I submit, not to an ideal or vision of fantastic D/s, but to the realities of a power exchange which, when it’s constituent parts are under duress, becomes a test of conviction, and faith.
I may not have wanted to fulfill my morning obligations, but there was never a point at which I considered not doing that which He required of me.
I enjoy the opportunity to serve.
Anger had turned to anguish, my mind was a mess of hurt feelings and confusion, but protocol provided for me a lifeline, a focus, and a point from which we could begin to mend.
It isn’t easy to swallow down emotion when expectation takes priority over all else, but protocol isn’t an optional extra once the commitment has been made.
monologue, internal ~ I either submit fully, or not at all. I don’t get to cherry pick the times at which I’m prepared to commit.
I’d felt abandoned, and when sleep abandoned me too, I’d spent those fitful hours beside him turning the pending moment of obedience over and over until it’s sides were worn smooth by my calloused emotions.
Fear of awkwardness and being buried beneath the weight of emotion pulled my nerves in all directions, edges torn and bleeding.
Words are often my nemesis, usually partnered with abject frustration, yet for once I was glad of their absence.
I didn’t want to talk, to be asked to speak;I knew I’d be unable to without losing control of the tears I felt compelled to keep hidden.
Conflicted, I fought with myself.
Honesty requires authenticity, of self and of emotion, yet vulnerability I desired to obscure behind obdurate indifference.
Clarify:it wasn’t submission I was struggling with.
Fact:I always submit.
But when negativity places one in extreme discomfort, mitigating the resultant pain requires considerable fortitude, the weight of which I felt suffocated beneath.
Kneeling is my safe space, where I can be unburdened, and whilst fear may still course through my veins, it’s effects become background noise for the duration.
So I became my most authentic self.
Confession:I wished the time between my kneeling, and his waking, would extend into infinity, so that I may remain unencumbered, and not overwhelmed by the unknown millstone of discord.
But wishes are ethereal, not made of substance or tangibile components which can be moulded into a yearned for reality, they’re shades dancing in the wind.
Untouchable, forever just out of reach.
I don’t remember much from this point to that, only that disappointment coated every sporadic word, each syllable laced with frigidity.
The heat of His body, from which I usually drew comfort, burned,
my resolve to attempt control over my emotions crumbled.
I knew I didn’t want Him to hold me, I knew I didn’t want to meet His gaze.
I knew denying either of those things would not be allowed.
I knew He’d seek reparation through maintaining proximity, when all I wanted to do was become invisible.
I remember tears, I remember devastation, feeling my voice had no resonance with Him. A deep seated sadness suffocated my heart with each pitiful beat.
Lying next to Him, His arms around me, I felt conflicted.
In that space, He holds me whilst I tell Him my fears, yet outside that space, it appeared that my greatest fear had been played out, and my heart had ceased to beat.
I couldn’t talk to Him, He was the last person I wanted to speak to.
I wanted to scream at Him, I wanted anger to consume me and eviscerate Him in the crossfire. But my throat seized up, words, they didn’t exist in that alternate reality the previous night had created. I didn’t have the energy to be angry, it was all consumed by grief.
He wanted to engage, His own emotions not far below the surface, but I didn’t want to acknowledge them, I was fully consumed by my own.
He abandoned me, I wanted to be pained enough to abandon Him too.
We don’t fare well when we both hurt simultaneously, we retreat into our own furrowed minds.
binds us in those moments of self-recrimination, but I didn’t want it.
I did, however, need it.
Without it, in those moments, there’d have been nothing left.