Patience, Young Grasshopper... or hang on for the ride.
by Victor Erus
Please bear with me as I wander about the trials I've had in the last 3 years of my life as keeper of a "broken toy". The introduction to this site refers [paraphrasing] to an existing relationship, and the wish to keep it and protect it. My story is a bit different in that I realized upon first meeting my now-collared submissive that there were serious challenges ahead. I took her for both of us.
Why I think I can write this...
I met my babygirl online almost three years ago in a BDSM Palace, and within minutes she had opened up to me in ways she says that she never had with anyone else. Her words were more telling than she perhaps thought. She was smart and outgoing, yet submissive. Although she never said it, I knew she was in a relationship (vanilla) because she felt she "had" to be. Even being vanilla, she was a doormat and emotionally beaten down. Call it Karma, Kismet, or wishing upon a star; I heard her asking for help.
I made it clear from the very beginning I had no interest in an online relationship. Ironically, my online life was a passing fancy, as I am a very physical person and I insist that my relationships be the same way. The problem was that she lived in California and I live in Georgia.
Some people might call it an ultimatum; I recognized it as a rescue mission. I decided that I would bring her to me and prove a dominant didn't have to be a domineering asshole. Her first visit would be a test for us both. After months of chat and talking on the phone, I bought her a plane ticket and I told her to come as who she was, not what she thought I'd want or expect. I insisted she set up a calling schedule with an online friend (I had given her my name, address and phone number) and told her to do any kind of Internet search she thought of that might identify me as a psycho. I wanted to make this visit feel like it was one of the safest things she had ever done. When I picked her up from the airport, I was uncharacteristically calm, but she seemed edgier than she had led me to believe she would be. I hoped that not doing anything to startle her would give her the feeling of safety I so wanted her to have.
Lesson number one: Don't bite the labia within hours of meeting and don't believe everything they tell you.
Believe it or not, the biting part is not where I lost control. I wanted to take everything very slow - my goal was to create an aura of safety -- but she clearly wanted physical intimacy and I was not about to argue. She knew from months of conversation that I am not a gentle lover, and had told me on several occasions that she enjoyed pain. Perfect harmony, right?
Wrong! While she was lying submissively naked on the bed, I dove right in. After several minutes of gentleness I "nibbled" (I swear it was a nibble!) forgetting I didn't know how sensitive she might be. She didn't flinch or say a word, but I was keenly aware something had changed. I know full well that a dominant must be aware of his surroundings regardless of where his head is. (No pun intended.) I realized that she was quietly crying, but she still would have allowed me to continue had I not stopped on my own. Ironically, in just a few hours, I was already protecting her from herself.
The next few hours were a blur. As she put it, she had a complete meltdown. We understand now that it really wasn't the bite itself, it was the realization that she was way out of control. She was thousands of miles from her home and children, and no matter how much we had talked, I was still a stranger. I somehow had to create an aura of safety for her, so I offered to take her to a hotel so she would not have to stay with me; I even offered to take her back to the airport and put her on the next plane home. I wanted to make sure she knew she owed me nothing and that her comfort was most important. First and foremost, I made it clear that I had no right to keep her. No matter what she might have thought that a submissive was "supposed" to be, my submissive will always be free.
I calmed her, took her to a hotel and promised her the offer still stood; I would take her to the airport in the morning if that is what she wanted. She called an hour later apologizing for her behavior, and I assured her it wasn't necessary. As much of a debacle as the evening was, I think that it set the tone for the relationship.
The next morning I picked her up and took her for coffee. She felt confident that her decision to stay was because it was what she wanted, but I realized it was going to be my responsibility to set the parameters of her visit. We shared a lot and took things slow, and in the end I think it progressed to where we were both pleased. Proudly getting back on the plane with welts on her ass, she wouldn't forget me too soon.
Lesson number two: Don't let lesson number one be perceived as indifference.
Although we both thoroughly enjoyed our first time together, I had no idea where the relationship was going. I'm not a real syrupy-sweet romantic anyway; I knew we had clicked in real life just as we had online, but the rest was up to her. Returning home, she was upset thinking I didn't care if I ever saw her again because I had so freely let her go. She had mistakenly thought I would have collared her before she left, even knowing I was only interested in a real-time relationship. In actuality. she didn't want the freedom to leave. She wanted me to demand she return ... but by insisting on a real-time physical relationship, I already had. With the freedom to leave comes the freedom to shackle yourself when handed a Master's chains.
Lesson number three: Be careful what you strive for.
The one thing that babygirl has never had is a life of her own. I began to talk to her about moving to Georgia where I could help her get settled and start a new life, just her and her boys. I wanted her in my life, but I felt it was more important that she first learn how to stand on her own (with my guidance of course.) I was not simply going to be the next port in her stormy life. I wanted to make sure that if our relationship was not what she needed, she could leave knowing she was able to take care of herself and didn't have to rely on anyone -- but first she had to get out of the abusive relationship she was in. I told her that she and the boys could stay with me while she looked for work. I would teach her how to manage money and shop for an apartment; I would do all I could to keep her from falling. I convinced her that it was a good plan, and verbally she agreed with it. What I didn't realize was her fear would keep her from acting on it.
As time passed, it was always, "Let's get by the holidays. Well, the boys are still in school"; one excuse after the other. Admittedly, I began to lose my patience. If she wasn't going to make a move, I was not going to continue the relationship. She needed to make a decision. Not that I wanted to, but I was prepared to end the relationship if necessary. Having stayed in an unhappy marriage for over twenty years, I had promised myself I would have a partner I desired and that I would not settle again. I had finally conquered my own low self-esteem, and I would not abandon all the hard work I had done. I was saddened; but I could have moved on, as I had learned what she still needed to learn: Everyone, regardless of their past, deserves a loving, caring and happy relationship.
It was six months since her first visit when she finally made the decision to come. Early on, I had made a commitment to her that I would guide her, protect her and her boys, and bring discipline and stability to their lives. I would not renege on that promise, and I would prove I was a man of my word. The next thing you know I found myself in a very small house with my babygirl, two boys (ten and twelve), and two cats.
Within a couple of months, the relationship had been going so well that we decided they would stay with me instead of pushing out on their own. By no means do I regret that decision, although I still think it would have been an important exercise in her life. It was really a selfish decision on my part; I had never been so in love before.
Lesson number four: The danger of giving her what she needs.
We made it through our first summer together harmoniously, filled with blissful sex. We are very compatible, and to this day spend most nights talking for hours before bed. As fall neared, I continued to learn about her past, and the more I learned, the more my fear began to grow. I was afraid that her submissive nature was born of her sordid past, and her submission to me was out of fear of abandonment. Although I was madly in love with this woman, I had to make sure she was in the relationship for me, and not out of habit. In my opinion, any other way would be less than consensual.
Although I often set expectations, I found that guiding my babygirl through my writing was most effective. I enjoy putting my thoughts to paper, and present them in a philosophical way. I'm not the type to foist my opinions on people, not even my submissive. I'm convinced that when someone feels that they made their own decision to do something, they are more likely to succeed ... and so one day I sat down to tell her how I felt professional therapy could help in ways I couldn't. She told me that in her past relationships therapy and medication was discredited as unnecessary, and I told her that I believed that was an element of control her partners had over her - as long as she was mentally unhealthy, they could use and abuse her as they saw fit. I even explained that by telling her to go I was at a risk of losing her, but because of my love for her it was a chance I was willing to take.
It didn't take long before she was telling me how well therapy was going; she was learning a lot about herself and how her past had been driving her life. She was showing signs of personal strength, although she also showed signs of drifting away from me. As you might guess, one day out of the clear blue she told me she couldn't be a submissive anymore. My nightmare had come true. It was a huge struggle for me to continue encouraging her when the relationship I had worked so hard for was deteriorating, but once again, I would prove my integrity. I was going to be different than anyone she had ever met before. I would not manipulate her in an effort to keep her. However, I should have remembered lesson number two.
Although she was showing definite signs of emotional strength, I felt she was a little out of control. When she began to tell me they (her and her therapist) believed she owed the people she left in California an apology, I was flabbergasted. I kept reminding myself that my personal stake in the relationship could cloud my judgment. Some things she was telling me that her therapist said went against everything I had ever heard in my twenty-plus years of therapy. I'm not a psychiatrist or psychologist, but in my opinion he was way off base. In addition, I had learned a lot about her and knew she was capable of manipulating her therapy. Please excuse my frankness, but I couldn't believe that the moron wasn't seeing it. Having a strong conviction in my beliefs, I made it clear I disagreed with her therapist.
Let me take a minute to explain the environment she had been in, and who she was to apologize to for leaving. During that six-year relationship, the forty-year-old guy she was with never worked. She worked hard to keep food on the table while he stayed home and played video games with the boys - not exactly a stellar role model. In addition, his incredibly enmeshed family was riddled with alcoholism, drug addiction and physical abuse. She even told me that he wouldn't have sex with her because he could only think of his mother when he did. (Perhaps inappropriate, but I can imagine adding incest to that earlier list wouldn't be a stretch.) About the only thing I could agree with was that there were a few friends and family members who at least deserved to know how she and the boys were doing.
Lesson number five: You can be smarter than her therapist.
Spring was right around the corner. The next thing that happened was devastating: she told me that she was leaving because she had things "she had to do" back in California. None of what she said made sense any more. When I asked if she was coming back, she was surprised, even though very early in the relationship I had told her that she was free to leave at any time, that I would not follow after her, and I wouldn't need her to come back. Between the indifference I had showed and her literal interpretation of what I said, she thought she couldn't return. I made it clear that if she was going to tie up loose ends, she didn't have to end our relationship, but as time went on I grew more convinced she had no intention of coming back.
She told me that she was going back to visit her ex's family, to let them see the boys again and explain why she left. I told her point blank that her therapist had not given her the tools she needed to survive the trip; I feared that she would immediately get sucked back into the family and find herself stuck again by manipulation and guilt. Without boring you with the details of the next seven weeks, that was exactly what happened.
I have to admit that I was emotionally distraught. I knew she could never come back on her own; she was still convinced I wouldn't take her back given the debacle she had created, but I felt that was just an excuse so she wouldn't have to feel guilty about leaving me. Out of desperation, I wouldn't let go; I knew she had made a mistake.
Finally she called me and told me I had been right all along - she wasn't strong enough yet. She couldn't understand how her therapist could have let her go. She had to find work to keep the water on at the house her ex rented, and the boys were getting into fist fights with family members. She felt she now deserved the lot she had dealt herself.
Lesson number six: Taking the control back.
I don't know if it was selfishness or ego on my part, or if I truly believed I could make a difference in someone's life, but I planned another "rescue" mission. I got on a plane, flew into San Francisco, and drove to their smaller town, but this time I would be in control of her departure - all she had to do was to pack up the boys and follow me back on the airplane. It was still her choice, but this time I knew that if she came home, it would be because she wanted to be with me. She knew the rules hadn't changed; she would be my submissive, and to this day she insists it is really what she wants.
We spent a few days talking about what had to happen. For my physical safety I avoided confrontation with her ex - he had no idea I was even there, and I coordinated everything from my hotel. She let everyone know she and the boys would be leaving, and that I had arranged for their return. I called and told her I had four tickets home, and that I was sending a car. Being a smartass, and as a treat for the boys, I sent them a stretch limousine. (Pretentious, I know, but it was fun.)
My hotel was about thirty-five miles from where they were staying. When the car pulled up, the boys jumped out of the car to hug me, and that really surprised me because I thought they had always considered me an old stuffed shirt. Perhaps even they were beginning to understand adults are to lead and protect them, not just to play video games with them.
Conclusion: Where are we headed?
I've always thought one of my greatest strengths was the ability to lead surreptitiously, because I believe that forcing people to participate or obey goes against human nature. She may not even realize it, but my babygirl taught me a valuable lesson in the care and feeding of a submissive. For some people, Master really does know best.
As you can imagine, last summer was tumultuous for all of us. By not trusting my own instincts I almost lost the greatest relationship I've ever had. Don't get me wrong, we have our ups and downs, and she is difficult to tame, but just about every day she reminds me of my goal. She knows I want to morph her into a slave, and she insists it is where she wants to be.
She is no longer allowed to travel anywhere without me and she likes that. I thought a consensual submissive/slave would still want to feel the freedom of choice, but she saw that as indifference and it hurt her deeply to think that I didn't care enough to take control of her. I do not judge others in our lifestyle, but I have my opinions about our own. I know there are some dominants out there who do not care if a slave comes or goes, but I guess I have too much at stake to let her go again. She is what I've always wanted, my favorite toy no matter how often I have to patch her up.
I insist she continues with her therapy, albeit with a new doctor - there are days when she loves it and others where she hates it. We've joined a gym (something else I'd recommend) to work on our physical well-being, as I've worked out on and off for years and I always felt better emotionally when I did.
We talk every night. There can never be enough said about communication; although I feel we've always communicated well, this essay demonstrates how easily words can be misinterpreted. We continue to write e-mails to each other; there are times when she writes me one while sitting right next to me. We often use our e-mails to provoke thought and inspire questions.
I'm not convinced that either one of us will ever be completely fixed. We stay conscious of our mental illnesses, but we don't let it drive us. Sometimes I think she has a bigger challenge keeping up with my bi-polar episodes than I have dealing with her depression and lapses in judgment. It seems that the more we accept it, the less effect it has on us.