I lost an amazing man in my life on June 27. He was my mentor, confidant and my friend, and I loved him deeply and dearly. We did not have a lifetime together but the year we did have together held more than many ever obtain in decades.
I was struggling in my life, my path was unknown and I was having a difficult time getting my footing on the path in front of me. I placed myself in a self imposed cocoon and I healed.
That is when I met Capn Rick here on the Cage. I had written a blog titled the “Silent Scream” and he wrote a comment on how he had never felt that type of pain I had endured but gave the feeling of having his heart placed outside of his chest for a by-pass surgery decades ago. I loved his profile and he sent a private message in kind. And that my friends how it all began.
Capn Rick took me under his mentorship. He gave me a place to heal and really grow. He guided me. He never tried to make me something I was not, but to become me. He did not try to make me his submissive, or to make me what he wanted. He showed me who I was and what I was worth.
I shared my soul with Capn. He was my daily life. We would msg back and forth and we would share a video call multiple times a week. I told him all of my wounds, all of my fears and all of my demons, all of my hopes and dreams. He learned of my family, saw photos of my kids and grands.
I learned that I loved pain. Capn taught me to take the pain of a whip, crop or cane and turn it into pleasure that would scream out beautifully. I carried stunning colors for weeks. Watching them go from deep reds, blues, and purples to the fading watercolors of greens, yellows and browns. Every bruise placed on my flesh gave me strength.
I learned to use ropes. And would take such pride being wrapped in them. Lines of blue and red lashing back and forth across my curves. The lines anchoring my thoughts, securing myself in raging storms next to Capn. I wore ropes daily many times, discreetly beneath my office clothing. I would sleep in the lines. I took it upon myself to start learning the beautiful artwork of ropes.
Capn would take many of my writings and give a professional editing, I learned to be a better writer through his examples. He saw my potential as a budding author. He saw my body image waning and would build me up and never put me down. He saw my fire to become something more in life.
Capn would listen as I spoke of what I wanted in a D/s Dynamic and how I saw the beauty of having that life. He never swayed my thinking and would be supportive in my choosing. He made me think.
We would laugh as we shared our horizon views; his was that of blue lapping ocean waters and mine was that of waving wheat fields. He would send me cards of encouragement and I would write letters sharing my life. Little snippets of our lives shared. We would share photos of our lives- I saw his ships he commanded. I saw the boats he had owned.
I learned of his Naval career and all the years he spent on the seas, from being drafted into Vietnam to his final voyage on his final ship from Japan to the first Gulf war. He joked about a party he held for being retired longer than his career. How he lived on a sail boat while his house was being built- summers on the east coast and winters in the Bahamas. He told of his officers luncheons that he still attended. He spoke of his late wife and grown children. We shared so much.
He taught me how to become a leader and be a submissive all wrapped into one beautiful package. That I had a voice and knew how to use it. He taught me that I was the one who decided what I wanted, that no man was to make that decision-EVER. He knew how much love I held. He knew that I loved deeply. He knew that I loved him too- and he cherished that gift.
I was under his mentorship up until the moment of his death, we spoke that morning. I was having a “moment” and asked; do captains have to go down with the ship? And in his true fashion he gave me a sound talking to, telling me: To stop those negative thoughts, knowing how much strength and grit and determination that I have gained. Telling me to swab the decks and take control of MY ship. and without a beat I came back-not wanting to sink and that I would get my ship under control and bring it safely in. In the span of three hours he was gone. I received notification of his death, and my soul shattered. I was told how much he cared for me.
I never saw him as an 86 year old man. He was so young in heart and mind. Busy in his life keeping healthy swimming, walking, weights and laying in the sun, and going on many adventures. We may have been 35 years apart, but I felt as if we were twin flames, and kind souls who always knew each other.
I will miss him greatly. My heart will hold all the memories, the sound of his voice plays in my thoughts. I will honor him and continue my path of me being a strong beautiful woman. A woman who had found her voice. I will take pride in who I am.
I will continue on with what he gave me and I will be stronger and become the submissive I found myself to be. He would tell me how proud he was of me and how far I have come. I can hear his graveled chuckle as I told him stories and he would be smiling and say “ I am so proud of you subbie girl”
I am going to hurt for a long time. But I know he is always with me. I and I will be ever grateful for the care he gave me.
How we would spend our video chats, loving our banter and cuppa.
The final " goodbye SubbieGirl' a week before his death. he always ended our chat with a kiss.
