When skeletons open closet doors

June was a roller coaster of emotions.

As a woman, politics had me fuming.

We can all agree that inflation is insane, adopt me so I don’t have to think about it.

But today I would like to discuss a skeleton that has magically risen.

We all have skeletons in our closets.

This particular skeleton is no stranger to my blog, first mentioned 6/2/22 (basic summary)

I met someone awhile later. He seemed way out of my league, and I could not figure out why he liked me. He had the best surprises like randomly dropping of art supplies at my door so they would be there when I woke and hand painted chocolates. It went on for two magical years and then I found out he was and had been married the whole time, that I didn’t know anything real about him and then he was gone. He left silently and I never heard from him again.  I was played and never saw it coming.  I still dream of him sometimes. He was my first DOM, he was who trained me.  We were deeply connected or was that just me? I could almost write a book on our experiences. 

To humanize the skeleton, we shall call him “M”

It’s important to note that I did not see myself as a companion with “M”, what we had was beyond that. Young and impulsive. We were the same age, even though it seemed he was always teaching me everything from the bedroom to blending in with his world that terrified me. He made me feel special even though I didn’t feel as though I deserved to be naturally by his side.

This was the man who trained me as a submissive.

He was strict, but in a positive way that I felt helped me improve how I carried myself. Small things like language, posture, tone and appearance were all important and carefully noted. Feedback from both of us would be sent to one another at the end of every day via email along with any homework I was given. This was done by email so there would be no way I could say I did not see it and could review as many times as needed.

I know, the term homework seems odd to some, but It’s considered pretty normal in a kink relationship. This could include short stories, photos, video, exercise and chapter/article overviews. It’s not unheard of to write lines and really its anything a man (or woman) can think of.

Over a year goes by and within one confusing day, he was gone. I frantically sent emails and they were returned. Phone was disconnected. I went to every place we shared looking for signs of what happened with no answer, but it seemed like he never existed. Was I losing my mind? I questioned if it even happened.

It’s one thing when a partner leaves you. It is a whole other ball game when a submissive has been abandoned by their master. I was broken and felt empty.

Eventually I accepted what had happened (as if given a choice) but was able to happily have other kink partners after admitting my kinks to the hobby community. It was a great earth-shattering decision that ultimately led to my personal healing.

So why I am talking about this?

I woke up one morning and like all Americans, reached for my phone half asleep, making sure there are world fires that require my immediate attention. There was a submission form from my website with a short message, way too personal for me to even try to mask here. I knew it was him but had the thought in the back of my head that it couldn’t be real.

I even tried to eliminate anyone who may have been playing a cruel prank on me. I do a lot of protesting so if someone wanted to retaliate then they could find unconventional ammo, like my emotional trauma. He mentioned something that was so small and specific that I had no further question to the identity of the man texting I was texting.

I was having a panic attack; I had waited for this exact moment to ask “Why?” but never actually thought of what I would say. I also never thought that moment would present itself. Yall know I am a big fan of texting. I write out the message. Delete. Rewrite. Delete. Write. Delete. Type super-fast and send.

Oh shit. I need yall to know that this was an incredibly intense moment for me.

I was already simmering with anger, questions, emotional distress, laughing. I wanted to scream, cry, interrogate and be irrational. I wanted to hear what he had to say while tearing him down simultaneously. You can imagine it was near impossible to gather all those feelings but try visualizing a game of hungry hungry hippo.

I was eventually able to calm down after 2 days of screaming tears.

Growth is necessary but i call bullshit on adulting. I tried to put myself in his shoes. I tried to be angry and only ended up being angry at every man which was poorly timed with politics. After those 2 days of me throwing all of my pent-up anger at him, his response was “Are you going to tell me to fuck off today?”

I waited 8 years for this. What would you do?

How can men be so patient and resilient? I do not know how any man puts up with me, the only answer I can think of is my dick sucking skills. Another observation I have made about men through the years is, when they want something, they put genuine effort into it. If he only kind of wants something, then he will put half ass it. No man will put effort into something that he doesn’t want.

I have seen Sir and DD put in massive amounts of effort and those are both men that I admire in more ways than one. If I choose to serve someone, it has to be someone I respect a great amount and wish to learn from. Being of service to a man that deserves it brings me a great Joy.

I hope you enjoyed having some insight!

Hoping for inspiration to write a throbbing story soon..

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