19 Days

It has been 19 days since I last wrote.  It is probably the longest dry spell since I began writing for Mr. D.  It has been far too long.

My mother passed away.  Amidst the grieving and planning her funeral and memorial, I lost my drive.  Not just the drive to write but the drive to do much of anything.  I think it was the pendulum swing from over-worked, over-focused on caring for a loved one, and pretty much an over-filled life. I dropped down a rabbit hole of ‘I don’t want to work and I don’t want to do anything.’

After her memorial, the Monday after, my need to get things done finally came back to me.  I worked through my desk with a singleminded drive that was infused into my psyche.  I spent a solid week and came out with a pristine desk and a real do-to list of valid projects to carry my company to Christmas.  That felt amazing.

Then I took two weeks off.  I’m on day three of my vacation.  I have worked solidly in the same manner on home projects.  I had a massive volunteer project that languished while mom was ill. I had to wrap that up and I turned it all over today.  Finally, my plate is much less full. 

This evening I showered and dressed for Mr. D.  The only thing on my plate was serving him.  It felt good, it felt like I was home after so long. We have had our time together through all this and Mr. D has been incredibly supportive.  But today I feel like I can breathe and that I can return to being focused on us…on our dynamic again.


Rambling Again

Lust, desire unabated
Longing coursing through me
Staunchly checked
Biding time until she is with me
Biting my tongue
Never pressuring her for time
Constrained is her world
Time is limited
Responsibilities demanding
I am her down time
Her solace and respite
I miss her presence
I want her laughter; her light
I find things to occupy me
Yet always the onus is on her
But I defer
No pressure, never that
In her time
I look at her pictures
I read her words
I close my eyes and taste her
I sense her touch with my mind
And wait…
It is always the same when she comes to me
She appears and within minutes I take her
Claiming her mine and marking her
Ensuring my scent is on her
Only then am I able to escape the longing and need
I drink deeply from her and am refreshed
I am dehydrated, parched, or desperately thirsty
Quench me Lover, please



Do you like your submission with a dose of pain?  What does the pain do to put us into sub space?  Does it send you flying or does it bring you fully back to earth?  I think the answer is different for each person.

Mr. D and I talked a little about letting go last night.  About what I meant by wanting to let go in the Skirting the Edge post.  I have a twofold answer to the question of how I’d like to let go.  First, I’d like to experience emotional letting go.  To communicate more freely, to not worry about what is going on in the other person’s head so much, but to honestly communicate and let the chips fall where they may.  Part of this means letting loose verbally and also in action during a scene.  What is it that would allow me to do that?  Is it only permission I need?  Or is it something inside me that needs to change?  I believe to it is both. 

When I need to communicate about something difficult, live and in person, I find myself freezing up.  I feel the silence lengthening and suffocating me from all sides.  It is as if I’m in a bubble of viscous clouds and the more I punch at it the further the edges retreat and the more alone I am inside.  But it is only me doing that.  It is so frustrating.  There is a crucial build up of discomfort in that state and eventually it is more painful not to talk than to face it.  But why go through that turmoil?  I’m still working on that one. 

Anaïs Nin: “And the day came when the risk to remain tight in a bud was more painful than the risk it took to blossom.”

I emulate this quote more now that I’m in the midst of the discovery, finally.  Now that I have a taste of what is possible, I will not go back in that damned bud.  Not for nothing.

The other letting go, the part having to do with the pain is something different.  I haven’t gone there yet, but I have this thought about catharsis that leads me towards pain as an answer.  I think that if I were brought to a place with pain, a place where my psyche was overwhelmed by the sensation of the pain, that I would let go emotionally.  That I would then be able to drop all the multitudes of thought and refuse that floats around in my mind and be allowed to just experience the sensation and feelings.  That is how I think about sub-space.  Am I right about that?  I’m not sure.

I do know Mr. D has brought me to that place through some of the things he’s done and not necessarily through pain.  So, perhaps I’m off base.  I don’t know.  But I feel a need to explore this lifestyle, to explore my feelings through it, to push the envelope.  I’m very fortunate to have found Mr. D to walk with on this path.