My submission

I talk a lot about Jason and all the bad things that happened in that relationship.  It didn’t start that way.  It was good.  So good.  I think that’s why I had such a hard time letting go of him.  He was the first person I was ever honest with about my interest in BDSM and my submissive desires.

Where did all this come from!?  A Dom I exchanged a few messages with asked me to describe my submissiveness.  I never know what to say when they ask that.. is it even possible?  It is different for everyone but I feel like my description won’t be uncommon.

My submission comes only when I feel a connection has been established and once its been tapped into, its intense.  I’m fiercely loyal by nature but my submission brings it out further.  All I want to do is please and it consumes me entirely.  It almost feels like standing on the edge of a cliff and trusting that the world won’t fall away under your feet.

Of course, the Earth did fall away.

Jason and I lived four hours away from each other, so we only got to spend time together a few weekends a month.  The sound of his voice on the phone was enough to pull me into subspace almost instantly.  He’d call me anytime, even at 3 in the morning after I had just suffered yet another night terror.  All I wanted was to make him happy and I did everything within my capabilities to do so.

It wasn’t all bad.

When I first realized there was a problem, I felt like I failed as a girlfriend and a submissive.  I know now that I did not, but it really broke me.  Part of me is still very broken but that is temporary.

I wanted to write this because I realized I talk about my experiences but never my submission itself.  It is so difficult to put into words.





“She’s my wife…”

I wasn’t in love with him.  I wasn’t attracted to him.  I had a shattered heart and I was desperate for attention.  He was into kink, but not D/s.  That’s okay.  I just wanted to fuck.

She kept calling and calling.  I didn’t understand why he didn’t just put that phone on silent.

He didn’t tell me he was married.  He “forgot to mention it” as if it was some tiny, insignificant detail.  He knew how I felt about it and “forgot” to tell me until it was too late.

No matter how long I stayed under the hot water of the shower, I couldn’t scrub the guilt away.

He still tries to contact me sometimes.  He calls me beautiful and tells me he misses me.  Of course he does, she probably figured it out.



When I was hanging out with a Dom a few months ago – I was never truly present.  I wanted to submit.  I really, really did.  But, it wasn’t to him I wanted to submit.  He spanked really well (and that’s about it) but I was never really submissive, just going through the motions.

I met up with him because I was frustrated and also because I felt pressure from people in my life (mother, friends… etc) to give someone, anyone, a chance.  Granted, they had no idea about the Dom part.  Mostly, I was frustrated.  There were better options so far out of my reach and I had had enough.  I felt like I was wasting my time.

I don’t want ‘just’ a Dom, I want something real… a real connection.  I can’t be submissive without becoming attached – and attachment, for me, rarely ends in anything other than complete devastation.  I don’t want that to happen again…

I’m not sure where I’m trying to go with the post, but I felt the need to type something out.  I am feeling that frustration again – that I’m wasting my time, that maybe the things I want aren’t attainable.  I just… don’t know.


Another one bites the dust

It is very possible that the person this post is about will see it.  Part of me feels bad because I am about to be so brutally honest – but, this is MY blog and this was my experience.  From now on, I’ll have to warn anyone who ever speaks to me: I blog in the same way that Taylor Swift writes songs.

I have this horrible habit: I trust people who do not deserve it and am wary of those that do.  It has always been this way.

We met on a vanilla dating site, believe it or not, but he recognized me from my profile on Collarspace.  Yes, I have one of those.  Apparently we had messaged back and forth.  That should have been red flag number one.

I did enjoy talking to him.  We had a lot in common – vanilla and kinky.  He called himself a Master though and initially said he was looking for a slave.  I am NOT and will NEVER be a slave.  He assured me this was okay.  Although, I am not sure he truly understood the difference.

Much like myself, he was looking for a real relationship within the D/s dynamic.  I don’t know why I trusted him.  We hung out a few times before anything happened – it went alright, but was not amazing.  I was NOT attracted to him but I kept trying to convince myself his personality would make up for it.

The first time we “played” was just a spanking.  No issues there.  Spanking is and always has been my main fetish.  It wasn’t overly hard – just his hand and a belt.  Nothing here was throwing up a red flag, it actually helped calm my anxiety.

The next time was more, spanking and an orgasm.

The next time, he wanted a blow job.  I won’t lie – I enjoy doing that, always have.  But, this time I didn’t enjoy it.  It tasted strange, it smelled worse.  Not diseased or anything, just dirty.  I realize that is so much TMI.  Sorry.  How does one even bring that up?  I had to hold my breath to avoid gagging more than I already was.

I recently read a post on FetLife about ‘sub frenzy’ and I am certain I had it.  He wasn’t what I wanted, or even close, but I was just so desperate to fulfill my submissive desires.  His cock made me gag, not in a good way, and I was willing to keep going because I thought I was being “good.”

He bought me a collar and told me he took it seriously. We actually went to a store and bought it (a long with a plug).  I prefer online shopping so I was miserable the entire time.  I just wanted to get out of the store.  The second he put that collar on my neck, my anxiety sky-rocketed.

One night he called to tell me he was having bad nightmares, wanted to focus more on work, didn’t think he could stay in control, excuse after excuse after excuse.  He kept repeating, “I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry” as if it made some sort of difference or legitimatized his excuses.

My suspicion is that he couldn’t handle taking it as slow as I needed it to go.  He wanted a slave and I made it clear I would never be one.

Strangely out of character, I was not upset.  I hung up the phone, took a deep breath, and that was it.  He had only been in my life a short time – no need to waste any more of it.


Emotional Abuse

Today, after a five month fight, I was able to get my ex-boyfriend off my apartment lease. Until now, he would have been legally able to enter the apartment at any time. I wanted to post this as a reminder that emotional abuse is a thing, a BIG thing.

I can’t tell you how many times during that relationship that I thought to myself: “Well, he only threatened to hit/hurt/etc… so it’s okay.”

But, it’s not okay. What happens when those threats become real?

I used to dread leaving work. I would have rather stayed at WORK than go home.

“…emotional abuse can seriously damage emotional health, causing clinical anxiety, depression, a skewed view of self-worth and an extreme lack of self-esteem.”


Emotional abuse is real and it IS damaging. Something as simple as seeing a vehicle similar to his is enough to trigger a panic attack. In that moment, all I can think about is the time he threatened to drive us off a bridge.

I never understood until it happened. I got lucky. So lucky, it could have been so much worse. Maybe someone in a similar situation can read this… and be lucky too.

I’ll drive us into the river

I have to cross state lines to get home.  I mean, home home… not my apartment.  Every single time I drive over that bridge, those words replay in my head:

“I’ll drive us into the fucking river, Stella.”

It took me a long time to understand that our relationship was not normal or okay.  He threatened to hit me but never did so I figured it was fine.

I haven’t given this guy a fake name yet.  I guess I’ll call him D (for dumb-ass).

This was a vanilla relationship.  I thought it would be safe.

Emotional Abuse IS Abuse

I always wish I knew that sooner:  Emotional abuse is abuse.

A selection of quotes from my now ex-boyfriend:

“Would you rather I hit you?”

You have like six fucking personalities.”

“I don’t care about your past, it’s not my problem.”

“Now I understand why men hit women.”

“You deserved to be raped, cheated on, fucked over…”

“This is all your fault.”

“You’re just trying to make my life miserable.”

He never once took responsibility for anything.  He got dehydrated at work?  My fault, I didn’t put his water bottle in the dishwasher.  He lost his job?  My fault, I was making life at home too stressful.  His truck broke down?  My fault, my fault, my fault…. somehow, always.

I never considered it to be abuse, until he threatened to drive his truck off a bridge… with both of us in it.