I snuggled up to TSH this morning, in a very specific way. It’s the position I adopt when I feel little and vulnerable and need to feel protected.
I shunted myself down the bed and leant into him, my head resting just on his chest, so his heartbeat was loud in my ear. I wrapped my thigh over his and slung my arm loosely into a comfortable position. Bearing in mind I’d spent half the night awake, I went straight off to sleep. I snoozed while he stroked my hair with idle, random movements and every so often, kissed my head or my forehead and pulled me closer in.
He massaged my neck and shoulders, and down my back, his grip firm yet gentle. Enough to make me purr, but not enough to rouse me. I purred louder when he planted open-mouthed kisses on my collarbone.
“You okay there, little Kitty?” he asked. And there it was. Full of bitter sweetness.
We’ve tried and failed to maintain different D/s dynamics and have accepted that’s not us, but right now, it feels very painful. We’ve done, and I’ve done, so much adulting since March. Legal paperwork for various things, negotiating our relationship for ourselves, working out how to do polyamory… it’s been a non-stop conveyor belt of everything. And it’s only just slowing down.
I can adult. But at the moment, I just want someone to look after me.
I’m not a little per se, and if I did have to tell you an age, it’d be sulky teenager, perhaps thirteen, which allows for my inner brat, too. But my littler side comes out most when I feel overwhelmed and out of control. When I need someone to make a few decisions and put some boundaries in place. It makes me feel loved and wanted and needed, and takes the pressure off to help me reground myself.
TSH and I do manage some things in a kind-of dynamic. Like, if we’re eating out, I’ll whittle my menu choices down but if I can’t make a final decision, I’ll tell him what I’m deciding between and let him tell me. He knows he’s choosing something I want to eat and I can relax that the decision is made.
But I’m used to having to speak on both of our behalves. When he’s feeling particularly introverted, or is tired so his hearing craps out, I end up doing the talking and the decision making. I want someone who can do that for me, once in a while.
Right now, I want someone who’ll stroke my hair and call me ‘little Kitty’ or ‘little girl’, who’ll indulge me a small amount until I can regroup. I want to release my sillier, less serious self as it’s bubbling away inside, but everything does feel far too serious right now so it stays hidden.
I want to be the me that for a couple of hours last weekend had great fun in collecting all the stamps on the children’s activity card at the London Transport Museum. Or who was dancing around the hotel room, giggling away, for no good reason. But for it to last.
I want to free my head again.
And reading blogs like (off the top of my head, as there are many, many others) 3isright, Cara Thereon’s and Kayla Lords’, or watching videos like John Brownstone’s just makes me yearn for this thing I don’t have. I’m not sure quite what I want, I just know I don’t have it.
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