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The online diary of an ethical pervert.

Monday, 23 February 2009

The way things are

Things have started to reach an even keel, or something approaching it. At least I feel as if rather than reaching out into the unknown, I'm now pursuing definite areas of interest. The Photographer and I have a firm relationship, within it we are fM although the odd burst of Fm does occur if my switch is flipped. We also have, I'm happy to say, a strong bond outside of play which as helped develop our powerplay into something more than the odd visit to a hotel now and then. Not that that wasn't a welcome distraction from the day to day, of course, but there is a lot to be said for strength of connection, of attachment. Well, I'll say it - of commitment. Because that is what the decision to be someone's slave is, surely? I am committed to him. It's not something that can be turned on or off as and when or a role to be adopted for a few hours that then I can then shrug off as easily as taking off my coat. I am his, I do not only play at being his. There is also an onus on him, on his decision to have me as his slave, the responsibility to me which that brings.

Which brings with it a series of quirks and conditions. Not least the fact that we are both seeing other people, and so our lives are curiously balanced, with time spent away and the needs of each relationship being considered. Which we work through as we go on, communication between ourselves and our partners, little touches and messages to check that everything is still OK, that worries are being dealt with as and when they arise and not left to fester. There is a certain amount of mental juggling that goes on, especially where D/s is concerned, given that I am submissive in both of my main relationships yet they are both happening in specific and different spaces.

We are not 24/7 in the sense that I do not look to him to make every single choice about my life, and neither of us are especially interested in that aspect but there is a certain amount of creep as time goes on. At first, there was a definite boundary. When we were alone together, and especially when we were playing I would wait for him to make the first move, defer to him, look to please him. When we were in public, I wouldn't do this. Now there is a grey area. A way of leaning into him whilst on the tube, him holding me tight, leaving little crescent moons from his nails on the back of my hand. I am conscious of being his more and more, and when I bring it to mind, it makes me smile. It is a powerful thing, being owned: comforting and safe, reassuring and also extremely erotic.

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