It’s Time to Give Up

Note: This was written last night when I was pretty distraught. This blog is for me to be able to be me. Not matter what that looks like. Besides, He already knows this shit before I even form the thought to write it. As He would say, “Nothing new there”. Thanks for reading…

I want to write to Him right now. I want to confess every feeling I have inside. How I was lying awake before and I could feel my skin crawling and my body shaking because the deprivation, being held away from Him it’s making me crazy. I grabbed my crotch imagining that it could be the way He would grab me. I ripped my own panties to the side and slid my finger inside so hard and I was so soft and wet just in the few seconds I had opened that flood gate inside myself.

I stopped and pushed my hand hard into my forehead till my neck was shaking. I could smell my cunt. I haven’t touched it in days. I haven’t felt turned on in days. I hate myself right now. I’m up at 2 a.m. writing here and all I can think of is the countless times at one, two, three, even, four in the morning texting with Him with my cunt absolutely dripping like I had never felt in my entire life. Oh god, I miss it. I miss Him. I’m terrified I’ll never feel that again.

I’m so afraid there’s nothing there any more but this mundane conversation. This fucking polite emptiness that I tell myself is alright…as long as He’s still speaking to me. But it’s not okay. He shares very little true depth with me…only details that my memory has trouble holding on to. He no longer even hints that they’ll be any symbolic jewelry–a collar or slave bracelet; He doesn’t check in anymore (a way He has of connecting with me);He’s not telling me what to do anymore. He never was like a lot of other Dom’s that give tasks. I’m not sure what He’s done with others, but He’s never really been like that with me. It confused me in the beginning. I read things and not a thing they described He did. Many things just can’t be done long distance.

Not just physical things, but the code He lives by, the strictness He has still, even though He’s not as angry as He used to be. The spiritual sharing He did with me once; these were things I couldn’t look up. I couldn’t ask anyone. Everything was experience and learning by pain and the most excruciating pleasure a body can feel…at least without meeting face to face. And now that my body is a reflection of nearly everything Him (except for the tattoo, I still haven’t gone…not sure why), I find myself further away from Him than ever.

All the feelings came from opening up sexually. It was an explosion on so many levels. Is it just part of growing just like any other relationship? Or is it something so much worse and I just can’t bear to write it or even let myself think it? I’m lost.

The last encounter I had in the van was a discovery in some ways, but here’s the thing…He wasn’t there. I never told Him anything about it, what lead up to it, what I was feeling, nothing was shared except for the video. The time before that I sucked the cock of a local black lover. The god damn skype signal shut down. I wanted to fucking die.

I do so much alone. I can’t help but be envious of his past subs. THEY HAD HIM. ALL OF HIM. They felt Him and touched Him. They felt Him touch them. They kissed His mouth. They fucking saw Him! Breathing and moving in front of them! They tasted His cock. Felt His cock impale them. For God’s sake…they got to see it! I’ve never seen His cock. Never. Just the head.

They felt His strap, His whip, His chains and shackles. His fucking bed!! They got to experience Him putting encounters together for them. Stories that are inside me. They live in me and taunt me with ‘what if’s’ and ‘if only’s’. I wonder sometimes why I’m able to cry in an instant. It’s all of this and that’s only the sexual feelings. The emotional ones are too hard to speak.

I’m trapped by a life I’ve created here and a distance that laughs in my face everyday. And to make things worse…there’s less of the little I had of Him. To hear Him say that this woman He lived with “had a great life as a sub here”. That may be one of the most painful things He’s ever said to me. It’s the embodiment of everything I want to be and feel and live, but I’m here, He’s there…and there’s never ever even been the invitation. And that says everything I’m afraid of. That holds all the weight of being told I’m not a sub, certainly not His and that I’ll never be.

There, I’ve said it. I know I’ve put out some pretty sad posts lately. I just can’t keep denying I don’t feel them, smiling and pretending that one day, one thing I do, one deed I perform, one sacrifice I make, one perfect moment or perfect me will change everything. There have been lots of perfects with Him already. Moments He has said things that stopped my beating heart. But they are just words “like slippery vipers”. It’s time to face that what I want not only doesn’t matter: it’s not happening. Ever.

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