To the One who most affected my journey, who was the hardest to let go of… You will never be forgotten. You’re impact on my life will always be. You looked deep into my dark side and pulled from me the demons, settled them and brought my restless spirit into submission. You gave me an experience I will always treasure. I am sure that for a long time You will occasionally stroll through my thoughts. Without doubt a wistful grin will lift the corners of my lips and a sigh will be felt in my soul. I will remember Your words, Your thoughts, Your presence in my life. I thank You for the friendship, for the caring, the direction and the honesty. Thank You for being there for me in what were probably several of the darkest months of my life.

Life brings me to a different path now and appears to be going well for you too, which makes me smile. I wish only the best for Your life and hope that occasionally I will wander through Your thoughts as well. You will find the records of us gone, the secret places removed… nothing more than memories. Thank You for them.

My body is disgustingly unattractive. My breasts are fatty and flabby. I have a stomach roll my doctor once expressed dismay about in a hospital ER. I’m 45 pounds overweight and nothing short of a surgery seems set to change that. I have hair where women should not have hair. I spend inordinate amounts of time and money removing it from my chin, my jawline, my ugly breasts. I know it is caused by steroid injections that saved my life twice upon a time, but understanding doesn’t change it. Hair, where there should never be hair, is ugly.

I stopped shaving my mons because the skin isn’t pink and pretty beneath that coarse brown, curly hair. It’s ugly… dark brown and lumpy from the hair follicles. I try to trim it but really, why am I bothering? No one touches there, even when I have sex. My lover rarely even probes between my labia or inside my sex until he’s ready to use his cock to do so. There’s hair around my anus too… And I’m not flexible enough to remove that. My lover has never told me I’m ugly (and he’d be kindly indignant if I expressed such a forceful opinion on he matter, too), but I still know it’s true.

My face is ugly. My eyes are standard blue, and a genetic condition makes them behave strangely, so some people assume I am ignoring them or being disrespectful when my eyeballs roll about in my head during meetings or interviews. My hair is nondescript brown. My curls turn frizzy and stick out when my hair is cut too short. However, my lover dislikes it long as it gets in the way and in his mouth when we cuddle, and he’s turned off by that. My skin is oily despite expensive skincare products and facials. I am nearly 40 and it’s still likely I’ll have big ugly pimples or ingrown hairs on it any given day… I have one giant cyst under my chin right now.

There are only so many positions to have sex so he doesn’t have to look at or touch my ugly face. He always fucks me from behind, but it wasn’t always that way. Once upon a time he kissed me while we fucked, and when we both came he would kiss my navel reverently. Now my stomach is covered with long brown hairs and is ugly. He hasn’t kissed it in years, even when I fondly remember that out loud.

Tonight, even after I cried, he didn’t kiss me goodnight. We rarely kiss more than a light peck, even to say good morning, goodnight, welcome home. I can’t remember the last time his tongue was in my mouth. But yes I do brush my teeth and they are straight. I crave kisses. I ache for him to slide his fingers into my hair and kiss me silly, but I am satisfied when he kisses my temple and wishes aloud that I was happy. How can I be happy when I am ugly?

Anal sex has always aroused him, and I’m grateful because I can participate in that without turning him off. He’s the only man who has ever been interested in my ugly body. Ever. I’ve been kissed sexually by less than 5 people, and 2 of those were just once. One of those was really a cruel adolescent boy joke. One man smelled awful and we kissed more than once because I thought it might be the last time I was ever kissed. That man was more interested in toying with my mind than looking at me. My husband is the only man I’ve ever had sex with and the only man I will ever have sex with. He can enjoy anal with me from behind. When he no longer wants me, I will be the same ugly female I was at 16, only without hope of physical affection ever again. Even when he doesn’t want to fuck me anymore, I’ll be happy to sink down on my knees and suck him off. He doesn’t have to look at me when I do that.

I do think my feet might be pretty right after a pedicure, but I can’t think of any other part of my body that might be considered pretty, or sweet, or sexy, or alluring. Even my backside is less than it ought to be. It’s neither plump and full, nor trim and fit. It is just there, wrinkly skin and all. Probably has ugly hair on it too, now that I think about it. At least I can’t see it there.

I wish someone, anyone, would tell me I am beautiful. Or even pretty. Or cute.

I almost published this under my online name. Almost. I’m not though. It’s not that I mind you knowing who I am. I’m ugly anyway and I’ve given up on anyone else – male or female – finding me interesting or sexually attractive. I no longer try to flirt, in real life or virtually, with men who are free to flirt. I’ve never been important to anyone but family and my lover. Still, this pity party would hurt the only man who has ever loved me and sleeps beside me now as I cry.

I couldn’t bear that.

My heart loves, fiercely, even if I am ugly. My heart breaks, silently, because I am ugly.

She left a while ago. I can’t pinpoint exactly when or where, but she’s gone now.

What’s left in her place is just a shell.

The shell is fine, and cracked. You can almost see through, almost. Not quite.

Inside is filled with loneliness, sadness at what once was but no longer is.

Too sad to leave. To frightened to start afresh.

Unsure.

Dreaming of something better, stuck in a life she doesn’t want anymore.

I miss the old me, she would know what to do.

She would be unafraid, would know no fear.

But the old me is gone.

I hope she comes back, one day.

I’ve been ill since Christmas and it’s gotten worse. I’m barely able to go without any of the medication I’m required for longer than TWO WHOLE FREAKING WEEKS. I can’t be hospitalised because ALLERGIES and the STUPID SUPER BUGS THAT I CAN CATCH. I’m tired of trying to “fit in” to seem “happy” I’m not. Inside I’m dying, I have no one to really talk to. Family are doing their own things and have their own problems and as for “professional help” I’d rather have someone watch me shit and that’s a HARD limit for me.

It seems I’m slowly giving up all the things I want to enjoy because I don’t know how to bring them out to experience them when I have no one to experience things with. I want love and fucking. Yes I said it love and fucking. I want to be fucked when the need takes us and I want gentle loving when the mood takes us. I want a man who can accept my problems who loves the girl I am inside.

But I live in the past doubting myself even on losing nearly 72lbs and still going with the health issues. I live in fear that if I let myself go again I’ll be walked all over, if I let on that I really am a woman whose never been fucked/had sex/made love then I’ll scare a guy a mile away with my mind. I don’t want a one night stand, or a fuck buddy I want love. But I’m a romantic realist. No ones gonna love me I’m not thin enough, bright enough, happy enough. I’m just a fucking loser.

A week ago I had my very first submissive experience at the hands of a true Dom. I had to drive one and a half hours to meet him, and my fear of what might happen as I got nearer kept bubbling up and nearly suffocated me, filling my car with the most delicious feelings of dread and impending doom. We first met outside a fast food restaurant, and I texted him I was too afraid to get out of my car and go inside.
I nearly leapt out of my own skin when a few minutes later without warning he tapped on my car window. That wasn’t the last time he simply took control of the situation! We sat and talked for quite awhile in my car until I became comfortable with him and the soothing sound of his voice and touch of his fingers on mine. I followed him to his farm, the nervousness returning, my hands like two icy claws on the steering wheel.
He would not help me from my car, telling me I had to do this freely. I have been wanting this for a very long time, and that thought alone pushed me up and out of the car, and I blindly followed him across the tall brown grass. I waited outside the back door while he attended to the alarm, thinking, “I could still leave now,” and then he opened the door and very gently took my by the hand inside the dark house.
He showed me where the bathroom was and offered me water. I was shivering uncontrollably and he took me by the shoulders and ran his hands up and down my back, softly, softly, as one would calm a scared kitten. I was gasping and panting from fear… and he was as tender as any lover could possibly be. I expected brutality and received love from a man who had written me that he did not believe in the “l” word.
After several minutes, my breathing and body temperature returned to normal. It was then that Mr. Kink Dom came out to play. He raised my arms above my head and removed my shirt and bra in the darkness of the bedroom. I nearly hyperventilated when he began trailing kisses and bites down my neck, across my collar bones and down my chest. He led me to the bed and pushed me down, reminding me of my safe words.
Mr. Kink Dom adores breast torture, and began his assault on my nipples with clothespins, graduating to clamps of various types. Before too long I was writhing and gasping, asking for the thermostat to be lowered! I did not expect such care and concern for my well-being; truth be told, I wasn’t at all sure what to expect! At all times I felt safe, secure, and protected – cherished, in fact. He eased my jeans off and slowly pulled my panties down, tossing them carelessly across the room. I thought I would spontaneously burst into flames from that simple act alone!
In the dark he took his toys from the toy box and laid them out beside the bed.
“This is a ruler, this is a narrow rod similar to, but less lethal than a cane, and these are floggers, both light and heavy.” He dragged them across my body and I arched up in pleasure. “I believe we’ll save the canes for another time, baby, but you will taste my belt later.”
He slapped my breasts, already sore from the nipple clamps, and I tensed with joy. “Let’s see how still you can be without me tying you down. Keep your hands up, now.”
Oh, such delicious torture to try and hold still! Oh, the delight of not really seeing what was coming next there in the dark! His hands or that narrow vicious acrylic rod? Mr. Kink Dom just loved sliding it through the air attacking my inner thighs, especially if I flinched away from him…
“Turn over,” comes the quiet command after my breasts are very Very sore and my tummy and thighs are stinging. I quickly obey, and his hands run over my back and ass in the softest caresses. Can this be the same man who whispers in my ear, “Turn your head and look at the paddle…?”
The paddle appears to be thin and oval, and he assures me it will not leave a mark. Too bad, I really did want marks! I hear a soft whoosh and the first whack is not too bad. I start to relax, and maybe he can tell, because the intensity picks up. It really wouldn’t be bad if only Mr. KD would not stay in the same exact area! I try to immerse myself in the pain, flow into it, but maybe because it’s the first time, and I am so nervous, so overwhelmed with emotions, I can’t get into that zone the other subs talk about. I will NOT safe word, I can do this, I want this. It is not so bad, and after all I am not crying or even squealing yet. And then suddenly it’s finished and I feel his hands softly caressing me again and I come down from the twitchy-rabbit scared place.
“Sit up, baby, and drink some water,” and I do. We chat awhile about what I like so far, and what he likes. We laugh about how nervous I was (I don’t say ‘still am’ because I want to continue when he asks whether I do.)
When he pushes me back down to the bed again, without warning, he simply walks to the end of the bed and spreads my legs as far apart as they will go. He ties me down tightly, so tight that I am unable to move my legs at all. I am just slightly scared, but I trust him. We play for a few minutes and then I tell him I want him to tie up my arms as well. I think he is pleasantly surprised. Then he blindfolds me. I am totally at his mercy, and the thought thrills me to the very core of my being.
He told me before we met today that there would be no sex – a decision he made because, he said, it would overload my senses, and he wants to concentrate on pain as pleasure only this time. While this does fill me with regret, I am already feeling tired and on sensory overload, so Mr. Kink Dom truly does know best!
“This is the light flogger.” He trails it across my breasts, down my belly, down, down my naked pussy and over my clit. The feeling is simply indescribable as it comes crashing down on me over and over again, the tails dragging slightly. I am moaning now and pulling against the restraints, writhing and twisting in heady agony, and if I stopped to think about it, I would be singing with joy.
There is a slight pause and I catch my breath.

Fire! There is fire burning in my inner thighs! What could it be? It feels narrow and whippy… but he has not shown me anything different. Ooooo. This will be tough. I am arching off the bed immediately, and epithets are out of my mouth as he approaches my soft tender parts. I try to move away, but it is impossible, and I am unable to protect any part from his assault. He pinches my nipples and twists them harshly, and moves on to what must be the ruler. It has a louder smack but hurts much less. He hits every part of my body, even the soles of my feet, which makes my eyes roll back in my head. Oh yes, Mr. KD knows precisely how to play with his toys!
He tries the heavy flogger next, and I am sighing and cooing like a baby just awake from her nap. It is more thuddy than the light one, and I am loving the smell of the leather as it approaches my skin. I can almost sense where the tails will land; it’s like a guessing game and I am the winner every time! I have lost all track of time. I am thirsty and tired but I don’t want to stop.
I feel him undo the restraints very gently and he pulls me up and rubs my back. I reach for my water bottle. “Are you okay, baby? Do you need to stop now?”
I finish the water in about thirty seconds. “No, I was just very thirsty.”
He chuckles quietly. “All that struggling and panting takes it out of you. We can stop whenever you want.”
“No, I want to continue, please.”
He takes the empty water bottle and I find myself face down on the bed, quickly and efficiently restrained again. One wrist is too tight, and I tell him. He fixes it immediately. He reaches down and twists my hair, pulling it hard, yanking my head back sharply. I gasp in surprise. This is so hot! I feel his hands fingering my ass – my cheeks, and underneath to my wet pussy. He laughs.
He spanks me ass hard, over and over, while he grips my hair. I moan and nearly come just from this act alone. I feel what must be his belt next, followed by the paddle, and it is nearly my undoing. Mr. Kink Dom does have a firm hand indeed. I am cursing and muttering, trying to stay in one piece, trying not to break… and the pain is just so intense. How to deal with this? There is no place I can hide, no place I am safe from the blows he continues to rain upon every inch of my backside.

I Will. Not. Safeword! It is my very first time and I so want to be strong, but maybe I am not being a good submissive after all… maybe in submission I need to find the truly submissive one who knows when it’s over and that giving up is not a sign of failure.

And then it IS over, and the ties are undone, and I am so drained that I can’t lift my arms or legs. He pulls the blindfold off and drags a sheet over my shivering body. I feel him lie down next to me, and he is stroking my arm lightly as I drift off to sleep.

I would have liked to stay the night, but real life intrudes. I napped awhile, and we chatted about our play time. I was afraid perhaps I was a disappointment to him, but he was very pleased; more than that, he was thrilled that I enjoyed myself. I drove home with my head spinning, feeling high, trying to make sense of the past four hours. I will be grateful to Mr. Kink Dom as long as I live.

Little One.

Ps… The writer of this piece has asked me to link it into Wicked Wednesday

I miss serving, I miss being instructed, praised, tasked. I miss the strength of a man who wouldn’t allow me to win when I am feisty. A man who doesn’t let my brat run the show. I miss having a powerful Dom in my life.

Perhaps one day He will stride purposefully and powerfully into my life and reaching for me, with full confidence of my servitude, find me ready to fall at His feet.

Perhaps… someday…

I have given up skype and instant messaging so that you do not have to fear that I would use those venues to meet someone else and run away with them.

I have given up text messaging so that you don’t have to wonder who I’m talking to about what.

I have given up my online relationships (the ones you gave me permission to have) so that your mind is not troubled with just how far I might involve myself with those relationships or the possible threat (imagined possible threat) they might be to ours.

I have given up twitter, tumblr and my blog so that you don’t have to bear witness to my flirting, to my darkest desires and so that my words don’t scare the shit out of you.

I have given up swinging because you said we are no longer swingers.

I have given up flirting… with anyone.

I have given up sharing naughty photos privately or in the online venues (which were approved by you) – there was a time when you loved to show me off, share me with others, now if I post a photo you get irritated and jealous. So I don’t.

I have given up writing as everything I write affects you negatively.

I have given up learning about myself because every new thing I learn about me, you see as a threat to us.

I have given up voicing my thoughts to you to keep the misunderstandings and fighting to a minimum.

I have given up my job so that you don’t have to be alone in the evenings, so that the house is clean when you get home, so that I am available in case you want to do something.

I have given up my home.

I have given up my body’s natural clock and conformed to your schedule.

I have given up making new friends.

I have given up my dreams.

I have given up hope.

I have given up everything for you to be happy and still you are not.

If I give you the very little that is left, I am sure that I will vanish with it. There will only be a very unhappy you and a fragile shell of the woman I once was, the woman I could have been.

I don’t know what else to do. I have given up.

Changes funny how we deal with them.

A lot of things have happened over the past month some good, some indifferent, none that I call bad, though I think a few mistakes have been made. Moving on.

War of the Roses. Dissolving a marriage that lasted quite a long time. There’s no one to blame and no victims here. Just 2 people that forgot to include one another along the way. I’d get up every morning and just want to bash his face in. Of course I wouldn’t do that and the cat didn’t get ran over, nor was it indicated that the dog was used in a pate. We split like… Adults should split. We love each other, but in some cases love can’t fix everything.

Ollie: well here’s another fine mess I’ve gotten myself into.

On twitter I follow a few married couples that are also in the BDSM lifestyle presenting themselves as D/s. I’ve always wanted to experience that. I met a man, within 3 days I was collared. As days went by the evidence was becoming clear that he was in love with me. Over the top love. Stop the presses.

Having been taught in the old school ways I take the collar seriously. It means that I have accepted the commitment to one man as well as other things, I believe the responsibilities vary from couple to couple but carry there own weight in importance. But I’m not in love. This story keeps evolving as it’s happening in present tense. I don’t look past the holidays though, making plans, I don’t see a future, what we want as individuals are different. He knows my position and it’s hard, for both of us. There’s some apprehension on each side. Suddenly he doesn’t trust me, but on the same note I don’t him. Time will tell. Right now he needs someone to care for him, and I happen to be good at caring for others. Or I hope so.

Other than that my relationship with my girlfriend is awesome, I still speak with a man from Australia. Nothing sexual goes on between us any-more, he’s been a friend, a Dom, and back to a friend. I appreciate him in many ways.

That’s me in the here and now, can you keep up?

And breathe, just breathe. Cause you can’t jump the track, life keeps coming our way, it’s our job to handle it one moment at a time.