The delicious state of not knowing what I want

This is the stuff of nightmares.  For me.  For a partner.  Or is it?  And is it possible to not know what you want and still end up getting exactly what you need?

I find myself in that cocoon of energy which builds around me just before I see a companion.  A few hours to go, before I slip into a final state of calm, total quiet, just before the bell rings.

Before I book to see someone, I think an awful lot about the fun things we could do together.  The stuff of fantasy.  And they are prolific.  It happens too with companions I don’t book with, but think about, and only very, very rarely end up approaching.  Sometimes they put something out there, though, which draws me across the threshold.

The other day, a dominatrix I have been following and admiring from a distance put out that she was going to be visiting the city I was about to visit, and she was looking for a slave to make her trip smooth.  I am not looking for a dominatrix. Plus, I am busy.  But something clicked inside of me, so I wrote to her.

The thought of two dommes working in the same city—I am shooting lascivious content, she is travelling with a sub, later meeting up for the purposes of one domme to take the knee, me, is kind of hot.  I love being a domme who submits.  I can’t help it.  That’s what women I like do to me.

We didn’t manage to make it work, but her assistant connected me instantly to a future booking.  And boy did I love the presence of an assistant.  This domme could just be someone I see once and never again—that happens.  They can be so great at what they do, but if the chemistry isn’t there…

I went on a girl’s weekend with a woman I am sweet on.  She asked me out.  So fresh and new.  We went to a spa and just relaxed and talked and slept in the same bed.  This isn’t something I am used to with a woman who is just a friend.

She’s a domme but that isn’t how we met.  We have, however, been double domming together several times on the play party and club scene.  We work really well together.  She’s beautiful and also really clear on how she expects a grovelling man to treat her.  I can tune into that and help educate them.  Which I love to do with the whip or some other tool, delivering boys to her feet, suitably chastened and in the right mindset.

I am sweet on her.  Crushing.  This isn’t the safe zone of friendship.  And I am not sure about where we stand.  She knows that I am a sub at heart.  She began to inject language into our dynamic which is confusing to me.  She calls me ‘good puppy’ when I do things she likes.  And she does try to modify my behaviour with language.  This is not non-consensual, as it is always in areas that we talk about, and that I might struggle with.

I shared with her that I had approached this particular domme, and she noted that she admired her too.  But she told me that I had enough on my plate, that I already had a domme, have a companion, and a few others I have already approached and am working through the booking process with…she was right to tell me to stand her down.

So, I did.  And I am slightly proud that I did.  Subs and clients take note: I paid her anyway, and paid without a peep, apologized, and told her that if I was in a place in the future where I could commit and follow-through, that I would be honoured to be permitted to start again from scratch.  She wrote me a wonderfully kind message.

It would have been a disaster to see her.  She knows everyone I know.  She asks for a different relationship.  Much deeper.  I know I want this kind of relationship.  But as my budding young domme friend said, “sort your own life out first.  You have too much chaos.  And once you are sorted and solid, then you can go and cause chaos.  Understood?”

“Yes.”

“Good puppy.”

And so, there we have it.  I just don’t know whether I should tell her that I’m a kitten, not a puppy.