Just a promise.
The problem with planning a day like this is there are always surprises. I completely missed that Tara was not ready to marry us. I didn’t anticipate that she would need comfort for saying no. And I didn’t anticipate having a scene in the car on the drive home. I’m completely exhausted. I don’t think I have another scene in me. At least not for a few hours. But how do I stall is the question.
The ladies are using the bathroom before we start again while I wait. I’ve dragged a stool to the center of the room and sit here pondering the next step. It’s not about sex. Though, for us, that’s a part of it. Maybe I need to bring us back to focus.
I walk into the bedroom. The sounds of our shower drift through the open door. A clear invitation but not what I think is needful, though it makes me smile. My girls are always very happy and considerate. Except when they are angry or sad or upset. They are by no means dolls.
But it’s my job to get them to here, where the world can’t touch us. And they make it so that my anxiety doesn’t spill out and sink me into depression. Because, I can’t think about my darkness when they are in need and by the time they are taken care of and I get a ‘Yes, Sir’ confirmation, all that inner turmoil has gone. Replaced by the deep glow of Dominance float.
For me that means a deep well of calm and light settled below the absolute certainty of control and love. It’s the best feeling in the world. I highly recommend it.
I am browsing through the closet for an outfit for my girls. Something matching perhaps? Or no, something suited to the next task. And despite my current inability to perform, I find myself excited to run my hands across the sweet flesh of Sara and Tara, after all I’m not a robot.
The black silk dress pants and cream blouse for Sara. No panties. I want her to feel the brush of silk over sensitive places.
For Tara, a walking harness made of white soft lace and the pink leash with the silver hearts.
I carry my selections out to the bedroom and lay each item out. Pants first, then blouse, then harness then leash. The anticipation builds in me. Pressure welling in my pelvis. A tightening that strums me like a violin string. Right! Music…
John Coltrane, “A Love Supreme” in its entirety. Perfect. The first strains spill out into the room calling like a siren. Luring my intrepid sailors to shore.
It has been a while since I have been with anyone at this time of year. Mostly I’ve been alone. But I am with someone and she is amazing. But, I post things for her and write things for her. I record things for her. So how to make this special? How to differentiate from the poetry and song? Perhaps just speak plainly? As much as I am capable of doing so, anyway.
We started well. As friends. Getting to know each other through what we write. Hearing your thoughts on what I was working on at the time. (Split Sky)
And little by little I felt like I wanted more. To get to know you more and I vaguely worded it. And you said you wanted in. Just flooring me. That a vague post would prompt exactly the right person. For the blog world, what a delightful meet-cute. And further down the road was cut up and rocky but eventually you found your way back to my door. And my arms. You are mine, my goddess of my heart. I hold you there. Carry you with me. Dream of you. Things are difficult but I think promising.
We’ll get everything we want, if we can hold together.
I love you. Never doubt it.
Valentine’s day. A day supposedly to demonstrate love to your partner(s). To plan something elaborate. I’m even writing a story based on Valentine’s day. Though that is more about celebrating the more social normative things while existing and living in nonnormative lifestyle. To use it as a excuse for play and special rather than the one or two days a year that people keep as special.
That is the rub. Valentine’s day is one of possibly 3 days a year that it is expected to be special. And most people leave it at that.
That is my problem with it. I may do something special because in our USA society it is ingrained and even if you don’t like it, not doing something is disappointing. But I don’t enjoy being forced into it.
I like romantic gestures and gifts. I like planning scenes or nights out. Writing poems or stories only you will ever see. I consider it vital that any partner of mine is cherished and knows, not just intellectually but bone deep that I love them.
And in a relationship that is all of the little things and small moments compounded by larger gestures.
I guess I just don’t like to be told this is the day you will know my affections. Plus I think the gifts and gestures should be throughout the year. No specific day should be needed for you to know how they feel.
I have friends who are in problematic relationships and while I don’t intervene because doing so would only cause resentment what I’m thinking is this: They made a big gesture when it was socially expected that they would but how do they treat you day to day, how do they demonstrate their love?
Note: Not abusive, problematic. Abusive and I don’t care if they end up hating me, I’ll take action.
I have the almost overwhelming desire to text my storm and bid her happy Valentines day. She’d either see it as intrusion or as a friendly gesture and as it is neither I refrain. As I must, for though I love, it is not enough. The longing itself is not enough. So once more I let her go. Reluctant I turn my attentions to others who may receive it as welcome.