One thing I crave is his control. In his absence it’s comfort reassures, a mesmeric distraction from the claustrophobic longing distance creates. My submission looks to him for direction, for a purpose when not at his side.
“Would you like more tasks like that to do?” he asks, and my mind stretches greedily towards the morsel he’s offering.
“yes please, Sir”
I feel oddly small as my words appear on the screen in response to the question.
“Today’s scenario is to built around this…” he says, and a gif appears before me.
I feel cold.
“…I can’t do this…”
A fault line trembles, and a chasm opens up between us, made deeper by my fear.
“..I’ve failed him already…”
I don’t want to say no, I don’t want to tell him I can’t.
He’s given me what I asked for, he’s placed me where I love to be,
control wrapping itself around me and holding me in place.
I can’t do this.
I’m disappointed in myself, I don’t want him to be disappointed in me too.
in communication, static in the air as I look at the screen.
Type words, delete words, type words….delete.
He asked me if I wanted this.
I said yes, because I did. I do.
And now I’m saying no.
“…not much of a submissive, am I?…”
My main fear was undermining his authority, authority I asked for, authority I asked for more of, and got.
Around me, my mind folds inwards, closing down all avenues of communication. Sentences remain unfinished, thoughts hang in mid air, frayed strings taught, threatening to snap and scatter shattered emotions at my feet.
Freeze or flight, simultaneous stimuli spinning me off centre.
I felt the need to run, but protocol pinned me in place.
I didn’t know how to say ‘I have misgivings about this task’ without it looking like I was throwing it back at him. So I dodged the remaining questions as best I could until we said our goodbyes for the night.
On reflection, it was the wrong thing to do. I inadvertently undermined him by not giving him all the information, I placed him in an awkward position by shutting down, by running away.
I regret that.
Protocol dictates that I contact him each morning, before a certain time. I really didn’t want to.
angry with him for giving me *that* gif from which to build a scenario, yet he gave it me because he knew I’d find it challenging.
I ask to be challenged, I ask, when we speak of tasks and the ways in which we interract as Sir and pet, for more…
..more control, more of him, more ways to deepen our connection.
I felt conflicted, and ultimately didn’t complete the task.
As oft happens if we’re not quite on the same page, I had an overwhelming need to talk to him, crawl beneath him and surround myself with his protection.
I knew I had to find the words to fit the dialogue which needed to take place, staccato steps in an awkward conversation. I was looking for him to lead, but how could he if I didn’t communicate what was going on?
I placed syllables side by side, and threw them at the screen, hoping their resonance would convey my emotions.
I’m angry with you.
I’m not angry with you.
I’m angry with me.
I failed you.
As he always does, he listened, and let me spill all the words at his feet. He picked them up, considered them, and put them in an order that worked for us both. He let me crawl to him, words in hand, and together we came up with a way for me to complete the task in a way that fulfilled us both.
This is what we do, it’s all we can do. We are human, we are going to make mistakes.
D/s, for us, isn’t about robotically engaging in protocols, divorcing emotion from the equation.
It’s about intimacy, it’s about deepening our connection, finding fulfillment within that imbalance of power, knowing that showing each other our vulnerabilities builds trust.
I had to allow my vulnerability to show in order for him to help me through.
I love being given tasks, I find peace from completing them, it satisfies my submissive needs to be challenged, it helps strengthen the connection in his absence.
But they only have meaning, only satisfy both our needs, if, even when it’s uncomfortable, lines of communication are kept open.