The Cup

More from Fetlife…

Part 1 of a 2 parter…

The Cup

For the last 35 days… my domly one has been on SL only once. And he’s texted me maybe four times, and Coyote twice cause he couldn’t text me.

I have been texting him almost daily. There were a couple of days I didn’t, and I haven’t since yesterday, when I said to him, “I still love you. I still want you, but this is goodbye.”

See, I had no clue where he was, what he was doing, if he was alive or not, and if he was alive, if he was at home. I heard from his mother, and then him, last week that he was in the hospital with a “bad reaction” to his medicine. Okay, I can believe that. If I eat blue cheese or take penicillin based medicines, I end up in anaphalaxis. Other meds work opposite of how they should work with me.

Without a word from him, the spot in my mind that represents his dominance over me, his presence in my life, was emptying fast. I see my submission as a cup and I offered it up to be filled with his dominance, visually, a liquid of some sort. Sometimes, sweet, other times tart, sometimes alcoholic even. When he was around almost all the time, the cup kept full.

Then he started to not come online as often, or worse, it would be days, and then weeks, between his visits. I wouldn’t even get a text from him either. It was silence.

Every day that went by, I kept on being his good girl, doing what I was doing, keeping things going, doing more than my fair share of making sure all those who call either of us by bdsm titles happy. The longer he was gone, the lower the level in the cup became. He would come back, and fill it just enough to last a bit longer, and then be gone again.

It’s as if I was addicted to his presence. Maybe I am. I’d rather be addicted to a person than to a substance.

The cup sprang a leak. And then another. Now, when I look at it, not only is the cup empty, there’s no way it can hold anything he gives me to reassure me that I’m his.

He just hasn’t been here.

I’m not asking for him to be on SL every day. A text a day. That was all I’ve ever asked for. It doesn’t have to be on the phone, it can be through facebook, or Skype, or some other way, even here on Fetlife. I checked every single place every day for weeks, hoping there’d be a message and there wouldn’t be.

I have been writing a story, and I needed a paragraph from him from something he understood and I was trying to incorporate properly, and he never gave it to me.

The cup is empty and so full of holes that even other doms who have tried to take his place and help me through have given up because there’s nothing there for me to give them in submission. That’s how damaged I am.

He has been on once or twice since the SL pixel “rape” that happened about two months ago. He hasn’t been here to help me heal from it. To soothe the fact that I don’t want anyone to touch me, not even to cuddle, not really. Not even his effigy we made. I want him.

Another day goes by and he’s not on and the part of me that loved being of service shrinks away more.

It doesn’t help that I have been repeatedly told that he’s abusing me. There was a theory that if if his other girl before me was treated the same way as he has treated me, it would explain why she left him. He might not be blatantly abusing me, but the end result is the same: neglect and abandonment. The accusations of him being a relapsed druggie also flew. I couldn’t defend him against a woman who sees abuse everywhere. I tried and I all but got backhanded over trying to defend him. I got told to shut up about him or leave him. I haven’t talked to her since.

15 days since his last visit. 18 days from the one before that. I should have kept track better to use it as evidence. Including when he texted me. I hate not hearing his voice, even in text.

Every day that goes by, is another day without him, without feeling his love and protection. Without his encouragement to be little. Without his wit, his charm, his Doric tones, his smile, his prankster… his absence kills that part of me even more inside. I didn’t even get real time in his arms, even though he was on skype with me during his last visit to SL. Coyote got that. I was being forced to be a statue while he entertained a new friend of Coyote’s.

I now know I needed those arms more than I realized.

I feel so stupidly foolish for calling up his skype and not seeing anything, believing he was just sleeping, when he was at his relative’s place these last few days. Why didn’t he tell me, even through Coyote?

I’m so broken, no one is going to want to pick up the pieces. I’m going to have to do it myself.

So, I unpartnered him, blocked him on skype, emptied out the DJ group I started for him, and left it – it should dissolve away in a day or so. I moved him to “acquaintance” with my friends’ list on facebook, and even unlieged to him. The hardest wasn’t taking my collar and removing him from it, it was removing my links to him on his profile here. His number is muted on my phone. I won’t see a text come in. Everything I have written about him in my profile here and on SL are now written in the past.

I’m alone. Yes, Coyote is at my side, but she isn’t what I need.

I needed him.

Instead, I got emptiness.

It might not have been active and blatant abuse, but the end result is the same. I am broken inside.

One can not satiate their thirst on a vacuum, nor drink from a shattered vessel.

So, I picked up a thread and I started to knit again. One stitch at a time. Knitting soothes. It’s helped before. It should help again.

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