You want complete honesty from me, and we both know the only way you will get it is in writing.
Last night, when I read your letter to her, and her response, it created a visceral explosion in my chest, dropping a weight into my stomach that turned and wrenched and hardened.
You are not an adulterer. You are trustworthy. You are patient. You are mine.
You (and I) want all contact to be transparent...but I was unprepared. Your words..."If you want me to be your Sir, I am game."
I took it two ways...you are game - if only your wife would sign on (yes, I know none of this is rational, but please hear me out). I am the touchy variable. I am the only thing holding this back. Which is completely true. But what happened, so immediately and violently in my brain, as my face became hot, and my hearing became fuzzy, was wicked jealousy...of a type I did not know I was capable. I could physically feel my pupils swell and my breath catch. It was a strong reaction to a small statement with so many intense and complex implications.
You are my Sir.
And then there was her response. "I so intensely want you to be my Sir....I am afraid I will become attached...need more than you can give..."
I could not even finish reading. I felt as if the wind had been knocked out of me, and I left your side, needing instant separation from the words...and you. I wanted to lash out like a child, throw something, hit you. Anything to expel the poison in my stomach.
You, in your patience and wisdom, brought me back to the surface, sat me beside you and sucked it out of me with your questions, and diligence, and intimate knowledge of how I hold and share my truth.
I cried, purging the poisoned emotions onto your chest. You asked me what emotions I was feeling, and I admitted everything, in a deluge.
Fear. Fear of losing my heaven, my stability, my sanity, my tenuous hold on the world around me. And all of that attaches to you.
Jealousy. Because I cannot be everything. Because I do not want her to have any piece of your heart. I do not mind sharing your body...your mind...but...
Your heart is mine.
Anger. That you had contacted her in the first place. Anger that I am having so much trouble accepting something that you obviously want so much and about which you are being so open and honest and patient. Anger that I cannot openly (if at all) give you the freedom you so obviously deserve...a freedom you would so readily extend to me - because you trust me implicitly. I wish I could do the same.
Guilt. That I am not bigger than this. That I am not more gracious. More rational. That I might hurt her. She did not sign on for this...she requested a dominant...a single man....She did not bargain for a crazy, emotional, irrational wife who cannot say yes, but is scared to say no. And now we have sucked her into a spinning black hole of my insecurities.
Worry. That you will resent me if I say no. That I will resent you if I say okay.
And fierce, inexplicable love, need, desire.
You are my addiction - the very air that I breathe - and when something threatens (even if just in my head) my full and constant access to the drug that you provide...the drug that keeps me from falling apart...that keeps me closer to sane...closer to whole...when something threatens that - I am like an addict, in a dark room, terrified and broken, unable to cope.
You have asked me to dig deep within myself. To find the words and write them. To explain why I am so uncomfortable saying yes...and why the word no catches in my throat, choking me, silencing me.
I can admit that I have so many conflicting emotions at war in my head right now, that I am not sure if anything that comes out of my mouth is really true or not. The moment I say it, it is. But, an hour later, it might not be. I am turbulent inside...a violent and unpredictable storm that calms periodically to prepare for the next onslaught.
In my moments of calm, there is a horizon of clarity...far off, but visible enough to make out the silhouette of truth. In those moments, this is what I see.
Metaphorically, I am a feral cat when it comes to change. It may take weeks, much patience, and just the right motivation to coax me out from under the porch. I do not know where my suspicion and mistrust of the new comes from, other than that I was raised to feel that way. And like a feral cat, if you press too hard, too quickly, I may never come...or you may have to start from scratch...encouraging me, and giving me time.
But, is this really fair...to her? To be stuck waiting to see if I will or will not be able to accept the offering in your hand, to come close enough to take it, and stay still enough, long enough for you to reach out and touch me?
And then....I suppose I have to think about what is fair to me.
I am yours. Yours completely. I am only just learning to serve you in the best way - to submit to your requests - to be the submissive we both want me to be. This is all still so new...and now you are asking that I share your dominance with someone else? I have only just begun to call you Sir, and now another's lips are to utter the same intimate term?
I know that your dominance runs deep and that possibly my lack of instant, utter and complete submission is disappointing...but I am willing - willing to kneel at your feet - willing to allow you control.
I know you want more than that. And that, in many ways, you do not want that kind of submission from me...you speak of me as your "alpha" female - submissive to you but more equal than another submissive might be - who would also need to be submissive to me.
But, I do not want the responsibility of another submissive, when I do not yet completely understand my own submission.
I am terrified of losing something - something elusive - something net even yet named or explored.
And with that...I think I have come to the conclusion that I am not ready to allow another woman to be your submissive.
It does not mean I will never be. It means that I am not ready for it now.
Right now, I need you to be my Sir. I need you to guide me through this. I need to be yours - in every intimate way...even and especially the ways that make me the most uncomfortable. I need to be splayed on the alter and pushed to the point of shuddering and tears.
I need to feel your strength and the stability of what you offer with such resounding faith that accepting the entrance of another female could not and would not shake it.
And while I am sorry that you may be disappointed with this, I am not ready to have you be the kind of Sir to her that she needs...mostly because I need you to be more of a Sir to me first.
That realization is a bit freeing to me. It has lightened the load I have been bearing. I think I understand what I need from you, what I want from you. But, I will need your full and undivided attention in this.
She will have to wait.