Pickles for my Cookie

I don’t know how to do this. I want to stop the bleeding before it gets worse. The only way I know how to do that is to keep to the no contact setup. To not look. To keep myself busy, and do everything but think of you.  When I catch myself questioning my decision, or feeling sad, I read a list of all the shitty things you’ve said, and done to me. I listen to the two voicemails I have from you. Unfortunately both are shitty. But it’s an excellent reminder of how vile you can be.  It sucks to know the only things I have that are kind/romantic/sweet or full of praise are the cards, letters, and flower notes. It would have been nice to have a kind and sweet message to listen to.  Sometimes I wish I wasn’t living a principled life. I’d post your shitty voicemail online so everyone could hear how fucking rude you are.  I’ve noticed that when I forget about you, I stop picking at my nails. My cuticles look like shit, especially right after I read your messages.  I hav...

It’s almost been a month since I took my collar off. Every day I go to reach for it. Moments of comfort, and moments of sadness, happiness. These are times to reflect, I would lean on our dynamic to keep me safe, or to guide me in the right direction. To say that I feel betrayed is an understatement. To know that my submission, my love, and my dynamic was meaningless, hurts.  Today I’m in Colorado. I am home. I see what the state has to offer, and I see this mountain that I’m sitting on. I see all the tiny crevices, of all of these boulders. There’s life. It’s emerging. Life that is thriving on the edge of a boulder, hanging over a valley.  It gives me hope. I can thrive. So when I think of moments when I get home, and I want to text you, instead I can think of these boulders, and I can think of the grass, and the bushes, and the trees, and the weeds, that are growing, and they’re thriving. And they look like they are barely holding on, but the roots are deep. Grounded. Attach...

I am learning the difference between help and interference. Today I will examine the way I offer support. 

Today was a great day. Especially considering the week we’ve had.  Two therapy sessions. Joint. Our first of a few. I feel like I have whiplash.  Monday fight Tuesday therapy - good. Hard but good Wednesday - an entire day of texting, knowing full well that texting does no good. Threaten to break up, uncollar, and then apologize.  Thursday - therapy, we had a chance to reconnect and it was great to have service night. And amazing sex.  Friday - hard but talking and conversations were fine. Some laughs and conversations. Saturday - today Amazing wake up sex. A day of fellowship. Bonding with the kids. And a wonderful evening. We get home, we have laughs and drinks. The kids are asleep and we start watching a new show. Some how you get on the topic of cumming on my face. This of course goes to who has done it. And when. And why. The questions aren’t so bad. But your arrogance and lack of empathy for my recollection of an event leaves me stumped.  To be gas lit, th...

From the archives  Every morning I send a gratitude text. Even when I'm struggling to be grateful. Even when I'm struggling to realize, that the hurt will make me stronger in the end.  Today I'm grateful for your hatred, mean comments, and knives that cut deep.  Here's the deal. You act like I don't know I'm overweight. I do. I'm well aware, and I know that your thoughts and opinions of me are none of my business. But, that doesn't mean that it hurts any less.  It's not like being overweight is fun. I know what being a buck10 is like. I know what it is like being where I am at now. No one is a worse critic than me.  "Well your face is pretty"... "Do you think anyone is going to want to do a scene with you looking like this?... "You'd be so much prettier if"... Now, none of these things are excuses. But when you are struggling to love yourself as is, having someone throw "french fries and shakes" or "dairy c...

I'd like to start and end my day the same. To be in your arms, on your chest, in your nook. The space between your chest and bicep. To feel your breath, and lips on my face. On my neck. Your words in my ear, and your heartbeat on my cheek. I'd like for your hands, fingertips, lips, and teeth to know every inch of my body. To be known and understood. To feel your heat. Bound, blindfolded and used relentlessly. Poked, prodded, fingered, fucked, bit, scratched, slapped, choked, kissed, spit on, made to cry, beg, plead. I don't want to make decisions. I want to please you, and in turn be pleased.Teach me how to be a good girl. Show me what I'm missing. Ruin me Daddy, so that I think everyone else is full of shit.  My body would melt into yours. To find pleasure in the pain delivered. To find pleasure in the delivered. To find love. To find lust. To be yours.  With Love, AJV