Dear Daddy (in which my attempts to break up with him are completely ignored)Posted: July 3, 2014
I had a great Canada Day with you. We spent hours in the sun, listening to music, drinking and talking. We traded stories and confided in each other.We fucked incessantly, and you paddled me until my butt was covered in welts. You grilled me a delicious steak with lots of yummy sides, and I was in heaven. I love it when you cook for me. I love everything you do for me. I left on cloud 9, convinced that we were better–that we would be okay.
Last night I slept over at your house. We met your friend for a drink before the three of us went back to your place. I gave you my sexual bucket list weeks ago, and last night we fulfilled my fantasy of having an MMF threesome. I had a great time with you and your friend and I love that you are willing to make my dreams come true.
After your friend left we continued to have sex. You kept telling me to be more quiet–you did not want the police called again or to have complaints filed with the condo board–but you fuck me so hard that sometimes I really struggle to keep it down. You did not ball-gag me because you know how much I dislike it, but I tried to keep my screams muffled by the pillow. But then you were directly on top of me, with your entire body pressed against mine and your face against my face, and I couldn’t use the pillow. You made me come and come and I couldn’t control myself. You threatened me with the riding crop if I did not stop screaming, so I pressed my face into your neck. I usually bite the pillow, and I started to bite you but you said no, so I kissed your neck instead.
Things got blurry. It was hard for me to focus. You told me I better not leave a mark and I didn’t think I did. We fell asleep and spooned all night, and the next morning we woke up and had amazing sex. You said we would shower together, but then you caught a glimpse of yourself in the mirror and yelled at me.
I felt awful when I saw the hickey on your neck. I backed away. You said, “Yeah, you better run.”
You were livid. I have never seen you so angry.
On Canada Day, you’d told me why you are so strict about marks on your body. When you were in college you had sex with a woman who left claw marks down your back. They weren’t just light scratches–you were bleeding, but you didn’t realize it until you were in the shower at the gym. People laughed at you, and when you went to check your back in the mirror you saw that it looked like you’d been attacked by Wolverine. You were so embarrassed you didn’t go back to the gym for days.
You have been very clear about marks on your body. You cannot have that because you go to the same gym as clients and you need to be not covered in nail marks and teeth marks and hickeys.
You told me this, but I thought you were overreacting. It’s a red circle on your upper chest.You yelled at me again when you realized a polo shirt wouldn’t cover it. You will have to wear a collared shirt until it is gone. I’m sure no one will notice, I’m sure no one would care. You have sex–it’s not a big deal.
Except apparently it is a very big deal.
Because while we were getting ready this morning, you couldn’t look at me without glaring and shaking your head.
“I need to know what possessed you?” you demanded.
“I didn’t do it on purpose. It was an accident. I had no idea, I swear to god.”
“Ball gag for a month. I don’t care how much you hate it, you are being ball-gagged for a month!”
I cried, not because I give a fuck about the damn ball gag, but because your anger wrecks me.
You wouldn’t let me shower with you. You poured yourself a glass of orange juice, and told me to get my own damn drink. I decided I would just be thirsty.
“If you ever do this again,” you growled, “Finito. Do you understand?”
I stared mutely at you.
“Do. You. Understand?”
“Yes, Sir,” I said.
“When I’m feeling less homicidal, we’ll take a shower together. But as I feel like drowning you in the tub, I think we should put a pause on that.”
We sat in tense silence for a few minutes. I was exhausted. When you are mad at me, I can’t eat. I can’t sleep. I have been on a roller coaster. The highs and lows are destructive to me, and they are not fair to my family. I am useless at work when we are fighting. I have trouble at home. My family is supposed to have a happier me because of you, not the zombie I feel like I have been on and off for the past several weeks.
“I don’t think I can do this,” I said through my tears. “I piss you off too much.”
You didn’t say anything.
“I need to go,” I said. I gathered my things and headed towards the door.
“Wait,” you said. “First, go get some Kleenex. You’re crying.”
I turned and wandered into the living room, looking for the Kleenex box.
“It’s on the chair by the table,” you said.
I grabbed a couple of tissues and wiped my face.
You led me to the door. “The next time you stay over, here’s how you lock the door.” You showed me something that I paid no attention to–something about pulling a lever or pressing a button to lock up from the inside. “But once you’re out, you can’t get back in.”
I nodded. I didn’t know why you thought I would need to know that anymore.
I stumbled out into the hall and headed towards the lobby doors without looking back. “Wait,” you said again. I turned.
You kissed me on the cheek and on the mouth. “We’ll get you trained yet,” you said, sounding frustrated but tender.
I swallowed and walked away, still sniffling.
I just want your love.