Just Say No

lying

I’ve decided that turning people down is never going to be easy for me. It’s never going to feel like the right time, it’s never going to be something that doesn’t bother me, or that I enjoy. I get majorly stressed, and so I tend to avoid it by, um, continuing to see people I don’t want to be seeing?

I am going to have to just rip off the band-aid. It’s like tackling a monster to-do list. You just do it. You complete each item, you check them off, and at the end you breathe a huge sigh of relief and you never have to think about those things again. 

Carrying this stress and trepidation around is no good. I just need to get it over with, and then I’ll be done.

Farg.

I am going to stop seeing The Sadist. You’ll have noticed that I’ve never written in detail about what we do. This is a sign to me that something is wrong. I don’t write about it, because frankly, thinking about it squicks me out. I invariably end up having my boundaries pushed, but not in a way that feels good.

What it boils down to, is the fact that we have different kinks–period. I never thought I’d find someone too kinky for me, but it seems to have happened. Different things excite us, different things turn us on, and it has been a struggle to find that balance. Compromising in sex, with someone I am not even in a relationship with, seems pointless. Neither of us is ever going to be completely satisfied, so I will just have to tell him, no matter how much we enjoy each other’s company.

As for Sugar Daddy, I know I need to cut him loose, but for some reason I can’t seem to. I need to figure out the reasons why I am having such a difficult time with this. I don’t even like him–he sucks.

1) I don’t like the idea of knowing other women have him, and I don’t. It doesn’t matter that I don’t want him.

2) I don’t like the idea of Jailbait “winning”. It doesn’t matter that he is not a prize. Doesn’t matter that he has absolutely zero emotional attachment to her whatsoever. It doesn’t matter that he pisses on her, and makes her lick his girlfriend’s ass. What matters is that–as unfeminist and jr. high as this sounds–she stole him from me. It will piss me off if she thinks she won. It will piss me off if I think she won.

3) He was my first lover in the city. He was the first person I got to know, and spent time with, when I moved here. In a way, I associate the city with him. I associate my life here with him. His condo was my first home away from home.

4) I know he will always want me. I know he will never stop craving sex with me. He is addicted. Like an ass, he told me that I am better in bed than Jailbait and his girlfriend. I don’t think he is lying, because of the way he has behaved when I have cut him off in the past. Knowing this makes me feel powerful. And until recently, I was addicted to his sex, too. And part of me is afraid to cut him off and then end up feeling like I need his cock again. I am afraid of being broken and feeling like I need him again. I would rather stay than go crawling back.

5) He is persistent. He is a freaking hound dog. He does not give up. If I tell him I no longer want him, he won’t accept it. He will continue to try to get be back. He will say things–sweet things, awful things. He will try to tempt me. He will try to hurt me. He will tempt me. He will hurt me. I am afraid of this. I am afraid of my response. I am afraid that we will be on-again, off-again, on-again, 0ff-again, on-again, off-again, into infinity.

None of this is good. None of these are good reasons. I just need to find the strength. I need to trust myself. But my track record isn’t so good, so I don’t trust myself.

 


One Day (but not today)

In my last conversation with Sugar Daddy, after telling him multiple times, on no uncertain terms, that I was no longer his to use and abuse, he said “I will wait for you to miss the sex and apologize.”

“Keep waiting,” I replied.

“Okay. And while I’m waiting, Jailbait is coming up next weekend–and she got her tongue pierced!”

He ripped a scab off a wound that was just starting to heal. It was then that I decided, that in addition to blocking him on my phone, I was going to have to block him everywhere.

Things have been peaceful since–at least in relation to that.

And I have been doing better.

But tomorrow is the beginning of “next weekend”…the weekend where he will, once again, be giving her all the things he could never manage to give me. At least physically. I know she isn’t going to be getting the love that he withheld from me. I know she won’t be getting commitment or respect, either. I know he isn’t going to give her the truth–that in that regard, we are the same…and we’ll be the same in the end when he tosses her aside.

Knowing all of this doesn’t make me feel any less alone, though. Truth be told, I miss him. I miss the person that I thought he was. I miss his sense of humour and his cuddles and the way he made the world disappear. But it’s like waking from a dream–delusions aren’t meant to last. I am grateful that I found out when I did instead of much later. I loved him hard. I loved him in a reckless, self-destructive way. I will always care for him, and I know that, and it doesn’t mean that it has to hurt. It is just the way I am wired–when I love someone, I love them forever. He is now on the list.

cancer

Despite the fact that I know I am better off without him, this weekend will be hard for me. Ordinarily I’d drink, and then go out and get fucked every night. But I am trying to be different–to do what is best for me regardless of what anyone else is doing. I will admit that part of my instinct to go wild is based on my desire to compete with him. I want to prove that I am hot and desirable–I want to override the memories of me sitting at home alone, burning with jealousy, while he fucked someone else for 72 hours straight and pretended it didn’t mean anything.

I don’t need to do that. It is not a contest. He can continue to lie and cheat and break hearts, and that has nothing to do with me anymore. Still, I feel like I need a plan–to avoid dwelling. I don’t want to distract myself from what’s missing in my life, I want to focus on what I do have. I have a family who loves me, that I will spend quality time with this weekend. I will chase my children with water guns, hunt for shapes in the clouds, and watch Disney movies.

I have a young(ish) body that deserves my care and attention. I will run. I will do yoga. I will play Just Dance with the husband, and I will curl my body against him in bed. He is the one who has been there for me since before I was really even an adult. He is the one who has stayed, through all the ups and downs. He is the one who knows his limitations and is willing to let me explore my own needs and possibilities outside of him.

One day, I will have sex for 24 hours straight. One day, I will find a Daddy who is committed to investing in me, not just dumping his cum inside me. One day I will fall in love again and the hole in my heart that needs to be protected, challenged and adored will be filled.

That day is not today. And that’s okay.


Radiant as the Sun

radiant

 

I am still trying to get a handle on all of this.

I am one of those pathetic girls, staring blankly ahead, saying “I don’t understand. I just don’t understand.”

In my head, in the logical part of my brain where facts reign supreme, I know it was not me–it was him.

He wanted to do whatever he wanted, and have me go along with it.

He called me crazy, because I was upset, and he didn’t want me to be.

I know this.

But the rest of me…the part that has been ripped into a billion pieces and left for wild animals to pick over…doesn’t get it.

It’s like having a great conversation with a good friend who, out of nowhere, punches you in the face.

It’s like flying on a reputable airline and having a good natured flight attendant pick you up, kicking and screaming, and hoist you through a window into free fall.

It’s like floating lazily down a river and being suddenly sucked into a whirlpool, gasping for breath, fighting for life.

It’s like none of those things. Because I saw it coming. I saw. I just couldn’t accept it. His misogynistic comments about other women made me feel like I was on the inside–like he would never tell me about those things if he was going to do it to me. Like I was above all of that–special.

He said he loved me, and then he didn’t anymore.

I know that the fact is, he never loved me. It was never true.

But the way he held me, looked at me, spoke to me…

Did I drive him away?

Why couldn’t I just have sucked it up?

Why couldn’t I just have taken it? Been submissive? Known that scraps are better than starvation?

Bad thinking. This is bad thinking. A submissive, despite what he says, is a person, not a thing.

He gave me nothing.

He was willing to spend on me. He was willing to give time as long as it didn’t interfere with whatever else he wanted to be doing. He was willing to fuck me silly because HE wanted to be fucked silly. He was willing to take me out and show me off so that he could feel like a stud. But giving isn’t giving if he isn’t willing to actually sacrifice. Giving isn’t giving if it doesn’t actually cost anything.

All I wanted was his time. His reassurance. For my place to be real, but he couldn’t do that.

I have met with two other Doms in the past little while. I met with them because they were specifically looking for secondary baby girls and I knew I wasn’t going to do that, so it seemed harmless. It distracted me, got me out of the house, and gave me people to hang out with.

The one would like to get together again, but he can’t this week. Why not? Because his young one has been out of town, and he is going to “fuck her for a week straight” now that she is home.

The second one would like to continue to hang out, but won’t if his baby girl is uncomfortable with it.

They are out there–Daddies who actually consider their baby girls more important than getting their dick inside as many chicks as possible.

They are out there–Doms who understand that while they call the shots, their love for their little one dictates that they put her first.

I applauded them both. I may have actually clapped. Good for you. Do it right. LOVE her. Make her happy. Understand that your power does not make her less of a person.

So why is it that I cannot stop questioning myself? Feeling like I am the reason why I cannot get a Dom to stick it out? Why do I feel like I need to delete his number from my phone so that I will not contact him? Why do I feel like if it hadn’t been for Jailbait, we could have been so happy? We could have gone for 20 years, like he said he wanted to? Because I would have. I would have gone for 20 years. But if it hadn’t been her, it would have been someone else.

He lied to Yoga Girl. He lied to The Girlfriend. And he lied to me. But I was the one who got thrown out, because I caught him. I called him on it. I wouldn’t let it go. I wouldn’t lay down and die.

It’s not him, it’s me.

It’s me.

Because I am a person.

Because I deserve more.

Because despite the fact that I worshipped him like I worship the sun, I could not allow this.

I didn’t come first, but that’s okay, because I put myself first.

I am my own light. My own warmth. My own sun.


I don’t know (Part III)

(I don’t know part I)

(I don’t know part II)

Oh, fuck. Where do I even start?

Daddy texted me on monday morning saying it was kind of depressing waking up that morning with no beautiful women beside him. The following exchange took place through out the day, alternating between text messages and phone calls.

I thought about replying with “I’m depressed too,” but went with “Hear from Jailbait?”

“Yes,” he said. “She is so horny she can barely think and wishes she was still in town!”

“You should probably consult the guild before you add another. I think your lover, your girlfriend and your baby girl could probably take you.”

“LOL”

“I’m serious.”

“She is not going to move down, just visit once in awhile.”

“She better know her place. I have nails.”

“Be nice. I think she has a crush on you.”

“She does not.”

“Okay. I think she’s cute and fun, but I am not sharing my baby girl status with her. She can have you as a man, but despite my best efforts, I just can’t share my Daddy. Nor am I competing for bedspace and shower time.”

“Point taken.”

“I told her she is never to call me Daddy again. That is just for you.”

“Good.”

“She may be up this weekend, but after that we won’t see her for a couple months.”

“Oh, for fuck’s sake!”

“She’s never going to take your place. Settle down.”

“Tell that to my 24 hours of body wracking sobs.”

“Well, TALK to me next time you are upset! I am not a mind-reader.”

“I didn’t want to monopolize the situation while she was still there. That wouldn’t have been fair to Jailbait. Hence my waiting until you were both asleep for the sobbing to commence.”

“Sigh. You’re my slut. She’s a slut in training. When she’s here for the weekend she will be my focus because she’s up from out of town. You get me all the time.”

“Not the way she does!”

“Really??? You get all of me tomorrow.”

“So if you are going to focus on her then be honest, but don’t promise me shower and patio sex and middle of the night fucking and then take it back because you used it all up on her!”

“Hey, not fair! I had plans to use you HARD–but my cock got bent in half and kind of messed up my plans.”

“Also, let’s recap. No middle of the night sex for me EVER, no total domination for me EVER, no patio sex or showers for me EVER. I have never had those things, so no, I don’t get you the way she does.”

“You haven’t slept over before so that kind of eliminates some of those.”

“Have I been asked to? No, I have not.”

“I did so ask you. And keep being a whiny bitch. We won’t do patio time in the sun tomorrow, we’ll do you domination time.”

“Until you rectify this situation I will pass on any more time with her. You haven’t asked me to sleep over for a specific date. You need to ask me for real and let me know. And if you didn’t go back on plans to take me away for a weekend we could have the whole weekend too.”

(If I go away for the weekend, my husband’s parents will come get him and the kids and spend the weekend with them at the cabin. He is not comfortable asking them to do that if I am going to be in town for the weekend, since there is no reason for me to be gone for days at a time if I am just hanging out up the street. We don’t have a car yet so he can’t just take the kids there by himself, and his parents would have to do 4 3 hour round trips.)

“Do you know why I haven’t planned a weekend with you? Because things come up at work all the time! I planned to go to Mexico in August and now that is not going to happen because I have too much work. I booked off (local festival) week in JANUARY and I just found out I can’t go because I need to be at a presentation. (Festival name) is like Christmas to me. It’s when I see all my old friends, it is my favourite time of the year. I would rather work December 25th! Would it be fair to your family for me to plan a weekend with you, for you to make your in-laws arrange plans around it, and then for me to have to cancel? That would really suck. I want to take you away.”

“Okay. Well, then you shouldn’t say things if you are not going to follow through. It’s not just this weekend. You said you were going to get me a collar weeks ago when we went shopping and you didn’t. You said you would cuddle with me all night and you didn’t. You say shit all the time and you don’t end up doing it and it makes me feel like I can’t trust you. I feel like half the time you are just talking.”

“The collar thing pisses me off the most of anything you’ve said.”

“I know I have no right to demand a collar, if you don’t want to collar me that’s fine, but just don’t tell me you’re going to and then not do it! If you change your mind, just say ‘I changed my mind, you’re not ready to be collared–‘”

“Stop. I looked for collars. There was nothing there. Did you see anything when we were there?”

“Yes, I did!”

“I’m not going to buy you some cheap piece of shit. I am going to collar you when I find the right collar. Do you know how many collar I have bought in my life?”

“No.”

“Two! I take it very seriously. You are going to be my little collared slut, and you are going to wait until I find a collar that is right for you. Do I make myself clear?”

Heat spread through my body. I suddenly felt like I was in the eye of a storm. “Yes, Sir.”

“That’s better. The one thing I do feel really bad about is not spooning with you all night. I passed out in the middle. I was not happy about it. I wanted to be beside you all night and I wanted to fuck you all night. I wanted that time with you.”

“Okay, Sir.”

“Do you really feel like you can’t trust me?”

“Yes. I need you to either not say things, or to follow through on them. I’m sorry if you don’t like that,  but that’s just the way I am.”

“I say things because I want them to happen. I’m not just blowing smoke up your ass. Not everything is going to happen right away, but if I say something, we will do it.”

I sighed. “I need you to tell me what to do.”

“What do I want you to do? I want you to know that I think you’re outstanding. Girlfriend is number 1, but you’re number 2, and you don’t need to be jealous. Jailbait isn’t even in the same realm. She was sucking my dick, while you and I were talking about economic policy and race relations. She has nothing on you.”

“Wait, I’m not number 2. What about Yoga Girl?”

“I’m her lover on the side. You and I have more than that.”

“Okay, Sir.”

“When can you spend the night with me?”

“Wednesday.”

“If you can, no one will be happier than me.”

“I’m glad we are able to have problems…and work through them.”

“Me too, Sir.”

“Daddy loves you.”

“I love you too, Daddy.”

(Stay tuned for the next episode, in which my dumping him is completely ignored)


I don’t know (Part II)

(I don’t Know Part I)

Jailbait came over on Friday. Daddy gave her a crash course in D/S, while I was at work. He sent me photos of her tied up, of her with her ass covered in welts, of him with his dick inside her. He sent me the text “Just de-virginized her ass.” I turned off my phone.

The next day when I made it over to join them, Daddy said he was surprised I hadn’t asked if I could come over the night before.

I mumbled something and tried to swallow my jealousy, but I was thinking: You didn’t invite me.

Okay, that isn’t exactly true. He DID ask me to spend the whole weekend. For reasons that will be explained in Part III I couldn’t. So I suppose he would have been fine with me coming over that evening and then going home, but it hadn’t occurred to me, and I still felt I hadn’t been asked.

When I arrived at the condo and texted Daddy to let me in, he responded with a picture of her tied up, blind-folded, gagged, and filled with toys. “This is what’s waiting for you.”

 

When I got inside he told me she was mine for the next half hour. I breathed “hey slut”, into her ear. I stroked her while she lay there with muffled moans coming from her throat. Her blonde hair was a mess and her size H boobs wiggled as she writhed. I licked her pussy and played with the toy that was in her ass. Eventually she wiggled out of the blindfold.

“Did I say you could take that off?” I asked.

“No,” she smiled. “But you are really fucking gorgeous.”

We kissed. I wrapped my tongue around hers. I spanked her and whipped her until she begged to be let out of the restraints.

“Please?” she said. “Let me lick your pussy.”

“Well…since you asked nicely.”

 

When we were done playing, Daddy said he was going to fuck me. “It’s too long since I’ve been in that pussy,” he said. He fucked me from behind while Jailbait used her dildo on herself, and eventually I took it and used it on her, playing with the settings. When she started to scream, Daddy said “Well, it looks like you found the right one!”

We fucked for a couple hours, taking turns with each other. Me attempting to dominate her, and her being a little smart-mouthed masochist trying to accrue more beatings.

Jailbait likes it rough. When I smacked her pussy she came in ways she never did when I was playing nice.

I was having a good time, even though she was an 18 year old brat who was clearly competing with me.

“I have an extremely tight pussy and ass!” she declared proudly.

I smirked at her as not one, but two condoms broke, one after the other, while Daddy was entering me because I was just that fucking tight.

“I’m wet all the time,” she bragged on the patio.

I opened my legs and Daddy commented that I am a slip and slide. Don’t fuck with me, princess. I will take you down.

Still, she was a young girl. I have shared my doms before and I have shared my boyfriend, and I never felt I was in competition, but she was still lacking the life experience to know that other women are not her enemy.

Daddy went to get us dinner, and Jailbait and I sat on the patio and talked. We traded rape stories like we were trading recipes. My heart went out to her and I just wanted to pat her head and feed her grapes.

When the conversation turned to Daddy, I said. “I love him.”

She talked about how much they’d fucked the previous day, and I resisted the urge to throw in my own stories about him taking me for hours and hours and hours.

She mentioned how much she loved older men, and I agreed.

“You’re adorable,” I said. “But if you call him Daddy, I will cut you.” She needed to know.

“I already did,” she replied flippantly. Now, I should have dragged her inside by her hair and beaten her until she promised never to do it again, but I didn’t. Instead I jokingly mentioned it to Daddy when he got back and said, “She called you Daddy? She’s not calling you that. She can call you Pops,” I smirked.

He looked sheepish. I could tell he knew it wasn’t okay that she’d said that, and that he should have put a stop to it before I had to.

“I guess she ran out of dom names.”

“Then I’ll get her a thesaurus.”

 

We ate, we talked, we drank, we fucked. Daddy whispered that he was so happy I was finally spending the night, and that he couldn’t wait until we got a chance to have a sleepover, just us. Maybe he meant it, but I felt like he was just trying to placate me.

 

While we were going at it as a group of three, Daddy’s dick somehow got bent in half. He was in serious pain and wound up curled up on the bed. Jailbait had been told that she was to sleep on the end, I would be in the middle, and Daddy would be beside me. Totally fair, I thought, since she’d got him all to herself the previous night, this was Daddy’s and my first night together, AND I was his baby girl. But Daddy passed out, and Jailbait curled right up beside him. I was on the other side of him, but I was still mighty pissed.

Daddy had promised to spoon and fuck me all night, and to take me out on the patio and fuck me out there, but I guess his sex injury made that impossible. Still, I was extremely upset as I lay there for hours, dripping and burning, with his one arm around me and the other around her.

I couldn’t sleep, so around 4 A.M. I got up and made a drink. As soon as I finished it, the tears started flowing and didn’t stop.

When Daddy finally woke up and realized his arm was around Jailbait and I was curled up on the end of the bed, he moved towards me and wrapped me in his arms.

“Are you crying?” he whispered.

I shook my head no.

“Why?” he asked.

I shook my head again, knowing that if I were to speak, I would begin to sob.

Because you didn’t fuck me all night. Because you dominated her the way you have never dominated me. Because you slept beside her when you said you were mine until morning. Because you let her call you Daddy and that word is mine!

Minutes later we were fucking. Daddy’s alarm clock went off in the middle of it, and when he got up to turn it off, Jailbait woke up. He climbed back into bed and said “Want me to finish you off, honey?”

Jailbait and I both said “Yes,” at the same time.

He turned to her. “We were fucking while you were asleep. I’m going to fuck her, and then you’re next.”

He moved me to the end of the bed and pounded me. I tried not to cry again.

After he’d fucked her, and we had breakfast, he fucked us both again.

While she was in the bathroom I asked if he’d fuck my ass before I had to go, if we had time. He said “I will try. I need to fuck her at least a couple more times since she came all the way from (insert city name here).”

“If you have time,” I said again.

He snuggled me and told me how happy he was to have woken up beside me that morning. “Even if you were upset,” he added.

“I’m fine.”

“I was happy you were there,” he whispered into my ear.

“I was happy too,” I lied.

When Jailbait returned, Daddy said to me “There’s only room in the shower for two, so either you can shower with Jailbait, or I can.”

I resisted the urge to stomp my foot. He’d promised me we’d shower together.

“You can,” I said instead.

“Are you sure? Because I’ve showered with her twice already, I don’t mind hanging out while you two shower. But either way we need to get in the shower soon because I need to take her to the greyhound.”

“I don’t care,” I said, in a tone that conveyed the very opposite.

He sighed and said, “Okay.”

 

Jailbait snuggled up to me while Daddy was in the other room. I ignored her until she moved away. I just couldn’t.

Daddy fucked my ass before I left, and then hers.

“I have to go,” I said. It was true. I was supposed to have left half an hour before, and he knew that.

“Okay,” he said, with his dick in her ass.

I got dressed slowly, and kissed him softly on the mouth, and then kissed Jailbait with tongue.

“Hey,” said Daddy. “I want a real kiss.”

I kissed him again and tried to mean it.

“I want another one,” he said, his dick still inside her.

I tried again.

Then I said my goodbyes, left the condo, and immediately burst into tears. I cried on the whole bus ride home. I cried in my apartment until my husband sent me to bed because I had cold sweats and was violently shaking. I woke up crying, and cried until my eyes were nearly swollen shut. I cried as my kids ran around the play area of McDonalds, I cried as I returned my Daddy’s text messages, and I cried until my husband had to fuck me just to make it stop.

Then I sent Daddy a photo of us fucking. Because payback’s a bitch.

(Stay tuned for part III)