Dirty Little Secrets

In response to “I am Her. She is Me.” written by Nerdy Dirty Girl


When Eiren & I first met each other, I was a different person.

I don’t mean to say that in an I’ve changed sort of way, which I have in a lot of ways, but in this particular case… I was actually somebody else.

I met Eiren when I was 16 year old. She was 29 at the time, and…

Well, let’s just say that I shouldn’t have been doing the things that I was doing as a minor… I shouldn’t have been on SecondLife, I shouldn’t have been “looking for a Mistress” when I could have directly been the cause of actually, legitimately ruining somebodies life. I shouldn’t have been doing a whole lot of things. A whole lot of things.

But, you know… I’d do those things again if it meant I could meet her all over again.

In any case, I was 16 and she was 29.

So I lied.

I didn’t know how old she was at the time, but I knew that she was an adult. I wasn’t completely an idiot, not enough to jeopardize my own identity… just enough to jeopardize the livelihood of someone I was finding myself to care about. So still a pretty fucking huge idiot.

For all Eiren knew, I was an established, well paid, attractive, moderately intelligent 22 year old who spoke sweet things to her and – for the first time in her life – made her feel genuinely happy.

I called her Mistress, I called her Ma’am, I called her Miss, Madame, Goddess… and I called her Eiren. I’d skip school, something I was already doing of course, but with the express intent of spending the entire day on Skype and in SecondLife with her.

I’d go to work once or twice a week to support my SecondLife simulator, show up to class just enough to not be expelled or become truant (which isn’t a whole lot, mind you), and instead of aimlessly walking around by the train tracks or sleeping in some public library… I dedicated my every waking moment to being with her, to being her long-distance submissive.

And, you know what? She embraced it… she took care of me… So I’d lie again to keep the story going… I’d tell her that I needed to go to work, to keep up appearances, and I’d sit on Skype with my Microphone muted all day… just listening to her. Listening to her laugh, and joke, and have a good time… and by 3:00PM I’d unmute myself and say that I’d been let off early… and to hear how excited she was for me to be home absolutely melted my heart… and she’d siphon it off the ground, put it in a vial, and hold it for the rest of the night… My heart would be hers for every single moment of attention that she gave me.

But I was keeping secrets and they weren’t going to last forever… and I knew that one day she’d know that I had been lying to her, and I knew that the day that she knew that I had been lying to her she would be broken… she would never trust anyone again…

So I kept my dirty little secrets and I was so, so scared. Every moment that I might sit in quiet, every time she’d leave the computer or me by myself while she worked with a client…

All I could think about was her finding out my secrets.

How old I really was… what I was really doing during the day while she had fun and bragged about me to her friends…

What I was doing.

Why I was doing it.

And so I lied for two years… until the day of my 18th Birthday.

And I called her on the phone…

I was too scared to be on SecondLife. I was too afraid to be in front of the virtual avatar that she had created and I had so lovingly attached myself to…

I was too afraid to watch her pick up her things, block me, and leave.

And so I called her, crying my eyes out, sobbing heavy hard tears…

And I told her the truth about everything.

She listened quietly. Occasionally, she’d ask a question or for clarification… and what I remember most about it was that she spoke to me like she always had…

She spoke to me as her confidant. She told me to speak up as my Mistress. She made me repeat something if I hadn’t said it in the way that we’d always done it.

Her way.

But, you know… she told me that she had to think about it for a while before she could speak to me again… and she hung up.

And I cried harder than I’ve ever cried before and it was without a doubt the single hardest thing that I ever did in that point of my life. I stayed up until she called me back and I cried the entire time. I cried until there were no more tears and all I felt were empty sobs… For hours… Many hours.

And then she called me and spoke to me, of which I will not write because it is mine, but she accepted me… and forgave me… and she told me that she loved me, and that I’d have to re-earn every ounce of trust that was now gone… and that I would be punished.

And I was, and I will not speak of that either.

So she was left with me… the real me. She was left with the 18 year old Berkson who had spent the last two years skipping school to be with her in a video game, who had scarcely gone to work… and who desperately, hopelessly loved her.

All my dirty little secrets were gone, and even though they could have broken and destroyed me and her both… ultimately it was that first act of real, genuine trust that paved the way for our life together.


My friend, one of the most important lessons I ever learned was that if I wanted my relationship to last, I wouldn’t be able to keep secrets…

That I couldn’t and wouldn’t always be able to keep who I was separate from the life that I was actively living, even if much of what I said to her as someone else was more me than I had ever actively been before.

And that I cared about her, far too much, to ever exclude her from the real me. Even when it was scary and it hurt, more than anything had before.

I know that you’ll find a way to balance, regardless of the decision you decide to make.

Elust #82

Photo courtesy of Teachers Have Sex

Welcome to Elust #82

The only place where the smartest and hottest sex bloggers are featured under one roof every month. Whether you’re looking for sex journalism, erotic writing, relationship advice or kinky discussions it’ll be here at Elust. Want to be included in Elust #83? Start with the rules, come back June 1st to submit something and subscribe to the RSS feed for updates!

~ This Month’s Top Three Posts ~

Take Me
How Do I Love Thee:On Comparing Relationships
Asking all the questions…

~ Featured Post (Molly’s Picks) ~

Erotic Fiction: Fishnet Queen
I Manage My Expectations

~ Readers Choice from Sexbytes ~

You really should consider adding your popular posts here too!

Wanna Have Sex With Me? – Here’s how

Sex News, Opinion, Interviews, Politics & Humor

Maybe I’m not a pervert after all
Bad Excuses
Engaging with Sexuality: A Personal Perspecti
I wish there were more porn
Cock Size: Does it matter?
Blue is not a “boy color.”

Erotic Non-Fiction

Watching My Wife With Another Man Story
Afternoon Cunnilingus & Birthday Sofa Sex
Why You Should Shave Your Partner
Oct 2014 Session – Mistress Claire
Two Days Later
Roping a cougarling
Divining Rods
Dorabella’s pink-velvet spanner

Erotic Fiction

Puppy Love
Quick & Dirty
She Says My Voice Changes for Her
THE BLINDFOLD – fear of the unknown
U is for undress…
Stay Baby…Stay.
kink of the week–glasses

Thoughts & Advice on Sex & Relationships

Slutfest Reflection
Love and Fairness
Winnowing
V is for……..
My heart turns blacker: the new rules

Thoughts & Advice on Kink & Fetish

Blast from the Fetish Video Past
The whole person approach to Submission
Down on my knees
Dominant Doppelgangers, Dominant Opposites
Four eyes
BDSM and Depression: Therapy or Self-Harm?

Poetry

Eden, Revisited: A Lusty Limerick

Writing About Writing

Stepping Stones
Centering Disabled Characters in My Erotica

Elust

The Whole Person Approach to Submission

More often than not, my posts seemingly don’t have anything to do with the dynamic Eiren & I share… and it’s not that I don’t have anything to say about traditional Dominance & Submission of the sort that details how this interaction or that interaction helps me delve deeper into my own submission and let go, it’s just that it’s not in my worldview to believe that I’m “complete” or that I’ve “become a better submissive” because of singular encounters in my life.

Let me explain.

Eiren & Berkson have had a really good head day, Eiren didn’t have difficulty asserting her natural dominance and Berkson fell in step behind her. Titles came naturally and without thought and where it’d be out of place or inclusive to someone not welcome in our space, forms of address were used or teased in more subtle ways. Berkson might open every door that day, find an excuse to kneel before her in public, like “tying her shoes” or “fixing her pant leg”, but she knows the real reason without it being asked or suggested. Everything goes well on this day, it “just feels right.”

The next day might be completely the opposite.

Work and lack of sleep make Berkson grouchy today, Eiren is struggling with depression and can’t find the motivation to work out. Titles aren’t really used, even in the privacy of our home things are stressed because the circumstances just aren’t letting us feel who we want to be. Everything isn’t going well at all, it just “doesn’t feel right.”

In the examples above, it’s obvious that things are different, but it’s not so obvious that the people are not different.

Do you see where I’m going with this?

A lot of the time people struggle to see that it’s circumstances that are changing, not people. Just because someone had a good day doesn’t mean they’re a different person, it must means that they had a good day.

I don’t like to look at the really good days or the really bad days to mark my progress as Eiren’s submissive, and I really don’t like looking at things that I may do right for her as indicators that I’m progressing well, because the truth is that isn’t my call to begin with: It’s hers.

She is the authority on my submission and she is the Judge & Jury for my progression, because I choose to submit to her and submit myself to her will. I can’t read her mind (I sure wish I could) and it isn’t always clear to me what she might be thinking or how I might be doing in her eyes.

I like to take a different approach. It’s about looking at everything that I am and judging, for myself, who I want to be and how I’m going to get there. It’s about asking Eiren who she wants me to be and setting a goal in my mind, making a plan of action, and doing those things. It’s about comparing the two and understanding that circumstances might make it harder to do, but never impossible. It’s about the bigger picture.

When I talk about the things in my life that aren’t outwardly about my views of dominance & submission, rest assuredly that they absolutely are:

If I’m talking about the gym, it’s because Eiren told me that I’m going to be strong & have a sexier body for her.

If I’m talking about going to school, it’s because Eiren never wants to work again and I need to make enough money to satisfy her desire.

If I’m talking about my fears, it’s because Eiren has asked to me to find a way to conquer it.

Every single part of me is on this journey and every single part of me wants to make what she wants happen. I try to look at the whole person and I think that every single part of my life is directly connected to Eiren. Every single part of it.

So that when I focus on the bigger picture I can understand that the bad day I’m having isn’t because I’m a bad submissive, and I can can look forward to making more of the good days happen. So when I go to bed at night, I know that even if I’m not making progress on one particular task or another, I’m making progress as a person.

As Eiren’s person.

I am an argonaut

You know, it’s funny. There are stories about people, authors, or artists who stumble upon inspiration and suddenly a story has to follow it.

An artist draws a picture and words speak from his character.
An author makes a supporting character and they come to life.
A group of boys who hear tales of adventure and become heroes.

I heard a word in a show a couple months ago, and the word spoke to me in quite a literal way, a “This is who I and what I am.” sort of thing. A revelation of sorts, even.

I am an argonaut.

First and before everything else in my life, I’m an adventurer and I’ve always been one. Through every aspect of my life, I’ve been on a quest of some sort:

Find the girl. (Meet Eiren.)
Win the heart of a Queen! (Fall in love with each other.)
Seek the treasure. (Make bad decisions.)
Cleanse the castle. (Fix some of the bad decisions. ~~Whoops.~~)
Save the Queen. (Find a way to save Eiren’s life…)

Visit the dungeon… (Ahem…)

And it’s so fitting to me to say that, and it feels so right that I can’t help but to feel attached to the word. I can’t help but listen to what it’s telling me sit and pay attention, because there have been people before me who can teach me, and there will be people after me who I’ll teach.

Adventurers make mistakes all the damn time. They stumble and they fail and they die. More often than not, they’re really not heroes of any sort… but sometimes they do small things here and there for the greater good… and sometimes not. They become the villain, and die miserably.

But at the end of the day, they’re just people. What the word really, truly says to me is: “You’re only human” and because of this, each and every single one of us is an adventurer.

Not everyones adventure turns into an epic and history has taught us that… So, really, I’m no one special at all.

I’m just the boy who wanted to save the Queen.

I’ll tell my ever-growing story and not many people will look at it twice and think: “What an adventurous life!” but I think that’s probably for the best. I’ll live through the struggle and overcome the challenges that await every day life the best that I can. I’ll learn from parents, teachers, friends, enemies and, of course, my Queen.

Sometimes I’ll just sit and relax, too. I’ll reflect on my story and look for lessons that I may have missed when I first experienced it.

Life is an adventure, we all know this… but I don’t think all of us know that we’re the adventurers.

Atychiphobia

It’s funny to me that, at twenty-four, for the first time in my life I can say that I have friends or people that I can turn to for advice, to whine or complain at, or even… come back to.

And to be honest, I guess that I’ve never felt that anyone other than Eiren would be there for me consistently.

Not my co-workers. Not my family. Not my parents.

atychiphobia
  (n.) fear of failure; fear of not being good enough

In my first blog post and to the people I spoken to regularly on twitter, I’ve made it pretty clear that friends aren’t really my thing. Not for a lack of trying or desire, but because I feel that after getting to know people, any further communication from me – physical, verbal, non-verbal, even eye-contact – is me imposing myself upon them.

I become timid.

I become awkward.

I become frightened.

I’m so afraid of failing, of not being good enough for the people I love and care for. Every day at work is a struggle and every breath I take is a challenge, because one small step backwards or slip in the gravel means I’ve failed everyone and everything that I’ve worked for. I’ve let people down, because I couldn’t do the things that they expected from me. They deserve better…

…At least…
…that’s how I’ve always felt about it….

Until I made friends. Until I could vent to people and make mistakes and apologize (profusely) and have them say to me: “You worry too much!” and brush my fear away like a strand of loose hair on their shoulder.

Having friends is fucking weird, and feeling like I’m not good enough for them is a daily thing. I don’t want to fail them, I’m terrified that I might do or say something that would offend them or make me vulnerable; but now I know that it’s (mostly) irrational.

Because of them, because of their friendship and… really… just talking to me, from asking about my day, to talking about their own, to just… talking…

It’s helped me not be overcome with fear…

I’m still scared,
but my friends think I’m just being silly,
so maybe I am… just being silly.

Hiding behind a mask

The mask has been with her all of her life, she was born with it, and it has always been there for her to hide behind when she needed protection, when she needed space, and when she needed to be alone.

And when she was alone, she’d take it off and sit down at her desk, happy and fearless, to view another world of anonymity and safety… her Second Life, the internet, the games, another universe…

Because for her, it was just another mask and it was comfortable and she was sure that there was no real difference between the one on her face, and the one on the net. She was safe behind a blackened screen where no one would ever see her. But that isn’t quite true.

You can hide your face, and you can hide your body. You can pretend, and you can lie, and you can run.

But if you let someone into your life, you can not always hide your soul.

And so the second mask slowly faded until it was gone and forgotten, and she was left with only the mask she was born with. When she finally let me visit her, she was certain that the mask was full and dark and black and safe. She was sure that it covered everything precious, because she was ashamed of who she was, terrified that if she took it off, I’d be able to see her for what she saw in herself.

Oh, my wonderful lover… she never realized that I could always see right through it, and all I saw was beauty…

And I will let this one fade until it’s gone forever, too…

Alone in my room

It was dark again and it hadn’t stopped surprising me yet. I could hear the birds and the freeway in the distance, the bustling of life from behind the now blackened windows, and it was perfect and cold and it was dark.

The sun was usually so harsh, but now the only light was from dim glowing letters of the keyboard hidden from sight. It shone against the ceiling and around the tall wood and leather chair, that much resembled a throne to me, sitting grandly before the oak desk. I lay and thought approving thoughts to myself for a while, but it hadn’t been my idea, it had been Hers.

“Go to the hardware store and buy blackout film.” she had instructed me the week before, sick and tired of me not getting the rest that she expected I get.

“God that’s nice…” I said happily to myself as I sat up from my bed in the near complete darkness, my wool cover caught and started wrapping itself around my legs as they slid over the edge of the bed. I shivered and pulled it over my shoulders too. I was facing the tall back of the chair now and I stood, walking the distance from the bed to the desk.

My hand grazed the top of the chair to pull it back but I stopped to admire it first in the dark. It was solid and strong. It wasn’t a chair meant for a desk, it was meant for a grand 20ft dining room table, and this one sat at the head. I had taken it from the set earlier in the year, no one used that part of the house anymore anyways… and I’d be damned if it would sit and not receive the use it deserved. It was beautiful, and the faint red glow of the keyboard shone every crevice and every carving inside the arms a smoldering red shadow.

Gripping the back of the chair, I pulled it heavily to the side and sat down, the wool blanket protecting my backside from the sharp cold of the thick polished leather then began awkwardly shuffling myself and the chair back to it’s home, seated directly in front of the desk. I grabbed my headset and put it on snugly over my ears.

I could hear her now. I could hear her labored breathing and heavy snoring, I wanted to call out and wake her, but I didn’t.

It must still be early if she is asleep.” I thought, bringing my knees up from the ground and to my chest, I leaned just enough back and moved my rear end just enough forward so I was comfortably caught between the desk’s top and chair.

She was three hours ahead of me and she was fast asleep. I didn’t know the time and I wouldn’t look to the phone or the computer without permission that hadn’t been given, but it didn’t really matter anyways. We would spend all day together, and it wasn’t too unlikely that it was past noon for me.

I reached up and found the cord to my headset and slid my fingers down until I found the dongle that held the mute button. My fingers played with it and teased it for a while, but I didn’t push it.

It was dark again and it hadn’t stopped surprising me yet. I sat in the darkness before a dimly glowing red keyboard and pitch black computer screen. The red shone against my sunken body and created dull shadows of tan and red on the wool blanket.

I smiled and pressed the button, singing softly…

Starry starry night…

Disabilities & Submission, Part 1: Fixing

I’m no one special, and I don’t have this fantastic life where my Mistress & I share in an almost otherworldly exchange of power. I’m just some guy who blogs badly and writes worse, trying to give you some insight in a relationship that is, a lot of the time, rocky, scary, depressing, and sad.

Throughout all of this, my dearest hope is that most of all that you who come to read this that may be in a similar situation understand that this isn’t an end all, be all guide to submitting under these circumstances, it is simply my experience. I’m not a doctor, I’m not educated, I’m just Eiren’s and to speak on behalf of our relationship is the only qualification I possess.

This is part one of a series of, well, I don’t really know. They’ll be erratic, and confusing, long, and probably won’t have a conclusion.


Prelude

I don’t really know what I’m doing with my life, because I’m not the person that I really want to be, but I’m with the person I was meant to be with. I’m with someone who, like me, is confused about what she wants to do with the rest of her life.

Unlike me, however, she started off never having a chance.

I was born into money and, through my own choices, am in debt that I’ll have to work myself out of. I am healthy, and strong, and although I don’t know where I’m going, I’ve always known that I have the ability to make something for or of myself.

She was born into poverty and through the choices of those people around her who should have provided her with a future and security of health, they pushed and dragged her down a hole of ineptitude, bigotry, and suffering.

The hurt and hell that she had to go through to get here was awful, and it’s painful to think about, but looking at her frustrated because she doesn’t know what she’s going to do, just like me, makes me so happy… your life wasn’t lost, and everything that has happened in your past doesn’t have to determine your future.

Shit’s hard, yo.

You know, I feel like I’m always complaining… and it’s one of the things I hate about myself. Why can’t I write about happy things? Why is it that I am always having problems, or something is always going wrong.

The truth is, I really don’t know. I don’t know why I’m not more upbeat and with it, and I wish I was. I wish I could tell you how happy life is, and how easy life is being for me. How the good things that happen to me come easily and without unintended problems of their own, and how the bad things go quickly and don’t have a lasting impact.

Unfortunately, that’s just not the card I was dealt.

I support someone who’s body & mind are, for all intents and purposes, broken.

I support someone who isn’t capable of holding down a job largely due to her anxiety and agoraphobia, and isn’t capable of receiving benefits from the government due to having never worked and thus not being eligible for public assistance.

I support someone who has special diet restrictions that are largely expensive on top of the debt that we’ve both accumulated for being immature and irresponsible.

I support someone who, on nearly a daily basis, thinks about suicide and how much easier it would be for me if she just killed herself.

Someone who, before she met me, was just waiting around to die.

Having to be a fixer when you don’t want to be.

If I were to tell you that her life was a mess before I actually moved in with her, I’d be grossly understating the situation.

At the same time, though, if I were to tell you that she was completely willing to change her life around when I started trying to make changes, I’d be a fucking liar.

For example, Eiren didn’t want to hear me tell her that she had to quit smoking. It was obvious to me that she had breathing problems and heart issues without ever needing to see the doctor, but to her… who the FUCK was I to tell her to quit smoking?

Why is this child telling me to quit smoking? I was smoking before he was even born. How dare he come into my home and tell me that I need to quit. I’m PERFECTLY FUCKING HEALTHY.

Eiren’s inner monologue, most likely.

The problems I could see and the problems she could see weren’t always exactly the same, if you catch my drift. Smoking needed to go. It wasn’t that I disliked it, which I do, but she couldn’t breathe during the day when she wasn’t doing anything difficult at all… and when she slept? She’d snore so loud that she’d wake me, and herself up, multiple times a night. I could tell she had the beginning stages of emphysema if she didn’t already have it.

So, I went about fixing it… and that wasn’t fun, or honest, or loving.

We’d argue about her buying cigarettes, we’d argue about her smoking cigarettes. She’d promise & swear to quit after this last pack, but before the pack was done, she’d make an excuse to go to the supermarket…

…and accidentally buy another pack…

…and accidentally smoke another cigarette from that pack…

And this accomplished two things for her:

  1. It allowed her to not be anxious about losing smoking from her life, and
  2. It allowed her to not have to return the pack since she had already opened it.

After all, to her, she didn’t have a problem, I did. I was being selfish because I wasn’t a smoker and I wanted her to get rid of it because I didn’t like the smell or the taste or the smoke.

And this caused conflict. A lot of it. She’d lie to me about quitting, so I wouldn’t trust her. She’d be hurt that I didn’t trust her and go smoke, and the cycle would continue.

This was just the first example of a few that affected our relationship and lives when we got together, and it wasn’t the most significant… just the most relatable.

Quitting was a lot more anticlimactic than most other stories like this, because as our relationship developed trust was building elsewhere. I didn’t become consumed in a quest in making her quit, because for me… it really was just more water under the bridge.

I mean to say that it was great when she did quit, but compared to other events in our history it doesn’t hold it’s own weight.

Around a month before our marriage, we finally compromised on a solution to quit her addiction to tobacco… I’d buy her an E-Cigarette, and she would stop smoking a pack a day.

And that’s really how it happened. We didn’t have a moment together, we didn’t find peace, it just settled and died on it’s own. After the e-cigarette, she stopped buying packs completely and bought juices instead… which she liked, for a little while.

And then she’d smoke it much less, because she didn’t really enjoy it anymore…

And then she’d stop buying juice with nicotine in it…

And, like that, after around six months… she was done smoking completely.

And, like I said, it was great… but I never stopped being concerned about everything else that was happening, and even after our marriage changing things was difficult.

I didn’t think that I’d come into a relationship with someone that I loved as much as I love Eiren and be faced with so much difficulty and I never thought that I’d have to ask her to change anything.

Honestly, I was very naive in believing she was more perfect than she was… and that sounds awful, but it’s important, too.

She would be dead if I hadn’t made changes in her life and been there to nag her and bother her and prod her.

She would be gone if our relationship hadn’t had been so rocky at the beginning of it, if I had been complacent with who she was and how she was living her life.

And I would be lost without her.

I never wanted to be a fixer, but for us… it’s what we needed.

Your Wounds don’t make you any less Beautiful

For those of you who follow me on Twitter, I think I’ve made it pretty clear Eiren has had a very hard life…

Sometimes our bodies fight against us. Eiren has had more than her fair share of misery in her life because of it, but for the first time in her life she’s been able to take back control. Exercise has helped, and so have many hard surgeries… but the thing that has helped the most, I think, was my support…

She had never had someone in her life genuinely care about her well being, and… with all of the humility I can muster, I am proud to say that I absolutely do.

Eiren had another major surgery last week, and has had nothing but bad thoughts about how she looks… although I see her as beautiful, sometimes it takes another little nudge from something else to remind us that our brains aren’t always on our side.

My Mistress, my love…

Your wounds don’t make you any less beautiful…

**But they will make you stronger...**

How I met Berkson

Note: This podcast was transcribed by Berkson for clarity and accuracy, however to really hear the heart and soul of the story, please listen to the audio version available above or on SoundCloud.

Hi everybody it’s Eiren and I thought I’d give you my happy femdom story [Happy Femdom Stories Wanted via Domme-Chronicles by Ferns] on how I met Berkson…

How I met Berkson

We met on a game called Second Life, something that I’ve been playing for around 10 years now.

I was a virtual escort, well, I guess I can say I kind of still am… I login to play with some of my older and more loyal clients still, which, if you’re curious on how that works, Second Life has it’s own economy and currency (called Lindens) which can be earned through the game, or sold and bought for other currencies at the going exchange rate, that is used to purchase goods and objects on Second Life. It’s kind of like the Sims, only better.

So… years ago when I started playing, I was actually working my way through college and needed the money really badly. I learned really quickly that I had the gift of gab, and men were willing to pay me to essentially talk or type dirty at them and there was a large market for men that wanted to get off to a dirty hot avatar who wouldn’t complain about their fantasies and had no limits. It was a really easy way for me to make money.

Anyways, I’m going to tell you about how I met him:

I had a mutual friend with my ex in this game who co-owned a full-prim sim, called a region. If you don’t know a whole lot about Second Life, you’re not missing much, but to be short a sim was a place where you could visit and do various things, like shop, place objects, or build… among other things. Owners generally shared land or rented it out because of the huge monthly costs, around $500USD a month at the time.

Well, through our friend, my ex was actually given a piece of this land, called a parcel. She teleported me over to her, and was telling me all about how the owners, one being my friend, of the region were giving out free parcels and asking me if I wanted any inside of a private message, and I was thinking… Nah. At that point in time I had like four parcels already, with stuff all over them. I didn’t really need a new one.

And so, in general chat, I casually said something along the lines of: “No thanks, I already have my hands in a lot of cookie jars.” Well, the proprietor of the sim, Berkson, was sitting up there because he had been teleported in to meet me and my ex by our friend.

He didn’t really take it the right way. He took it as I was trying to put my hand in HIS cookie jar.

To me, I felt like I was being judged by this rando and was imagining him thinking something like: “You filthy, filthy whore, how dare you, how dar– you’re so gross. Gross. You just want my money, I can’t believe you, gross, yuck, ew.” and he didn’t want anything else to do with me.

Needless to say, we instantly hated each other.

How our relationship developed

So he left pretty soon after that to go somewhere else on his region just to get away from me.

Over the next month or two, I kept coming to the region… not only because it was a pretty cool place, but that was where my ex was, and another person I had met over there, and on my down time when I wasn’t virtually making “teh sex” with people: That’s where I was. They had a nice shopping mall, movie system, and Berkson had actually made it a pretty chill place just for people to hang out and come together at.

Well, over the next two months, he was very snippet with me. He never told me what the issue was, but he just didn’t like me, I even remember him showing off his “house” with my ex, who teleported me in, showing off how he had this or that, which felt like he was kind of throwing his money around, but the funny thing about it was that he was trying to make himself feel important.

Being who I was, and what I looked like in the game compared to him, he was nothing. He looked awful. He just looked like damnit. If I was filet mignon, he was ground hamburger. So, you know, he was showing me this and that, and I piped up and was like: “Let’s go look at what I’ve got!”

So I’d teleport them all to my houses and be like: “Aaaand… this is what you SHOULD have.”

To be fair, I was kind of being a dick on my own, but I just felt so attacked by him. I was so used to people absolutely fawning over me, and this dude just didn’t give a shit about it. He didn’t try to message me as an escort, he didn’t try to be friends with me, he just was caught up in his own little world and his region… and in a weird way, he was kind of showboating for me, and at that point I don’t think either of us realized it.

Neither one of us really understood “the lifestyle” that we live now, you know… writing erotica for guys online is not the same thing as applying it in real life and it’s obviously not the same thing as trying to train somebody in Second Life, either. You know, it’s completely different from game to real life and from real life to game, and the disconnect in between is so huge to two people who had no real concept of power-exchange.

Well, over the next two months we kind of butted heads every time we met on the region. You know, he was just kind of aggravated with me but wasn’t the kind of person to ban or kick people off of this place he had made for everyone, and I was just like “ugh, what a douche” and… eventually, somehow we got on the same subject of World of Warcraft and well, he played both the high end PVP and PVE end games and PVP wasn’t something I was interested in, I was interested in PVE… and we started to kind of bond over the fact that we had played PVE at such a ridiculously high level at a point in our lives.

Once we had that kind of initial connect, it was easier for us to transition into friends and that’s what it became. We kind of tolerated each other for a while, then: “Oh!” it clicked, “Maybe You’re not as big of a douche” for me and “Maybe you’re not as big of a whore” for him “…as I thought you were.”

And we connected. Over time, over the next month (this is ‘time’ in Second Life), I actually decided to take him on as my sub in game. We weren’t dating at the time, we were kind of just feeling things out, and he had a lot of time on his hands and I was going through college and had a lot of time on my hands, and we were both just so very lonely… I had just gotten though a very hard time in my life with my ex, and just having somebody who was nice to me and did not want anything from me besides my company, meant the world to me at that time.

I had been so abused at this point that any kind of attention was better than nothing, and so even before taking him on even when he was being kind of a douche, I was still happy to have some kind of non-negative interaction. So it took another, maybe, two months for him and I to spend some actual, serious alone time together… and as the time went on, we started spending time on Skype together. And we would actually spend all day long when he was home on Skype together… and we would actually leave Skype on at night and he would call me Mistress in game and we would spend all of our time together, and you know, when I made money I started wanting to make money for the both of us, and we started to rebuild the entire region… and it was something that we did together that was so magical, so rewarding for me… I felt that I had a friend. I felt that he was more than a friend, that I had found my best friend… and, we were together for a long time in game and actually got “married” in game after we met.

It didn’t take long, probably the better part of a year, where he decided he was going to come visit me. Well, I lived alone, and I was disabled… so it was very hard to let someone come into my life, not knowing the kind of struggles that I had… and he was just, well, phenomenal.

He accepted me for who I was, he accepted who I am, he accepted me with ALL of my flaws… and it’s still crazy to me, to this day, to have somebody come into my life and for me to put all of my baggage on the table and say “Here’s what I have” and for him to pick it up and say “I’ll help you carry this”, but I appreciated that more than anything else in the world. I appreciated for him to say, Hey… I’ll help bare this load for you, I can tell that you can’t do it alone… and he really WAS my best friend at that point in time.

We met up, and it was magical, it was 12 days and I’ll never forget it… we spent most of our time in bed, and I don’t mean sexually, I mean like cuddling, canoodling, laying on each other and holding each other and rubbing each other, talking… we played endless hours of monopoly, by the way he’s a big fat cheater and he can’t tell me otherwise because he wins EVERY SINGLE GAME, bastard, but we spent hours just watching movies and snuggling and it was something that I just… had never, ever experienced. I guess that if you just find that one person that you click with, that one person that just fits that hole in your heart, your whole world changes.

He was with me for only 12 days and, when he went home, both of us just knew this was it. This was IT. We needed to be together. So, it took 3 months for him to save enough money to actually move in with me, so, once we moved in together we had kind of decided some things, that we had talked about being in a power-exchange relationship, but to be completely and totally honest with you, neither one of us knew what that meant. I mean, I had a tiny bit of background in kink, and he had Second Life kink, and we both kind of expected that this was the way things would be, and it would be an easy transition and that was NOT what happened at all.

It did not happen that way, it was bad. I was very naive, and he was very naive, and expectations were not the same on both ends and it was hard. Our relationship was difficult for many years because he wasn’t really able to be my submissive, he had to be my caretaker, my provider, for the better part of our relationship because of how sick I really was, and we were just absolutely incapable of having the kind of power-exchange relationship that we have now, even though both of us deeply craved it, I needed him more as my protector and caregiver and to make hard decisions that I just couldn’t make more then I needed him to be my pet, my submissive, my slave… whatever you like to call it. So, over the span of the last six years, it’s just been very, very hard for us. Now we are finally where we want to be, and exploring the type of lifestyle that we’ve been dreaming we could live together, and learning more about each other, and… for me, it’s so rewarding seeing him literally at my feet, and know that he trusts me, and seeing him besides me as we walk and knowing that, man, this is what we should have been the whole time but couldn’t.

I think we had to walk through that fire before we could have this relationship, our relationship, that we really wanted to have. And, you know, we’re still growing, we’re still changing, we’re still finding each other, we’re still building our bonds tighter and stronger so they can’t be broken, and you know that means more to me than anything.

What I love about him

I’m very much a cuddle domme, that’s what I identify myself as. Am I a sadist? Am I a masochist? That’s not what I really think of when I think of myself being a domme, I think of myself as somebody who’s very nurturing and loving, but I’m also strict and protective, and you know, I do my very best to take care of him as much as he taken care of me, and he is still very much my protector and he always comes to my aid when I need him, but our relationship has changed so drastically over the last two years especially, it has been something I’ve waited so long for and it is so rewarding and worth the wait for me…

So, it’s easy for me to tell you what I love about him. His compassion and his kindness are unsurpassed. His ability to see the good in people, in literally everyone, even when I’m jaded and I don’t, his ability to uphold justice, he has a very righteous indignation and is very, like, this is right and this is wrong, and I will fight to the death for it… and that is my boy, I LOVE that about him, I love that he feels so fiercely over some things, nature, animals, people, his heart is so open and he’s not jaded… I love the fact that the world hasn’t ruined him even though he had to deal with so much at a young age, including coming close to losing me, I love that his negative experiences haven’t tarnished him over time like they have done to me, I’m just now, because of him, opening back up and being able to see new possibilities and learn to live again, and with him by my side, I feel like the possibilities are absolutely endless…

But, most of all… what I love about him most of all is that he makes me feel like I’m the most important person in the entire world, he makes me feel like he loves me, like he loves me more than anyone…

And how he treats me, that he can make me feel like I’m beautiful, and gorgeous, and sexy, no matter what I’m wearing. I could be wearing and old torn shirt, and a pair of yoga pants, and he’d be just as happy to lick my feet compared to if I were wearing a latex dress, which by the way I’m deathly allergic to latex, but if I wasn’t, a latex dress and thigh highs…

You know, he has this ability to see things in me, in people, that I haven’t been able to see until recently and still can’t see all the way, and love me even when I can’t love myself. To lift me up when I needed it the most in the world, to shine the light in the darkness when I thought all hope was lost.

I love the fact that he has never given up on me, and that is something that you won’t find nowadays very easily and outside of books.

And, he’s incredibly handsome. Very, very handsome. And he’s beautiful, and a big fat turd. That’s what he is.

Why it works for us

So, now you want to know why it works for us… that’s an interesting question, it works for us because the power-exchange is not just sexual for us, and yes it’s hot and we enjoy it and it extends into sex and that’s a big part of it, but it’s something that we both feel deeply about. I feel it deep inside myself, it’s so hard to explain, there is nothing more satisfying than tying him up and watching him squirm and his eyes roll into the back of his head and his body shutter for me… when his abs clench, and his toes curl, when I’m just massaging him or playing with his prostate or milking his balls, or something like that, that… trust, that giving in and ebb and flow is something that is hard to even fathom unless you’ve even been there.

That both of us laying on top of each other completely covered in sweat and falling asleep, that half-asleep feeling that you get, those butterfly’s in your stomach that are so tight… that you feel like it’s going to burst.

That’s why it works for us.

It makes me feel like he’s the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen in my entire life, and it’s not just because of looks, his personality matches it, and just how sweet, and beautiful, and kindhearted he is… makes my life so much easier.

Don’t get me wrong, he’s incredibly sexy, and mostly said a turd, because he’s writing this on the screen for me to say, so I’m just going to throw that out there… mostly said a turd. A big, fat, steaming pile of poop, that’s what you are, Sir…

But we make each other laugh, and, I love when he’s completely spent after a session and he is limp and in my arms and breathing heavily into my chest and just rubbing my fingers through his hair, and that level of trust and that level of love when he calls me Ma’am, or his Mistress, or his Queen, or his Goddess… that is something that money can’t buy, that a vanilla relationship could not give me, that ultimate sense of power and love and trust… I love that.

How it makes me feel

How does it make me feel?

Like the most important person in the world, it makes me feel like I’m the most special person that has ever lived. That my purpose is exemplified, to be able to be with somebody and have that ultimate feeling of trust in your hands and have somebody look at you and be like… you’re my universe, it makes me feel on top of the world.

So this will be my first podcast, and I hope that you guys enjoyed it… Let me know what you think.