Safe, sane, consensual... or it once was.

Once upon a time...

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That was me.

Tall, muscular, the sort that was considered a "socially dominant male", when out with friends. Thing is, I was a remarkably happy submissive, and my Domme and I were frequently described by kink-knowledgeable friends as "one of the strongest and healthiest D/s couples they knew."

That doesn't mean everything was perfect; she had serious mobility and pain management issues. She almost always wore heavy, neoprene knee braces, walked with a cane on GOOD days, and had to resort to a wheelchair, when travelling.

There was also no possibility of children, because of the anti-inflammatories and pain-killers she took; even taking them sparingly, she would have had to be completely detoxed for a year, before even CONSIDERING pregnancy. That alone would likely have crippled her, and any weight gain due to pregnancy would definitely have done so.

The day-to-day

That was one of the MANY areas where I was important: travelling. We were part of the SCA, and would travel a couple times a year for bigger tournaments, and she would be unable to navigate completely on her own, at many of the event sites.

So, I'd frequently spend more time getting her around that socializing, or otherwise participating, but I got to get to know a lot of great people, though her. But I did miss out on a lot.

That said, meeting a lot of those people was, in and of itself, a very positive thing; regardless of the distance between us, many of them are still very close and dear friends.

And frankly, when we were home, the sex was great, I enjoyed the impact and restraint play, and she clearly enjoyed it, when she wasn't in too much pain.

Things go sideways... sort of literally.

She was fairly restricted in her fitness options, and one of the few cardio options that didn't worsen her knees was rollerblading.

So on one of her excursions, it was raining lightly, she managed to find a patch of lane-marking paint that didn't have the embedded grit in it, her foot went out. She landed on her left hip-point and fractured her femur 3" below it.

During the 5.5 weeks of traction, surgery and basic recovery, I helped set up a bed in her living room (bathroom and kitchen were on the main floor in her house), re-leveled her sidewalk for better wheelchair accessibility, and start bringing in paving blocks to extend the sidewalk to the curb.

A week before she was released, we had a talk about how between the pins and screws in her femur and the muscle damage from the break and subsequent surgery were going to make sex difficult (if not impossible) in the short term.

I assured her that I understood, and that I would be happy to wait until she was more mobile and better healed, because I found her incredibly sexy, even in a wheelchair, and was already missing the sex, after a month without. I was willing to wait, because I loved her, and wanted her to be able to enjoy our sex and play properly.

Plot twist.

A week after she was released, I managed to cut out of work early, loaded the last 2 paving blocks for the sidewalk extension and set out. I got the blocks offloaded into the front yard, and noticed the front door was open and the screen on the storm door was up.

"Hey, that's awesome! She felt well enough to get up and get the doors opened up and get some air in the house!"

Curse your sudden, but inevitable betrayal!

So I knocked and started to push the door open, and got an eyeful of her being hammered on the bed I'd help set up. Frankly, I didn't get far enough in to see who she was with, but the only thing anyone said was her screaming at me to "get the fuck out!"

Apparently, I did the one thing 99% of other people wouldn't have done: I slammed the door hard enough to rattle the china, hopped into the van and left a patch of rubber 30' in front of her house.

The rules. Or what I understood the rules to be.

We had an open relationship, but the rules were ALWAYS that we discussed one of us wanting an outside partner, there were rules...

- The person that wanted the "outside action" had to explain what they wanted that they couldn't normally have within the relationship.
- Outside partners were a once-off; you got one session, no more.
- The outside partner had to be discussed significantly before you intended to take them off and bump uglies; no wandering up while out at the bar and expecting to just randomly take some other person home.

Frankly, she asked to bring a third person home at least as frequently as I asked to have an outside encounter, solo. I only broke those rules once, within the first 6 weeks of our relationship, when we still weren't really, properly, a couple, we were still figuring out the whole "open D/s relationship" thing out; I admitted to it, was punished, and it never happened again, nor was it brought up.

So the story goes.

The next day, she calls and asks if I can come over and talk. Like a sap, I say yes; I'm still in a great deal of turmoil, and have no idea what to do, other than at least here her out.

I get there, she's on the side of the bed, and before I know it she's fellating me with more enthusiasm than I'd experience in the almost 8 years of our relationship. That was blowjob # 9 I'd received from her, to be honest.

Once that was done (it was fun, don't get me wrong), I got what little could be claimed to pass for my brain straightened up and told her how hurt I was, how I couldn't understand how she could have CLEARLY said she didn't think she could have sex a week prior, and was getting hammered, just yesterday, just 2 feet to her left.

Validation, and other words that turned out to be bullshit.

She told me that "she needed outside sexual and emotional validation" and that "she still loved me, but needed more."

I found out about a year later that "needing more" meant she'd had a 4 year affair. I found out a month ago that the total number of OTHER times she cheated is at least 6. She used protection with none of the people she was cheating with, and her affair was notoriously promiscuous, and frequently didn't use protection, either.

About a month before we broke up (a year after I caught her with "the other guy"), she flat out told me that she'd broken the explicit agreed upon rules "because she knew I was fucking anything that happened along", and never felt a need to tell me "because it was none of my fucking business."

If it ain't MY business, who's is it?

It was definitely my business. This was a woman I trusted to use restraints on me, this was a woman I had allowed to peg me, humiliate me, beat me and that I had accepted a collar from.

The week before she uncollared me, she was so out of control during impact play that she wrapped her belt around my ass and struck me in the scrotum so hard it bruised my thigh, where my balls hit.

I reached down inside, thought about how much I loved her, got up and ask my Mistress to finish what she was doing. She kept going until she strained her right shoulder, then took an anti-inflammatory and kept going with the belt in her left hand.

For those that didn't know, or were afraid to ask...

If you're in ANY kind of open, D/s, or power exchange relationship, the simple fact is, you do have a right to know about what you're partner is doing. Especially if you're fluid bonded.

You know what? Fuck it. If you're in ANY KIND of relationship, and your partner can't be safe and honest, that's a problem. If you or your partner can't handle the simple responsibilities of being honest and being safe, then the other person needs to protect themselves.

Safe, sane and consensual are the bywords of every kinky person I've ever met, and YOU need to see YOUR boundaries protected and respected, if your partner won't. If that means you end a relationship, then do it. If you can't respect your partners boundaries, then don't bitch when THEY respect and protect themselves.

Being submissive doesn't mean you're just "someones' bitch."

If your partner can't respect your boundaries, won't communicate, manipulates, abuses and takes advantage of you, they don't deserve you.

You gave power up to them, and if they exercise that power in ways that risk your emotional, sexual, physical, psychological, family or financial health, YOU need to take that power back. They clearly don't deserve it.

It's only a power exchange so long as one person gives up power to another that exercises that power; the second anyone starts feeding trust, love, respect, energy and devotion into someone that doesn't respect that submission, it's a power vacuum, and it needs to stop.

The (somewhat) happy ending.

I'm still here, still kicking, still making do. Some days suck, when my anxiety sneaks up and bites me, but I'm actually further ahead now: I have a great career path, I've started saving for things that I want, and I now know that I've 'outgrown' being a submissive.

I also figured out how NOT to treat a lover, submissive, girlfriend, or pretty much anyone. I've learned that my future as a potential Dominant is very much the same as my past:

- caring, challenging, loving and protecting a woman that is willing to trust me to actually BE as good a man as I can be.

If you have any trouble with that, feel free to find the door. ;)