It was one of those nights...We were in bed, talking and giggling. Close. Then he said something. Not something new, not something surprising, not something out of the very deepest darkest boxes, something truthful, something long ago accepted...But I got hurt. His surprise was palpable, his disappointment tangible...
For a few years, he had time. Time and energy. There was a micromanaging aspect to which I had grown terribly accustomed, and it's gone now. No time. No energy. I have been making a hundred tiny decisions a day. Word decisions. A "must" or a "may", sounds so small but defines how an entire business will function on the ground. There are so many words in my head, so many little decisions that make big differences. Those words don't go away. Always there is little miss independent...I absolutely cannot shut off. Ever. I eat, drink, live, sleep, and dream it. Every. Fucking. Moment.
Even right now...I have a call this morning, and I'm not really ready for it. So I'm writing this, and its there in the back of my mind, swirling problems and questions, intricate needs and a lack of understanding about how something is going to work. Nagging at my brain...
I've run so far from him. Not fast. Just a slow steady retreat, until the gulf was so great...Until he showed me again, a not so strange peek into his box of darkness. A simple thing, long ago agreed upon. Because submission is not about what comes easy.
Slavery is not about the desires of the slave. It's about one's willingness to accept things which one is absolutely unwilling to experience...He reminded me that it is all or nothing, that if I draw a line somewhere then this reality is just a fallacy, an illusion, a game to be tucked away on the shelf.
If I balk at this concept of another woman, something which has been for so long, that thing held as absolute proof of where we stand and who I am. That I am his and I will do as he wishes, then I'm not all in. And we don't do halfway in.
I can't do it. I cannot function in a relationship, be little miss fucking manager, exist with some sense of stability, without feeling his control. Without that sense of absolute inability to make one single decision. Where it doesn't matter what the world is doing or thinking or how it needs to be fixed, because all decisions are his.
It was one of those conversations that as a little bit miserable, and a little bit hot.
And in the end we landed where we always do. He's the most gorgeous man I've ever known. And his dominance is like crack. He's my drug of choice, my one reality so strong that all other realities fade into him...