasms. Especially when I gave them to you by my mouth. I will never forget the day I treated you to a stellar oral orgasm. It gave me such pleasure to please you in such a way. I could do it over again and again. 

I liked the quiet moments where all we did was look at each other and touch. You had a spot I adored so much. I said that I thought I adored it because it looked a bit feminine. My hands felt good running along that spot, just above the hip bone and along the curve of your sides. I can imagine my hands running along your sides now. Bliss. 

I loved that you were always in a suit when you came to see me. You always kept it on during our interactions. It was extremely arousing for me to be nude for you and you were still dressed in your suit as you had your way with me. Of course, you generally removed your tie and suit jacket to be a tad more comfortable. I’m sure there were times when it would have been even more comfortable to remove the trousers, but I admit to enjoying the sight of your erection pressing against the fabric. 

Your first time ever coming to see me, you never removed that suit. You gave to me several orgasms by hand, but never once took anything from me in return. I was shocked. Really, I was. To say I was expecting you to fuck me was an understatement. It came as a huge surprise that you would control yourself and opt not to fuck me. You wanted to focus on just us and the moment and D/s. I grew a huge amount of respect for you that day. I also knew you were somebody extremely special from that moment. 

I and often times, we, had a few firsts together. I finally got to experience breath play with you. I trusted you. I knew I would be safe with you. Who knows if I’ll ever revisit it with another. Our darker side got the best of us as we explored piss play together. It was once something I thought very disgusting, but with you, I wanted to be your little piss whore. It’s just one of the many examples of how you truly got under my skin and bled into my mind. I would have bled for you. You know this. I’m sure we would have gotten there at some point in the future. Fuck, I would have ripped out my own heart for you if it didn’t mean I would have to die. 

Yeah, you really fucked me up in the head and I loved you for it. 

Here’s something I never told you… You know in the beginning, I think by our second meeting, you were waiting on a very important package? You told me it was a very special item. In my head, I was certain it was a collar. I was convinced it was a collar that you had special ordered and had to wait awhile in order to receive it. I was so excited as I let this little fantasy take flight. I couldn’t wait to wear your collar. I was a little disappointed that day when the special package turned out to not be a collar. But only a little. Everything else between us more than made up for it. I would have happily worn your collar, but you know this. 

The very first painting I ever made was for you. My special gift to my special Master on his special day. I hope it’s something you will cherish for the rest of your days. I made it with love and happiness. 

I gave you a key. A very small key. Though it belonged to a lock (one used to lock a collar in place), I made it the physical symbol of my submission. It was a tiny gift, one I wanted you to be able to carry around with you at all times. I wanted it to fit into your pocket so you could take me with you every where you went. If you were having a stressful day, all you would have to do is slide your hand inside your pocket and run your fingers along the key and you would know I was with you. This key has perhaps been tucked away in hiding now. I hope that one day, when you come across it, you will think of me fondly. 

We’ve shared some intimate and private moments. During our chats I learned just how much of a geek you could be, and I adored you more for it. See? Your secret is still safe with me. I won’t reveal your once a month, guilty and geeky pleasure. 

I was never any good at goodbyes with you. Truth is, whenever you came over to see me, I was already thinking of the fact that I would have to say goodbye in a few hours. It was like my subconscious knew each meeting could be our last. Having to say goodbye after our few hours together always brought tears to my eyes because I never knew just when I would see you again. I always ran the risk of never seeing you again. So I often cried for a few minutes after you left. You were always more positive than I. You asked me to please try being more positive. You told me, “our goodbye is simply the beginning to when we will see each other again.”

Thank you for the memories. Thank you for the moments you shared with me. 

I say goodbye in the hopes it begins a new journey ….

With love always, 

Mina

© At Longings End

never

I will never … 

Know what it’s like to wear his collar. To feel the cool leather pressed against my neck. Feeling the leather tighten against my skin as he buckles it in. Would he lock it into place?

Know what it’s like to spend more than a few hours at a time with him. 

Know what it’s like to fall asleep in his arms and wake up with him beside me. 

Know what it’s like to spend several days and several nights with him. Just he and I and his dominance and my submission. Locked away from the world. Only we exist. 

What it’s like to sit at our spot together. We have never been there together, but on days I felt out of sorts, I went there to think of he and I and always felt better after. I called it our spot in the hopes we would sit there together one day.  

Hold the stuffed animal he said he picked out for me. A fluffy, huggable companion for me to hold during the times we were not together. He said he had a special one picked out just for me. It had a story and when I gave him a look of curiosity, he told me in time I’d understand, once I saw the stuffed animal. 

Know what it’s like to have fresh new marks painted on my body with each rising sun. 

Know what it feels like to bleed for him. 

See the inside of his dungeon. 

Hear him tell me I am a “good girl”, see his mischievous smile, watch that look in his eye appear when he triggers his dominant side, feel my heart melt as he looks upon me with pure admiration, feel his hands on my body, feel each strike he delivers, or be held in his arms ever again. 

Know what it is like being his anal slut. Though it was he who trained me and trained me very well to accept his cock into my ass with much pleasure, our time together was too short to truly experience this for more than just a few times. 

Know if he would ever push me to my limits and beyond. Would I ever have to use my safe word?

Know what it’s like to simply be his pet. 

Feel his lips pressed against mine ever again. 

I will never forget. 

© At Longings End

 

 

denial

I mentioned in my last post that perhaps the reason why things don’t seem to hurt that much anymore, is because I may be reverting back to some denial. Maybe a very small part of me still holds a little hope. I think there is a tiny flame within me left for C. All it needs is his touch or gentle word and it would ignite into a roaring flame. 

My foolish and romantic heart wants to think that this isn’t over. I want to believe that one day, maybe a few weeks from now, C will change his mind. He’ll come back and tell me he was so wrong to resist me. He was so wrong to resist his dark side that he enjoyed embracing with me. I imagine him coming back and telling me he simply can’t go on without me being his slave. 

Then, I snap back in reality and remind myself that for nearly 3 months, C has been living just fine without me. Don’t be dumb Mina. 

Wednesday, I cleaned the bedroom. For the months (wow, I really can’t believe we didn’t last that long) that I have been C’s slave, I have kept his tools (flogger, whips, canes, crop etc.) underneath my bed. I decided it was time to put them away. C had told me that the tools are all mine to keep. He bought them specifically for using on me and he wishes not to use them on another. Sadly, I fear they will go to waste, for I have absolutely no desire for anyone to use those very tools on me either. I only want his hands to hold those tools. 

It was time for me to pack them away in a bag and store them in our attic. Out of sight, out of mind, right? As the various items lay sprawled on my bed, I couldn’t help but feel a wave of sadness once more and the tears welled up in my eyes. It’s over? It’s really over? Not only can I not stand the thought of not feeling C’s hands on me or feel the various tools being used on me by him, the very thought of no longer being able to express my submissive side really depresses the hell out of me. It’s all over.

I could not hold the crop for very long. It was the crop that he told me, very specifically, was picked out just for me the first day he brought it over. It was the nylon cane that made the tears well up in my eyes the most. The first time he used it on me, is a day I’ll never forget. The nylon cane became my favorite, because it had a very wicked sting to it, which I loved to hate and hated to love. The nylon cane also, left the most beautiful marks on my body. I loved them. I loved the masterpiece of artwork C left on my body. 

So as I looked at all these tools laid out on my bed and held the cane’s end in my fingertips, I felt the overwhelming sadness of never being his slave again and never getting to express my submissive side. My mind began to wander. Does it really have to be over indefinitely? Is this truly the end? I’m going to have needs.. I have needs. Am I really set on never seeing him again? I’m not hurting as bad as I did a few days ago. Maybe in a few months when all the pain is gone, maybe he and I can see each other and act out our D/s needs and leave it at that? Or maybe seeing each other will only rip open the old wound? 

Who knows? I don’t have the answers and I’m not making any rash decisions now. I quickly placed all the tools within a plastic bag and climbed the ladder up to our attic and laid the tools to rest. They, like my submissive side, may never see the light of day again. 

© At Longings End

hurt

** Please note that the following is my expression of how I am feeling and nothing more. This is not an accurate description of anything C might be thinking or going through. I cannot know how he feels or what his intentions were. But I need to expel my feelings in order to move on **

I’ve come to the realization recently (and honestly I don’t know why it’s taken me so long to accept this) that men and women are truly two different beings. Our definitions of love differ. Men communicate differently than women and sometimes not at all, for that matter. In any case, today, I am deeply hurt. There are a lot of things I don’t understand and that makes it difficult to accept. But I have to. I have to simply accept things for what they are. 

It is extremely difficult for me to understand how C suddenly no longer wants me in his life. It’s like a switch has suddenly been thrown and everything we were doesn’t matter anymore. He made the decision that he was okay with demoting me to “plaything” and no longer having me as his “slave”. I know for nonkink people this is confusing. But think of it this way as a comparison: It’s like telling your girlfriend, if she wishes to continue seeing you, she now has to view herself as a fuck buddy. She no longer gets to be your girlfriend. She no longer gets to have a relationship. She no longer gets your companionship or even daily conversations. You will contact her when you have time and the need for what she can offer and then ignore her at all other times. 

This, for me, is a brutal slap in my face. I still can’t wrap my head around how C could change his view of me after all we’ve experienced. I made a point several times in making a statement of me being demoted as a “plaything”. I kept referring to myself as a “plaything”. I asked him if he seriously thought I could be happy being made into a plaything that he uses from time to time and then places on a shelf to ignore for days/weeks/months until the next use? And you know, not once did he stand up and say, “No, Mina, you would never be a plaything. I could never view you as such, it’s just … ” Not once did he stop me from calling myself a “plaything”. Not once did he stop to say, “Oh no, it would never be months or weeks between talking.” I honestly don’t know what his plan was. I don’t know what seeing him as a “recreation” means. I don’t know how often we would talk or see each other. What I do know is, it would all be according to his needs and his schedule. I simply have more time than he does. I do not fault him for this, of course. As an individual, he has to work and make a living, just like everyone else. My circumstances are a bit different at the moment. I am more flexible. 

It hurts going back in time, after the first time we met in person and had an incredible session together, to think about him holding me tightly as he tells me, “You feel like home.” Everything about us felt so right. Except for the first time we saw each other, I always cried after he left. I was always sad once he left. He used to tell me that “Our goodbye is simply the beginning till the next time we see each other.” I tried to remember this, but somehow my heart was always scared that there wouldn’t be a “next time”. It’s like I just knew this amount of happiness and perfection could never last forever. No person should be allowed so much happiness. 

It’s difficult thinking back to all those weeks spent wrapped up in each other. We spent everyday conversing throughout the day (when he could), but we always came together late at night. While our primaries slept, he and I spent an hour or two really getting to know each other while texting back and forth. Then as his life got busy, communication slowed down dramatically between us. It’s difficult knowing that, back then, it was not a problem for him to converse with me daily, but today, he can’t even be bothered with opening the app we use to communicate with each other on a daily basis. (I know this because our app tells us when a message has been read and my messages would spend days unread). 

Today, I check my phone daily to see if I have received anything. I know, it’s foolish. I have sent him a few messages since our breakup, but they remain unread. Of course, I understand this. He is not a heartless man and me telling him I simply can’t accept seeing him as a recreation and ending our seeing each other, has upset him as well. It’s for the best right now that we not communicate at all. I know this and understand. Communication between us right now, will just prolong the hurt and decrease the speed of recovery. 

I honestly don’t know if he ever wants to speak to me again. I hope he does. I hope once all the pain has gone away that we will get to continue being friends. He was an important part of my life. My experiences with him were life changing. I will always have love for him. I wouldn’t want him to be just a memory. 

There was a time in September, when I confronted him about the lack of communication. I remember asking him if the last few months were actually abnormal. I simply wanted to know if before was kind of a holiday and now is his real life. That his life is normally as busy as it had gotten. But he told me, no. He told me he is actually abnormally busy now. Guess that wasn’t true. 

It really hurts thinking about just a few weeks ago, when he began reassessing his life and all the things in it. When he was talking to me about everything, there was one thing he never brought up… me. So, this naturally left me asking him, “Where does this leave me?” I then told him, “I know that I am item 100 of the 100 items in your life. I was the last thing to come into your life, so I will most likely be the first thing to be eliminated.” He told me this was absolutely not true. He valued my presence in his life. He very much wanted me in his life. I was more important than being number 100. Somewhere between 2 weeks ago and now, his view changed, for I can no longer be his slave. 

It just simply hurts, knowing that at some point, I was very much important to him. I was his slave. I was a woman he loved. I was someone he valued and wanted to spend time talking to. Someone, I can assume, he enjoyed talking to and being in the presence of. Today, however, he no longer wishes this. He no longer has the time. If I wish to continue seeing him, I have to view him as “recreation”. There simply just isn’t any time for me in his life. 

I often have made jokes about this, but “love ruins everything.” Perhaps things would be different today if he and I had never fallen in love? But then, perhaps things wouldn’t have been so great had we not fallen in love? I don’t regret our time together. I never will. Regardless of how tragic our ending, our time together is something I would never wish didn’t happen. 

–

I can feel myself healing. Honestly, I’m surprised at how fast I am healing. Perhaps it’s because I have been using the blog as a place to hold my own private therapy sessions. Two days ago, while in a hot bath, I had an “ugly” cry. Every time I thought about C and I NEVER being together again, it tore me up. Thinking about never experiencing all the wonderful D/s things he and I shared again, depressed the hell out of me. Through my sobs I said, “I can’t do this.” Meaning I couldn’t move on. I simply could not get past the pain of never seeing him again. And then, yesterday morning I had that dream. I don’t know why, but somehow, that dream actually brought me peace, when normally, I would think dreaming about him coming to me would rip me to shreds, emotionally, upon waking. Right now, I can think about never seeing him again, and though it makes me sad, I’m not turning into an emotional wreck over it. Maybe it’s because, in some way, I’ve reverted back to a little bit of denial, but that’s for a future post. 

© At Longing’s End 

 

 

he came to me

It’s morning and I slumber underneath the warmth of the duvet. As usual, I am nude and sleeping on my stomach. A hand lifts my hips very gently and I begin to wake as three fingers enter me, spreading my folds. A few thrusts and I awake fully, the room dark from the black out curtain. He joins me in the bed, telling me he loves me and I smile lightly knowing it must be my husband. But as he embraces me, I realize, it is not my husband. I am embracing C. This can’t be. How did he get into the apartment? Sure the apartment remains unlocked when my husband leaves for work, but how did C get into the building? “Through a window,” he smiles at me. That charming, boyish smile that tells me, the formalities are not needed. What matters most is that he is here. I still can’t believe it and I tell him this. “Surely, this is just a dream. It must be just a dream. You aren’t really here.” I need this to be real. I won’t be able to handle the reality of waking up from a dream. Please, don’t let this be a dream. 

“I am no dream,” he smiles. “Look, I am here. Do you not recognize that it is me? Do you not see that I am here with you?” 

I look at him closely. It is him and yet it doesn’t look like him. I haven’t seem him in almost 3 months. I know he has been overworked and at one point, severely ill, but could it have caused him to look so thin? I assume he has come to talk about our breakup. I am aware I have just woken up and likely suffering from terrible morning breath. I go into the bathroom, brushing my teeth. I can’t wait to talk to him. He follows me into the restroom, using the toilet as I am standing there brushing my teeth. It’s the longest I have ever spent brushing my teeth. I can’t believe he is here. I can’t believe he has come to me. 

I never got to talk to him. 

I wake before I have the chance. 

© At Longings End 

MasterC – the conclusion

It has been discussed and decided that my journey with MasterC must come to an end. It’s not a decision I enjoy making, nor wish to make. It’s one I have to make, simply because there can be no other way. C has had much time to think and in the end, he has decided that there simply is no time in his life to continue as we have been. It doesn’t have to be over, however, in order for me to be with him in the future, I have to consider it being a “recreation”. You see, we can no longer be in a Master/slave relationship, but we would see each other from time to time to engage in D/s play. Needless to say, this, I cannot do. 

It came as a sharp punch to the gut and a stinging slap to the face when C told me that in order for us to continue, I’d have to understand that we would no longer have a relationship. I took the news as well as anyone could who has just been told they are no longer viewed as an important part of someone’s life, but rather a plaything to be left on a shelf, untouched until the time is right again. So, not well at all. 

I do not wish to be someone’s plaything, nor do I wish to have a “playmate”. I need the whole package. I need that deep, emotional connection that a dominant can have with their submissive. I was accepting that C was busy and that, on average, we met once a month, but to be told on top of that, we would no longer be connected as Master and slave and days/weeks/months may go by between us talking (or seeing each other), is something I simply can’t do. 

Oh how I wish I can! I wish it with every fiber of my being. I wish I can convince myself that I can deal with this. Deal with being emotionally separated from him, just so I can be with him again. Because quite frankly I can’t stop crying every time I have to face the fact that I will NEVER SEE HIM AGAIN. (yes, it took many attempts between tears to write this). I don’t want it to be over. I don’t want it to be over. I don’t want it to be over. I don’t want it to be over. 

But I can’t go on under the new conditions. 

The very reason that he and I were a fiery Master/slave dynamic was our instant and intense, emotional bond. To take that element out and continue seeing each other just seems like it would destroy everything. The only reason why he and I had such an amazing experience together was because of our emotional bond. He fed into my darkest desires and I fed into his and now the connection has been severed. 

I hesitate to call this the conclusion of our journey together. I’m trying to convince myself this is not the definite end. I’m trying to tell myself that maybe a few months down the line, when the heartache and pain has disappeared and all that’s left is a desire to revisit our beautiful moments together, that we will come together again. But really, that is my romantic heart talking. That is the flame of hope I refuse to extinguish, because the pain of thinking that it is truly over is just too much. I keep this romantic hope that people like us, we are meant to be together. That our connection is too strong to be denied. We will find our way back together again. 

Then I look back at the last 3 months and realize, we can never go back …. 

*** Edit on November 25, 2012. It was in fact over the day I wrote this. He never spoke to me again. I am now just someone he used to know. I still can’t believe he would just abandon me and never speak to me again. Oh well. I move forward with my life every day, thought whether or not d/s will be in it always changes with each passing day. Onward and upward. ***

loss

 

I was never fool enough to believe it would never end. EVERYTHING has an ending. I just never imagined it like this. Never imagined it would come so quickly. I thought we would have a few years together and our time would have to end when my time in this country expired. 

 

Instead, I sit here today, absolutely confused and hurt. I never saw it coming… but then again, we never do. 

 

There are 5 stages of grief associated with a loss. 

 

1. Denial and isolation
2. Anger
3. Bargaining
4. Depression
5. Acceptance

 

Denial

 

I’ve been in denial since mid September, I suppose, but C never gave me a reason not to believe that this was just a hitch in our relationship. After all, when you love someone, you love them through the good times and the bad. Everyone has something bad happen in their lives or something unexpected that takes them away from truly living it. I was not blind to the demands C’s work and projects put on his schedule. I was willing to accept it as a hitch that we could work past. 

 

Of course, it was ME, not him, that pointed out our communication with each other had begun to greatly suffer and we barely spoke during the week. It was ME who reached out and said I did not feel this was fair or right. That as my “Master” he was not fulfilling his role by neglecting me. I asked him for an official break, until the end of October when all his work and projects would be finished. It was a realistic way for us to be happy. I no longer had expectations, so I couldn’t be disappointed and he no longer had to worry about me. We of course stayed in contact and I couldn’t wait for the month to be over. 

 

By the end of October, C came back into my life and we began reconnecting. I was thrilled. Until suddenly, things just didn’t seem the same. He was still distant, he was still preoccupied. Turns out, now that his life opened up again, he decided it needed serious restructuring. He also made it very clear that I am an important part of his life and his restructuring would include me. Then, he disappeared. 

 

Yes, I was in denial. I refused to see that we could possibly be heading down the road to the end. He never gave me a reason to not believe in us. That is, until now. 

 

Anger

 

Perhaps the strongest emotion I am feeling right now is anger. I’m angry because I simply cannot understand. I’m angry that someone whom I trusted to make my Master and who adored me enough to make me his slave, could do this to me. I’m angry that someone who says they love me, could simply vanish from my life. More than anything, I am furious that all the beautiful moments, intense exchanges, heartfelt words and dreams come true, are now poisoned by his actions. Poisoned!

 

I’m angry that all the things to look forward to in our future together, are now just shattered dreams. I’m angry that no matter how loyal, patient, wonderful and how much of “a dream come true” I was, it still wasn’t good enough. But mark my words, I do not think for one second our falling apart had anything to do with me. Oh no, this is all him. 

 

Bargaining

 

I suppose I’ve been bargaining these past few months. “Things will get better when..”, was always something I said to myself. Times got busy and I believed that things would get better when they ended, but there was that little voice in my head waving a red flag. “Mina, you know better,” she tells me. “Remember your ex, Patrick? Remember how you discovered how busy he was all the time because he was finishing college and working on his own business at the same time? Remember how you tried to tell yourself, things will get better when he graduates and you really wanted to believe it, but you knew that was foolish. Because, there is always something else, isn’t there? Once one obstacle is tackled, another one always appears…” 

 

Sure enough, C came back briefly, and I thought we were moving forward, but then more obstacles came in the way and I was once again left behind. Even this weekend, I had renewed hope. C came back Saturday morning, leaving me a message, apologizing for his absence, realizing he’s certain he has inflicted wounds that can not be easily healed. I didn’t see the message till Saturday afternoon, but I responded, telling him that he was right, I was deeply wounded. He gave me hope. I thought that maybe he was back and we would begin talking about things and seeing how we can fix things, but he has disappeared again. He has not responded to me and my messages sit unread. 

 

Depression

 

Yes, I am sad. It doesn’t matter how terrible our ending may be. Truth is, I don’t regret our time together. How can I? Regardless of how it ended, our time together was beautiful. Sure, right now, thinking about it while still feeling these emotional wounds does leave a sour taste in my mouth, but it doesn’t change what he meant to me, what he still means to me. Yes, I still love him. Yes, I still want to be his slave. Yes, I want everything to be ok again so that we can continue seeing each other and living all of these magical moments. 

 

Our time together was too short. I want more. There was so much more for us to explore together. I don’t take it back. I don’t take anything back that I said to him. He is my one in a million. It took me two years to find someone like him. We collided and we were electric together. We were meant to be Master and slave. He took my mind and body to places I never knew I could go and that is still a beautiful thing. 

 

My heart weeps that this is over. My “dream come true” has ended too quickly. 

 

Acceptance

 

Last night I had my first (and most likely not my last) good hard cry over losing C. I think last night was my first step towards acceptance. I mentioned C contacted me on Saturday, but I haven’t heard from him since and my messages remain unread. There are no excuses. It’s time I realize that if he really wanted to fix things, he would be doing everything in his power to do so. He wouldn’t simply abandon me… again.

 

This will be the hardest step for me. I don’t want to accept that it’s over. I want to keep fighting for this beautiful thing we have. I am still fighting. This is the problem. I am fighting for grasps of air. 

 

The hardest thing for me to come to terms with is, this isn’t just about me. I am not the only person affected by my outside relationships. When I suffer, so does my husband. When I am emotionally hurting, I am unavailable to my husband. How could I possibly push all of this aside and even consider trying again with C? I’m not going to lie, I absolutely want to have the chance to give C another shot. But how can I possibly consider it? How can I put my husband through this again? 

 

I have to accept that C and I are over, because quite frankly, he’s not trying to convince me otherwise. 

© At Longings End