One slave, returned. Did not meet product specifications.

Warning: Read product description thoroughly before making your purchase. Never make assumptions that go beyond the specs.

 

He told me that.

Over and over.

Never make assumptions.
And yet, he did.

Over and over.

 

He had this idea of who I was, of what I was, of what I could be, of what I should be, and then would get angry when I didn’t live up to expectations. He had a plan, a training strategy, which more often than not didn’t work as much due to his distraction as it was to my disobedience or inadequate performance.

 

Again and again, I was a disappointment. 

 

And after numerous ruptures, numerous resets, numerous attempts on my part to get away, he finally said enough. He was ridding his life of things that didn’t give him pleasure, and I was now one of those things.

 

I did not protest.

I was frankly relieved.

He would never let me go if it wasn’t by HIS choice.

I was never quite sure what he thought I was.

What he was convinced I was.

 

There was something he saw in my old profile on Fetlife that made him pursue me for a week, announcing to his masochist slave that he would have me in a week. And that he did. But I think he thought I could be trained into perfect obedience. And it both angered and, I think, wounded him when I resisted. He thought he’d found some treasure, but he hadn’t read the fine print.

 

And yet he couldn’t stay away.

Then again, neither could I.

On and off for 12 years.

So here I am.

But where, exactly?

 

He wasn’t all wrong.

Nor was I wrong about my desires.

And those haven’t gone away.

The question is what to do about them.
The question is what path to follow.

The question is how to be true to myself.

And who is that, anyway?

Given my age, I’d better get down to finding out.