Sir came and spent another two weeks with me and we spent the time in a fulltime, live in D/s dynamic. It wasn't fantastic, the sex was nothing like I remembered it, we clashed a lot and he tried way too hard to get me to be pleasant in the morning. But that's just us finding our ground, I expect that it will be like that for some time. I didn't want to put a huge amount of pressure on the relationship by expecting it to be just right at the beginning, he's strong enough and patient enough that he can lead us in the right direction.
By the last day of his visit I was feeling pretty miserable. I had almost zero time to myself over the past two weeks, and my regular day to day life had been totally disrupted. On top of that a friend of mine had a pretty serious car accident, yet I could only spend a few hours one evening with them because neither Sir or myself felt it was fair that he had travelled over 10,000 miles to sit alone. We put it down to poor timing but I felt incredibly stressed and pressured not to mention unbelievably torn.
So I took him to the airport and watched him walk away, again. I browsed through the airport bookshop and then hopped on a city bus, did a little shopping and then headed home. I had the house to myself for two hours so I climbed into bed and dozed a little, relishing the warmth and softness, listening to the rain and loving the time to myself.
Once I felt restored I took a deep breath and then all of a sudden I felt like crying. He was gone again. I couldn't believe the loss I felt, still feel. Every minute that he is gone I feel worse. I find myself being short tempered and irrrational, and then of course I feel guilty that I am subjecting him to those negative emotions when this move to return to me permanently is a greater ordeal for him than I will ever know. God, I hate guilt, fucking catholics.
It's going to take him about a month to return. I text him and bug him to come online to spend time with me, but then when he gets there I want to lash out at him for leaving me again. Nothing feels the same without him here, nothing. He asked me to wear my cuffs throughout the day to comfort me, but instead they just irritate me, yet while he was here I was loathe to take them off, I loved them so much.
Sigh. Pout.
By the last day of his visit I was feeling pretty miserable. I had almost zero time to myself over the past two weeks, and my regular day to day life had been totally disrupted. On top of that a friend of mine had a pretty serious car accident, yet I could only spend a few hours one evening with them because neither Sir or myself felt it was fair that he had travelled over 10,000 miles to sit alone. We put it down to poor timing but I felt incredibly stressed and pressured not to mention unbelievably torn.
So I took him to the airport and watched him walk away, again. I browsed through the airport bookshop and then hopped on a city bus, did a little shopping and then headed home. I had the house to myself for two hours so I climbed into bed and dozed a little, relishing the warmth and softness, listening to the rain and loving the time to myself.
Once I felt restored I took a deep breath and then all of a sudden I felt like crying. He was gone again. I couldn't believe the loss I felt, still feel. Every minute that he is gone I feel worse. I find myself being short tempered and irrrational, and then of course I feel guilty that I am subjecting him to those negative emotions when this move to return to me permanently is a greater ordeal for him than I will ever know. God, I hate guilt, fucking catholics.
It's going to take him about a month to return. I text him and bug him to come online to spend time with me, but then when he gets there I want to lash out at him for leaving me again. Nothing feels the same without him here, nothing. He asked me to wear my cuffs throughout the day to comfort me, but instead they just irritate me, yet while he was here I was loathe to take them off, I loved them so much.
Sigh. Pout.
0 comments:
Post a Comment