One size doesn’t fit all

When my dominant gives me a task or hints at one to come and I know he enjoys the play, it always has me on edge. I am excited but at the same time a bit anxious. I never know what he is going to tell me to do. He pushes my limits, broadens my experiences which are quite limited. I am thankful for his guidance, for his insight. He tests me daily, corrects me immediately. Doesn’t allow me to make excuses and for that I truly respect his authority. I have learned so much and pushed myself to experience things I had never even dreamed of. I am learning to be what I always knew I was capable of. My first thought in the morning and the last at night are of my Dom. I feel truly blessed.

Trauma takes many forms and how we react to that trauma at the time or years later impacts everyone differently. With me. both childhood sexual trauma and military sexual trauma have left deep psychological scars. Flashbacks, anxiety/panic attacks, self harm.
For years I was able to push things down, bury it. But then about 18 months ago the floodgates opened and everything came rushing back. I became isolated, afraid and would wake up screaming in the middle of the night. I would get up and turn all the lights on and just sit in a corner, my back to a wall facing the door and just rock myself, or curl myself in a ball until exhausted I would fall asleep.

My career was unstable, my marriage a farce, I was obese and I was miserable. 
I looked at myself in the mirror and despised what I saw looking back at me. I swore to get my life back. I found a counselor, I started working out. I started the process of separation and divorce from a man I no longer had anything in common with.

Bit by painful bit I dragged myself out of the pit of misery that had been my life for so very long. Every day is a new day, a better day. Some days I am on a high, some days on a low. But everyday I move forward. Trying harder, learning something new. I fight every day to heal and become the person I know myself to be. Each night before I sleep I reflect on the things I did right, the things I didn’t and how I can do better the next day.

What does safety actually look like when everything feels too much?
For me safety is knowing when I start to falter, there is someone there who always has my best interest at heart.
The feeling of safety is when I become emotional he guides me to recenter and refocus.
Safety is him reminding me not to stay in the darkness too long and always holding the lantern to lead me back to the path when I wander.
Safety is when I close my eyes, I can feel his presence even when he isn’t near me and that presence both calms and comforts me.

Looking in the mirror and what looks back at me. A woman with haunted eyes.

Do I dare look deeper? See beyond the makeup, behind the mask? Or do I allow my triggers to shatter the mirror, so I don’t have to meet my fears face to face?

Or do I finally take the chance to truly look and say….I see you.

Closets full of clothes mocking me with their mere presence. Hinting at a life long gone. Each item a memory from long ago. Business attire, blazers, skirts, dresses taunting me from the hangers. I run my fingers along the material and remember. I remember the functions, the charity galas, going in to work. And then I look down at what I am wearing; sweatpants and an oversized tshirt with fuzzy socks. I sigh as I turn away, making my way to my prison cell/ home office. There my three computer screens await. My life, the four walls of my office. The silence broken by my fingers tapping against the keyboard. My heart grows cold, my brain numb as I pull up yet another document to work on. My life reduced to this small home, jaunts to the gym, going for a walk or to the grocery store and occasionally seeing my grown children. Longing for meaningful conversation outside the confines of work. I turn yet again to look at my closet full of clothes as a single tear makes its way down my cheek.

When she is left alone to her own devices with too much time on her hands, her mind begins to wander. She starts imagining things and falling down the rabbit hole. Doubt, loneliness and mistrust begin to seep in. She needs to feel wanted, cherished, needed, to feel both emotionally connected and mentally challenged. Silence is her kryptonite. Dismissal and coldness cause her to turn into herself. The walls begin to rebuild for protection.

When she is left to her own devices, she feels lost. This previously confident and independent woman starts to question everything she thinks about herself. Her self-esteem and self-worth take a beating and she is left afloat with no sense of direction and no lifeline. 
And the fear and anger build. Pressure building until it explodes in the worst way possible. 

When you lie awake in the darkness imagining servicing your Master. His hand upon your throat, his teeth scraping against your nipple, it sends a shiver down my spine. 

When he pushes you beyond your experience and you feel overwhelmed in the moment, but when it has passed you feel elated knowing your Master is pleased with your submission.

And on the rare occasions when he gifts you with the phrase you long to hear, “Good Girl”, your heart burst with joy.

And yet here I lie in the stillness of the night, wearing his shirt for comfort, missing his control, longing for his dominance and  praying for sleep to calm my body and mind. And still my mind always wanders to him. My body aches for him, my ears longing to hear his voice. But to no avail. Sleep eludes me as I lie here in the dark, staring at the ceiling lost in musings.

I often wonder if people actually read a person’s profile anymore? Especially when they clearly state that they are owned. And they have asked ever so politely to be respectful of that relationship. And yet they still send dick pics describing what they would like me to do with it. Or they want to still attempt to “lure” this poor little submissive away from their Master. 
Whatever the reasoning, let’s be clear. Your  unsolicited pictures are not welcome. I am very happy with my Dominant and would never dream of disrespecting him by flirting with another Dominant. Have some class gentleman. And I use that term loosely. 
I am not talking about individuals that I previously interacted with, who respect my relationship. I am talking about those who I have had no previous communication with that seem to think it is okay to contact me in a familial way. It is not appreciated.

Do I sometimes wish I could wake up every morning and look forward to serving my Dominant. I do. But that isn’t my reality. Instead, I cherish the time we do spend together. 
When I hear his voice it both calms and excites me. I find my mind constantly wandering to the times we are together and I smile. My body remembers his touch. The mere thought of him has my body reacting. Unfortunately, my mind has a habit of thinking of him at the most inconvenient of times. Not a fun thing to become aroused in the middle of a meeting or while working out in the gym, or while grocery shopping. 

At these times, I have to laugh at myself and think how in the world did I go from hosting charity events to becoming this needy little tramp whose mind wanders constantly to being my Dominant’s personal toy? 🤭 And realizing I am so much happier now.

I spent 28 years in a strictly Vanilla marriage. No toys, nothing outside of missionary. Any hint or word asking for more was met with derision. Being told those thoughts or desires were sinful or deviant. The one toy I had the courage to buy myself was thrown away and I was berated for purchasing such a thing. 
Ten minutes start to finish and him rolling over to sleep. Meanwhile, I lay there staring up at the ceiling unfulfilled. I became good at waiting g for him to sleep and in complete silence masturbating for release. But the bitterness grew, the longing for more.

I took a job that required that I travel out of state for months. Once again I bought myself a toy. The enjoyment I gleaned from it made me giddy. The contracts continued to come in 4 years on the road, children grown and nothing left binding me to a man who treated me as nothing more than an ATM. I finally found the courage to walk away. 
Shortly after that I made friends with someone in the lifestyle. He had his own submissive but encouraged me to explore. Even giving me websites to visit for research. I met someone, on one of these websites. We talked a bit and agreed to meet. He opened me to things I had never experienced before. Unfortunately, for reasons I cannot go into for his privacy it didn’t work out. But the experience had me craving more. Despite many obstacles I was facing in my life and with little to no experience in the lifestyle I went back on the site. I met a wonderful Dominant. I wasn’t exactly sure what to “label” myself. My test had me leaning toward “Switch”. I imagine if I take the test now it might be quite different. We change, we evolve. What struck me most was his voice on the phone. Strong, firm, commanding but with a definitive sense of protectiveness. 
I will honestly say I fell hard. Here is the thing, when you don’t truly understand the lifestyle you make mistakes that in a vanilla relationship may not seem like a big thing, but in a D/s relationship are critical errors. And those mistakes were deeply disrespectful.
For me I should have taken time to heal after my divorce. I should have better understood the lifestyle before jumping in. Through all this I have grown, I have learned. I have learned that every dynamic is different and as diverse as the people within the lifestyle. I have met some wonderful people in this lifestyle and some not so nice people as well. 
I am so thankful that I didn’t throw in the towel and walk away. I learn things about myself daily. I have an incredible Dominant that challenges me. That pushes me to be better, to become the confident, beautiful woman that he sees. I am forever grateful for his guidance. There is one thing I know for certain, I can never go back to a vanilla relationship. There is no turning back for me.