old fashion dagger stained with blood on red silky sheet
Experiences,  kinks,  Learning the Hard Way,  Masturbation Monday,  Relationship Thoughts Old and New,  Sir/Daddy,  Thoughts,  Toy for Sir,  Trust


I swore I wasn’t going to write about you anymore.  I closed the door and locked it securely – or so I thought.  But today, today hit me in the heart like a dagger.  A feeling I thought I would never experience again.  Sadly, I was wrong once again.   Apparently, I will never be able to forget the experience of this dagger.  The unseen sharpness that slices through my skin with invisibility, piercing my heart with expert precise movement, never failing to hit its mark.

This dagger is elusive, sneaky, stealthy.  The moment I think I have buried it, lost it, destroyed it, it returns to me out of nowhere.  Today was one of those moments.  I had a strange feeling all day.  I didn’t really pay attention to it, but it was there under the surface.  The morning went fine.  I was at work passing time until the 1:00 meeting.  This meeting would be heavily attended, very high profile.  Maybe that was the nagging feeling I had.  so I pushed it away.  Until I walked in the door.  There you were.  Standing in the corner of the room.  Standing with her, of course, had I expected anything at all, I would have also expected she would be at your side.

Even though I tried to look down and away, I could see you.  My mind pictures you without you there so why should today be any different.  The dagger point pierced my heart just a little bit.  I felt it.  It wasn’t harsh but it was noticeable.  I resisted the urge to reach for my heart, thankful for the coffee in my hand.

As was necessary for work, I headed your way.  Approaching you was more difficult than anyone could imagine.  I wish anyone in the room could have known how brave I was at that moment.  Before getting close enough to catch your eye, I realized immediately something was wrong.  The dagger, again, let me know its presence.  There is something between us.  No matter how hard I try to let it go it will always be there.  I still don’t know if this connection makes me feel special for you, or just makes me feel sad.

The eyes meet.  Our eyes.  Yes.  I noticed.  We both looked and then looked away.  As if looking away could stop the electricity that we both felt.  Maybe it was electricity.  Maybe it was regret.  Perhaps it was disinterest on your part and you were just distracted by whatever was bothering you.  I wasn’t given enough time to process any of it before I realized the others were there.  In the mingling of the people there for the meeting were my co-workers.  Looking at them I realized the triangle, or whatever we had, was present in my space.  One of your primaries, smiling ear to ear at my discomfort.  The one that betrayed me to you, standing next to me like we were still friends.  Then the others that know of our “friendships” end, watching to see how the show will unfold.

Perhaps this was my perception but it didn’t matter where the truth of my feelings laid.  If our end has taught me anything it has taught me to allow myself to feel how I feel.  Sitting in the room with all the noise of people talking and laughing.  It wasn’t lost on me watching what was unfolding.  My superpower… to smile through everything regardless of how hard it is.  I was smiling.  I was interacting.  Still watching your every move.

You were handling the issue and my body betrayed me as it always does when you are around.   I didn’t want this response that my body was showing me.  Thankful no one else could see my discomfort.  They couldn’t know the wetness I felt between my thighs.  They couldn’t hear my heart beating faster.  Your sex, your character, your body language, all of it.  My body was reacting and as much as I fought it, I loved feeling those things I had missed so much for this past year.

Your problem solved and the meeting begins.  Your primary, little cunt that she is, sits next to me.  She smiles.  She whispers in my ear little comments about the room and the people there.  I smile and respond as always.  Like a good co-worker would.  Every nerve ending was screaming.  Burning.  Searing my skin like a lit cigarette.  Does she ever think about our time together?  Our threesomes?  Our road trips?  Those times when she didn’t want your cock.  She would rather sleep, read, and on the really good days, watch us fuck.  Does it even matter if she does or doesn’t?

The one who betrayed me, and you, if you cared to know the truth staring sideways and pretending to not care I was there.  I could see her looking at me.  Again, why do I care about this childish girl who cares about nothing but gossipping and ruining others lives?  Dramatic?  Possibly.  I deserve to be a little dramatic though don’t I Sir?  Don’t I Daddy?  I suppose I don’t have the right to use that name for you any longer.  Much as you no longer have the right to call me Toy.  That much I suppose we could agree on.

This meeting seems eternal.  Everyone in the circle communicating in our secret code.   I am grateful when the gentleman comes from behind me to ask me a question.  Grateful for the distraction and that I was the one that he picked me to interrupt.  Perhaps he saw my discomfort?  Maybe I was just lucky in that one moment of insanity that didn’t seem to have an end.  I answered his question, smiled.  Leaned into him to hear him more clearly.  You always hated it when I was nice to other men.  It bothered you how I always say hello to other men.

After I finished the conversation I turned and sat down.  Yes, I saw you watching me.  But I felt you watching me before I ever turned back to the dreaded circle of betrayal.  I sit, cross my legs, tuck my hair behind my ear (The way you taught me) and smile at someone that felt safe, avoiding your stair.  Did you notice I changed my hair color?  That blonde you wanted and that I worked hard to achieve, now a warmer darker blonde.  No more “slut blonde” as you labeled it.  did you notice?  I should have felt some small morsel of satisfaction, revenge, taunt.  Could changing my hair color send you a private message?  All I felt was the dagger’s presence.  Hurting you always hurt me worse whether it was accidental or not.  I enjoyed the pain from your hands.  Pain from this dagger is unbearable.

You are chatting in code and I pay attention as you taught me to do.  The dagger reminds me to be cautious.  It isn’t clear if your comments are to me or to your primary sitting next to me.  Of course, that would be it, right?  Why would you speak to me anyway?  You are done with me, correct?

The meeting ends and I am blissfully on my way out of the room.  Caught in the traffic of the crowd exiting the room I try to get someplace safe quickly.  My goal is to put as much space and distance between us as I can.  Stalled by the casual conversation about weather and work and I am screaming inside, trapped in this hell.  If I can just make it to the bathroom I may be able to breathe again.

I realize I am staring at my feet.  You hated it when I did that.  I look up reactively and fix my gaze ahead willing the crowd to move out of my way. Then I feel it.  The dagger again.  What the fuck!  Just leave me alone and allow me to get to a place where I can give the dagger’s sharp piercings the attention they obviously feel they deserve.  I thought it was over and I thought I was escaping.  Then I realized you were close.  I felt your presence.  Perhaps the sharp prickling of the dagger is a warning this time.  I felt your sights on me.  Fuck all!  Why can’t I just get a break!

I turn slightly to the right and there you are.  Surrounded by your harem.  Primary in front so you can watch and protect her.  Betrayer behind you smug and smirking.  You in the middle of your admirers.  Then you look at me.  Eye to eye.  You were brazen about it which wasn’t your normal of late.  Then in our code, you tell me I did a good job in the meeting.  You repeat it “good job.”  My eyes saw your lips form “good job” but my head and heart heard “good girl.”  You didn’t use your voice but it was in my ears, my heart, my dreams, my memory.  I know that isn’t what you said, but my longing to hear those words again was so strong, my virtual universe made it so.

There is the dagger.  Its sharp point had been playing with my heart for the past two hours.  Pricking lightly at the surface tissue of my heart.  Teasing, sticking, slowly, precisely, and then, finally with the imagined words “good girl”, it thrust itself deep into my heart and twisted back and forth to remind just how real it was.   The slices in my heart allowed the emotions to flow like blood from the wound.  My body again betrayed me.  The pain from the dagger was unbearable but the excitement I felt from hearing those words, even in my imagination with you in front of me, made me long for you.  Long for you and your touch and your voice and your heat and your smell.  As you continued to move away from me and I was left standing alone in the crowd of strangers, unaware of the assault I was enduring, I felt the wetness dripping from my cunt as only you can make happen.

I swallow hard all the emotions and tears fighting to get to the surface and be released into the reality I was standing in.  I win this fight.  I find the closest bathroom to duck into and dart to the stall before I lose strength and the tears and emotions claim their victory.  Sobbing and gasping for air I silently scream at you.  Do you have any idea what you did to me?  What you continue to do to me?  Did you mean to throw me back to the place that was so dark I was afraid I would never see light again?  My body is trembling.  Sweat is seeping from my pores.  My make up is melting and falling into the streams of my tears.

Enclosed in this small cage I feel it spinning.  Leaning against the cold stall wall I hope for calm and clarity.  Unconsciously, I reach between my thighs and feel the dampness of my body’s betrayal.  I cup my cunt over my clothes and apply pressure as if trying to push the betrayal back inside my body.  My other hand dives into my pants to find my clit.  Images of you flash through my brain.  Today, a year ago, two, three, four years ago when a simple look and smile from you would do this to me.  One carefully placed finger and pressure on my clit brings a release I didn’t plan on or even want.  I accept it.  Still sobbing, now for multiple reasons, I lean against the cold stall wall harder.  Pressing my forehead and cheeks against the cold aluminum wall, willing it to lower my temperature.  It is the only thing stopping me from hitting the floor.

One day.  One day I will recover from you.  One day I will sit across the table from you and not respond to you.  I will put the Toy you made away.  I will lock that part of Toy away with the dagger and become strong enough to fight you when you seep into my soul. Not today, but one day.

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