A Name From Days Gone By

Twelve years later, my old self came calling.

By and large and save for a recent tragic loss, the past few days have been pretty uneventful. I’ve been getting into (or at least trying to get into) my new routine, spending my three hours per day tinkering about on my blog and then spending a bit more than that working around the home. After my meal out on Sunday, I’m slowly but surely pulling the home up together. 7am starts though? Forget ’em.

This afternoon I had plans to organise our garden shed. It’s a fairly small shed, only two by two metres, but it’s kitted out with enough shelving to make up the floor space by at least double. The shelves hold everything, from the bulk buy cleaning products (it’s not hoarding, it’s a preventative measure) to bottles of Shloer (non-alcoholic “wine” for the drivers) and crates full of Christmas decorations. I think the lid has come off of a cinnamon jar candle somewhere because in the warm spring sun, the whole space smells distinctly Atomic Fireball. Alas, the weather can’t seem to decide if we’re having spring sun or wintery blizzards today and so I’m taking refuge indoors until Mother Nature calms down.

Yesterday, I did my three hours on my blog and settled on “messy nugs” for lunch. In case you’re wondering, messy nugs are a dish that I came up with and are vegetarian, simple and delightfully messy. I suppose that you could use chicken nuggets, but I personally prefer to air fry myself some Quorn nuggets, toss them in a bowl, give them a good swirl of barbeque sauce and top off with some grated cheddar cheese. It’s not something that I do very often, but sometimes the simple things really are the best.

It was just as I sat down on the sofa that the message appeared on my phone. It was Andy, but not the Andy that I usually talk about on my blog.

It was the other Andy – my former submissive.

Andy and I were friends for many months but we parted on not exactly amicable terms. Andy was in a bad place mentally and he wanted to go travelling to ‘forget about things, including us’. I remember being out walking with my family when I got the news, and I remember taking it quite badly.

Even if I was seemingly cold and uncaring towards Andy at times, in truth, I actually cared about him quite deeply. Nothing I ever did to Andy was about causing him harm or not believing that he was worth something, it was all tailored entirely to what he wanted from me. I knew how to push Andy, where to push and I worked out the sorts of things that I thought he might be interested in. I took pride in Andy. In a world full of compliant and obedient submissives, Andy was a challenge. My challenge.

So when Andy wanted to cool things off all of a sudden, it really hit me.

Was it me? Did I do something wrong? Had I gone too far?

I think I went through all of the questions and the depression that a Dominant might go through when a submissive partner suddenly asks to be released. It hit me so hard, I didn’t know if I could bear to go through it ever again.

After Andy, I gave myself in to becoming ‘just’ a submissive. It was something that my inner switch struggled with at first, but it became easier as time went on. I didn’t have to be compliant, I didn’t have to be obedient. I could just be me.

I discovered that I am a brat, a SAM (Smart-Assed Masochist) and an all-round alpha submissive. More than that, I realised that I may have just been a “service Top” all along.

I can remember you at SWAMP cuffed up with confidence, I could never do that!!

True to form, that was me. I’d keep my head up, I’d make eye contact with others and I’d smile casually at people, even while in chains. I am defiant until the very end, me.

I suppose really, my defiance had always been something of a test, and the Captain himself is aware of this. Sometimes I push because some people will bend and buckle, and still other people push back. It makes for good business, and it made for good fun in finding the right Dominant partner for me. Sure, I am a submissive, and many would probably think that if you take one from pile A and one from pile B, they’d be a match. It’s never that straight forward though, and when I finally find myself someone that can push back against me without being a complete asshole, that’s when the real magic happens.

Okay, so “complete asshole” is kind of fun sometimes, as is “sadistic fucking asshole” as a term of endearment. They’re kind of my favourite types in fact, I think.

I digress of course.

That Andy holds me accountable for some of the kinks that he still has today, and even had such good things to say of me after all of this time, I found quite endearing in a way. I won’t go into his kinks, I promised that I wouldn’t, but they are oriented around humiliation. Granted, I do still smile when I think back to it – mind fucking someone is always fun, as long as it’s all consensual.

Psychology ๐Ÿ˜‰ , I reminded Andy.

Psychology is a strong suit of mine, and I make no qualms in it being a part of much of what I do. I use psychology for good and for helping people, of course I do, but I used to use it for not-quite-so-good too. A different kind of therapy then, I suppose.

As it happens, I also make no bones about having used classical conditioning on my then-to-be husband by combining sex with a bottle of perfume, which I then proceeded to wear for everything from hot dates to grocery shops. I’m not allowed to wear that perfume anymore, which is a shame because I happen to be quite a fan. I forget why though, of course.

A dangerous woman after all, then? Perhaps.

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