Update 2



Renard has it. He’s not improving. Last week, I almost ended everything with him.

1) It began innocently enough. I found out Renard has been watching hypnosis videos, some of which are bdsm-related. I’m a boss at hypnosis. Something Renard doesn’t really know, since he’d never shown interest in it and he’s not typically responsive to mind-fuckery. It sucked that he was exploring hypnosis without me, but there was no way I was going to tell him to stop since we so rarely see each other and it’s innocent enough. They’re videos, not an actual person sitting with him, steering his mind. Forgivable. Hesitantly acceptable.

2) Then I found out that Renard has been hanging out with a D/s couple I don’t know. He wrestled with the dominant (just rough-housing in his mind) and thought nothing of the power play. Personally, I don’t care if it’s a ‘scene’ or not, wrestling is inherently a display of dominance and submission. Whether he realizes it or not, I haven’t let anyone I don’t know rough-house with him when we’re at a dungeon.

The only reason I found out about any of this is because one of the other dominant’s dogs bit him, having disliked the scuffle. Renard sent me a picture of the wound. I was furious. I remained calm with him for two reasons. 1) He didn’t know how I felt about wrestling. 2) He honestly didn’t see it as anything but innocent tomfoolery. This, for whatever reason, makes it more forgivable.

Still, I couldn’t help but wonder what this other dominant must think of me. Was it innocent tomfoolery to him as well? Or does he see how little control I have of Renard?

3) This was followed by something else that rather peeved me. Renard has been trying to get a job closer to me for the better part of this year. He had a job interview down the street for me on my day off and didn’t think to tell me. I found out almost accidentally. And then I found out that rather than come up that day, he came up that night and spent it not only sleeping over at Papa’s and Tigresse’s, but getting laid, too. Now, I already knew he’d been having sex with Papa. I have no problem with that. I’m glad he’s getting his sexual needs met. But he could have stayed with me. He could have stayed with me, his Dominant, but didn’t. I hadn’t even thought that he’d come up the night before, otherwise I would have invited him to stay with me. It was upsetting.

4) And finally, a rule was broken. It’s one of the only rules. Rule 1) Don’t play with anyone without my permission. Rule 2) Don’t you fucking dare get your hair cut without me. Don’t. You. Dare. I have a thing about hair. Renard has a thing for being a simple guy, with simple tastes. He’s the kind of guy who would get a stupid, horrid hair cut. So I get to dictate what he does with it. If we were in each other’s lives more, I’d give him a damn make-over. Anyway. Renard got his hair cut off. All of it. For the job interview. What the fucking fuck.

And then it hit me. Am I really even his dominant anymore? It’s been months since I’ve seen him. And when I have been around him, it’s always so… dead. His interest in scening is gone. I have absolutely no say in his life. He’s completely lost touch with doing any of the long distance D/s things we were doing. Simple shit really, just keeping in touch and letting me know what he’s up to.

Honestly… I’m not his Dominant, at this point. It’s an empty title that I still have. I feel like I’m his dominant in name only. I don’t meet any of his needs and he doesn’t meet any of mine.

Part of it is my fault. I’m the dominant. I’m supposed to guide things. I’m supposed to keep things from spinning out of control.

Part of it his fault. He hasn’t put any effort into things since our big trip months ago.

So. I’m going to fix it. I’m going to fix this. Either I’m the dominant in this relationship, or things are over. I’m willing to put in one last effort. Yes, last week I was going to call it quits. But we’re so close to him moving nearer. And fuck, if we have to, I will move him in with me. I can’t go on with this broken relationship anymore. I can’t go on another week knowing that I’m failing as his Dominant.

He’s coming over this weekend. I have a plan. I’m going to clean his chakras, balance out his energy, see if that’s the problem with his apathy. Then we’re going to go over our rules again, and I’m going to have a plan for how we’re going to stay in touch and how often and what he has to inform me of. I’m going to give him my expectations. He’s going to tell me if there’s anything I haven’t covered.

And then we’re going to our dungeon and I’m going to remind him just why he calls me Master. It’s been too long since I properly dominated him. Or anyone, sadly. That’s going to change.

This better work.

Your Collar


The woven links slither across your skin as I take my time slipping the collar around your neck. I have made this just for you. I have been critical in the judgement of color(s) to use. I have cut each ring. I have chosen only the best. I have spent hours meticulously linking the rings together. Imperfection is unacceptable. Our dedication to each other will be stronger than the metal now around your neck. This is not a play collar. This is permanent. This is a lifetime accomplishment for the both of us.

I close the clasp and you are Mine.


My Renard and I are nowhere near a formal Collaring. Yes, he wears a collar in public to show that he is mine and as a personal sign that he is owned. But although I own him, I do not Own him. His will has not been put aside for mine. I don’t know if we will ever get to that stage.

For myself, to formally Collar someone is to marry them. It’s a til-death-do-we-part thing. The person I Collar will be my significant other in every way. They will be my submissive and my romantic partner. Renard and I are not romantic with each other in the slightest. The attraction isn’t there. Our relationship is purely D/s.

To me, the ultimate romance is one in which my significant other and I have built a loving enough and trusting relationship that the S.O. wants to give up their will for mine. I have felt this way since my adolescence (although at the time I wouldn’t have been able to put it to words). I strive to be a person who deserves such an honor.


The day with Renard went well. He was peppy enough. I could tell he was distracted with his own inner turmoil, but I know my touch and my presence soothed him.

I wound up spending two days with Papa and Tigresse. At one point, Tigresse and I talked about Renard and his state of mind. We talked about our methods of helping him. Her plan of action has been to distract him. Part of their dynamic as friends is that they rough-house, watch cartoons, and get into general tomfoolery. I am not exactly that kind of person. I can be silly to a certain extent, but not like Tigresse. I’m very glad Renard has Tigresse in his life, so he can have someone who can be playful in ways that I am not.

This brings me to the main thing I wanted to talk about in this post. My role. Not just with Renard, but as a facet of who I am.

Tigresse brought up something about her thought process, which greatly differed from my own. She said that with her D/s relationship (a much looser and lenient one than I have with Renard), she’s friends first and her role second. With Renard, I’m his Dominant. As his Dominant, it is my responsibility to care for his well-being, including by being compassionate and patient. Am I his friend? I’m good to him and I take care of him to the best of my ability. I guess that makes me his friend. But I don’t think of him as my friend. I think of him as my submissive. Is that sad? Is that bad? Does it make our relationship suffer? I don’t think so. I have his needs and his best interests at heart. I’m a shoulder for him to lean on. I listen to his worries and I try to support him emotionally. Yes I’m friendly with him. We laugh and joke and hang-out. We have casual days. But I am always conscious of my role and that my actions are ways of expressing my role. It’s not just a role for me. It is me.  I haven’t asked, but I think that to him, I’m his dominant and his friend. I am two roles. I am not one complex role. That’s ok with me. It’s just semantics, right?

It’s difficult to hold back, and to be more passive while he gets through this. I know he wouldn’t respond well if I tried to comfort him my way. My way would be to get him to invest himself in his submission to me. To spend more time with me and have set chores and a set daily schedule of activities and whatnot. My way of distracting him from his troubles would be to get him to focus on our relationship. This isn’t because I want to control his life. Not at all. I would do things that way because I find comfort in filling my role. I know there are submissives that find a world of comfort in serving their Dominant. To a certain extent, I know Renard does. But his days are already taken up with chores and a schedule of activities that are just burdensome responsibilities to others. He wouldn’t find the structure comforting right now. He’d just see it as yet more chores and crap he has to do for someone. I hate that. I wish that doing things for me was an exception, but it’s not. We discussed this and he politely and respectfully told me this. Right now, what’s comforting to him is just being in my presence. Lying in my lap and having his head pet is enough role fulfillment to make him content. There’s no pressure, there’s no assignments, there’s just him being mine.

Ups and Downs

fox eyes

So yesterday I made it a mission to try to bring Renard out of his shell again. To try to provoke some of his usual playfulness and teasing/sarcastic attitude out. I crashed and burned. He was in the dumps and in no mood to banter. It sucked, but I wasn’t hurt by his lack of spunk. I knew it was just a bad day for him and kept on trying to bring him out of his slump. I had a lot of fun, even though I wasn’t successful. I took comfort in knowing that the grouch replying to my texts (did I mention I worked a sixteen-hour shift yesterday?) wasn’t really him.

I also made it a mission to be more firm about arranging a date for us to hang out. He’s everyone’s handyman and so his schedule gets pretty busy with his promises to others. It’s actually kind of frustrating at times. I’m his dominant. I should be a priority, not all these other people requesting menial things.

When we were going over his availability, he mentioned that Monday he would be helping a mutual friend of ours move a tv. (To continue with the french naming system I started, we’ll call him Papa). Papa is the dominant of another mutual friend of ours, Tigresse (more french, lol). Renard is very good friends with Papa and Tigresse. Renard and Tigresse are both bratty subs (though Renard knows better than to be too bratty with me). I tend to be kind of a recluse, so although I too am close with them, I’m not close in the same way that Renard is with them. Renard hangs out with them regularly. I typically only see them at dungeons.

Anyway. Papa has been in the BDSM Lifestyle a long, long time. He’s a good dominant. But he’s not Renard’s dominant; so when Renard told me that he was helping Papa move a tv and that we could hang out when they were done, I got mad. It’s one thing if it’s his parents or grandparents that he’s helping out, since they’re his family and he lives close to an hour away. It’s another thing to tell me that I’d have to wait on him to have time for me while he helped another dominant.

I like to digest my emotional responses to things. I was mad because 1) I’m tired of not seeming like the priority I should be. 2) He was letting another dominant (mutual friend or no) take priority. This rankles me because people experienced in the Lifestyle are very keen about dominance and submission in all of its subtleties. Most vanillas are not. 3) He was telling me that I’d have to wait on him. Wut.

Aware of the reasons behind my anger, I began phase two. Addressing the anger and the issues it represented in a beneficial, compassionate, dominant way. There were three issues I wanted to hit with one stone. So I thought on it. Here’s my logic: Papa is a good person. I like papa. I don’t actually mind that Renard is helping him, I just don’t want to be a lower priority. Also, I’ve been such a fucking recluse lately. I want to see my Renard, but… it would also actually be really nice to see Papa and Tigresse. The sad thing is, I haven’t been around fellow Lifestylers besides Renard in a few months.

So the solution? I’m tagging along with them while they move the tv and hanging out with them tomorrow. Wam. Bam. Thank you, Ma’am. All parties are happy. I let Renard know that I wanted to be a priority and spend the day with him; I made sure it was ok with Papa that I tagged along; I was dominant by taking the reins and making things happen. If Papa had not wanted my company, then Renard would have had to cancel with him. Luckily, that wasn’t the case and there was no drama. Huzzah!

Also, today was an incredible improvement! Like night and day. I’m really glad, too. He’s being really responsive to my texts (I’m working a twelve-hour shift today, guhhh). He’s having fun with our banter. He teased me right back whenever I teased him. His playful sarcastic nature is definitely back. We’ve been discussing possible scenes. It’s fucking nice. It’s back to how our dynamic usually is. It’s a good sign.

Sexual Frustrations

When I was going through puberty, my sexual frustrations scared me. Not only was my libido extremely intense, so were my sadistic cravings. The two needs went hand-in-hand. Of all my friends, it seemed like I had the highest sex drive. Of all my friends, it seemed I was the only one aroused by the idea torturing someone. I was rather cruel to a couple of boyfriends, because I would build up their sexual frustration. I know now that the term is tease and denial, but I didn’t then. I have always loved arousing my partners and then not allowing them release.

(Fun fact: All of my high school friends told me I’d be a dominatrix when I grew up.)

Pubescent me got off on the idea of controlling my partner’s sexuality. Pubescent me got off on the idea of restraining my partner and having them as a fuck toy. Pubescent me got off on the idea of all the nuances of being someone’s Master, although I didn’t know it at the time. I thought I was weird. I thought I was perverted in a bad way. I thought if I showed my true sexuality and dominance, I would scare people away. Now add in all the sexual abuse I endured growing up. I wound up being very skittish about my sexuality. I wound up doing my very best to bury my sadism. I tried to be normal. Oh, what a mistake that always is. But it was my mistake to make, and I’m stronger and more appreciative of my Renard and my lifestyle because of it.

I didn’t lose my virginity until I was 19. The boyfriend I lost it to had little sex drive. I practically had to convince him to do the deed with me. I was so, so careful. I wanted so much more than he gave. He was so indifferent that my first voluntary sexual experiences left me even more worried about how much of a deviant I was. I felt even worse about my sex drive and sadism.

My second sexual partner, though… He loved being marked. He loved being bitten. He loved bruises and scratches and roughness. He loved that I wanted my hair pulled. He loved when I spanked him. It was incredibly liberating to have a partner that wanted to take almost everything that I wanted to give. I didn’t feel like a freak when I was with him. I didn’t feel like a sick fuck. The relationship didn’t last long, but it was a turning point for me on the road to accepting myself.

I’ve definitely come a long, long way since puberty (don’t most people? Heh.). I acknowledge and accept that I am a pervert and a sick fuck to some people. I temper my perversions and my sadism with control, knowledge, and compassion. That has to be enough. Sometimes it’s a tight rope to walk, but I love myself for all my kinks. I trust myself to be responsible and knowledgeable, and that makes all the difference.

Pubescent me was lost. I am no longer lost.

Informative anecdote:
My Renard is a virgin. His first partnered sexual experience was with me. Renard and I are not normally sexual with each other. He was misbehaving. Renard is a brat. Like most submissives, he likes to test his Dominant. I personally think that it’s a healthy thing to do. I think pushing a dominant’s buttons is a good way to test just how good a dominant they are. To a certain extent. There is a fine line between being a playful, bratty, limit-testing submissive, and being disrespectful. Very few things get under my skin. Disrespect is one of them. Suffice to say that Renard was not heeding me when I repeatedly addressed the issue. I was kind. We were both new to our roles, and there’s always a learning curve. I understood that. However, after multiple conversations and repeated infractions, enough was enough. After nearly two months of trying to verbally rectify things, it became apparent that my words were not enough. And so, after another discussion, I told him that he would be punished.

Punishment is a delicate thing to me. Even though I am certain of my role, my control, and proper procedures, I never ever want a punishment to come off as abuse. I think part of this sentiment is growing up in vanilla culture. Inflicting pain and suffering is seen as abuse to vanillas. My mother was very verbally abusive to me when I tried to get into the Scene after I graduated high school, which has definitely added to my wariness of punishments. However, part of being a dominant is enforcing your dominance. I loathe doing punishments, but sometimes they are crucial in establishing respect and ensuring that your roles are maintained. My Renard was not respecting me. He wasn’t taking my dominance seriously. He wasn’t understanding how much I was holding back, how careful I was being with him. He didn’t understand the extent of my sadism.

My Renard likes chastity devices. The day of his punishment, I gave him the first blow job of his life. It lasted half an hour. He wasn’t allowed to cum during it. He wasn’t allowed to cum the day after. No, he wasn’t allowed to cum after his first blow job until a week afterwards. And even then I let him know in no uncertain terms during that week, that I could extend the week-long punishment if he was bratty to me in any way during that week. The results were marvelous. He came so hard that he passed out when I finally let him have his release. He was much more respectful after that. Yes, there were other punishments along the way, but this one and one other showed the most progress.

I fucking loved controlling his release. I loved knowing he was in sexual agony. I loved how much it agonized him to not know whether or not I would stick to a week or not.

Wants and Needs

I have lived in Washington State for two years. I moved here after getting a B.S. that has so far gotten me no where. I have a job that pays me rather well… to do something I don’t care too much about. At least, I don’t care about it as much as what I got my degree in.

After two years of struggle, I am now finally earning enough to be able to afford my own apartment. I signed the contract for it today. I am very glad that I can finally be completely independent. Part of me will miss having roommates, but that just provides more of an incentive for me to have company over and not be the recluse I tend to be.

And yet, with all this progress, I am finding myself in a melancholy mood. Not because I’ll be a spinster (at 26!) living alone with my cat. Nor because I have yet to do anything worthwhile with my degree.

I find myself in the doldrums because I have needs that are not being met. I have desires yet unfulfilled. What needs and desires? Well, I’m a domme, and the past year has been a struggle with my submissive.

I’ve had my submissive for two years. Let’s just call him Renard. The first year was good. We both had ample time and energy for each other.

Then I got my first job at a company that worked all its employees like slaves. The stress was unbelievable and unbearable. By a year and a half into our relationship, I was a shell of myself. He was lucky if I texted him once a month. I was an awful, awful dominant. I failed him miserably, because I was miserable. I didn’t want him to see how badly I was doing, so I distanced myself from him.

I am eternally grateful that he was patient with me and did not abandon me as his dominant.

And now it’s my turn to be patient. (Not a strong-suit of mine.) Sure, I’m doing much better. I have a different job that lets me be me and appreciates my work. As aforementioned, I’m also making decent money. My stress levels are very low. So of course, now that I have gained my inner stability again, all the wants and needs I’ve been burying are starting to dig themselves out of their graves like people buried alive poorly.

I have been trying to rebuild my relationship with my submissive for months, but to no avail. He has little time for me. He has little energy for me. He doesn’t have money. I don’t want to pressure him or add to his stress, but I’m also trying to be mindful of the fact that I’m his dominant, and damn it, that means that sometimes, he needs to suck things up and do what I want. Especially if what I want is something as beneficial as spending time together.

I want him to obey me. I want to be his priority. I want him to be himself again. There is, of course, a lot that I’m leaving out.

I just have to take a deep breath in, and be patient. I have my own place now. He’s moving closer. He’ll be away from most of the things causing him stress. We’ll be able to work on things.

It’s been a hell of a year (and by that I mean the past twelve months, not 2013), but I am his Master, and I am going to make things work.