Too much?

You misunderstood something I said. I believe for a moment You mistook me for someone else. You are so much more than I have a right to have. I appreciate You. You are my One.

You and I have had many conversations about fantasy v. reality. We have spoken of people who see the lifestyle and think they want it … until they get it and realize it wasn’t what they thought. This is what I was talking about this morning. You have said that You have waited for someone like me for Your whole life. To have someone who cannot get enough bondage. To have someone who has yet to find her limits in both duration and level of extreme. I am worried that You will decide the reality of me is too much work.

I am not worried that You can’t give me what I need or anything else like that. You already give me more than I could have hoped for. I could happily coast along at this level with You for the rest of Our lives. There is no doubt in my mind that if the only tools we had to work with are the ones we have already employed You could keep me guessing, tormented, ecstatic, and afraid for the duration. YOU are the critical component. Not the bondage. Not the toys. YOU.

You have said to me on more than one occasion that You are so happy I’m not a pain slut. That You don’t want a pain slut because they wear You out. As We have discovered, I am a bondage slut. I am worried that I will wear You out. That You will feel that You have to keep pushing both of Us until You can’t do it anymore. That You will be done. I need You to be happy. I need to give to You, at bare minimum, as much as I take. I’m concerned I’m taking too much. I’m concerned You will over extend Yourself because You have a misconception that I need “the next level”. The next level is a want. You are a need and a desire. There is nothing I need that You don’t already provide on a daily basis.

Today I am grateful for: Sugar
Today’s funny moment: Being a reluctant exhibitionist


One thought on “Too much?

  1. Interesting moments of clarity here. It is again about love of course. And your giving. I love reading what you write, you who are not Anastasia.

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