I wake crying (yup, it’s emo-Amanda again). Not an uncommon occurence for some people, but this time it’s different. Waking in tears because of physical pain is one thing, a very normal thing for me, just another part of another day. But for once the tears have nothing what-so-ever to do with my body. They are purely to do with my heart.
Right now I have a wonderful Miss. One part of my nature fulfilled by spending my days, and nights trying to make her smile. Though admittedly usually with the result of annoyed grimaces, rather than happy smiles. But it’s the thought that counts surely?
I think I might have a boyfriend. I hope I might have a boyfriend…ummm well anyway, I’m dating a boy. And to my joyful surprise being around him makes me happy. Makes me feel wanted, and attractive.
But it’s not those parts that make we wake with tears soaking my pillow. Those parts fill me with joy, and make my world sparkle. No it’s the part of me that is at the very core of who, and what I am that has the broken heart. And worse a break that can’t be fixed by me.
I miss being a Miss.
I miss it so much that it hurts like a physical pain.
I don’t miss “playing”. BDSM isn’t a game to me.
I don’t miss being able to say “this is my Slavegirl…”. Being a Miss to someone is my deepest personal life, something shared with those I love most in the world, and those rare people who understand what it truly means.
No I miss being needed, wanted as a Dominant.
I miss having someone I adore, who adores me in that unique way that only occurs between Domme and Sub.
I miss having to read the needs of someone who, by their own will I possess physically, and emotionally.
I miss having the duty to use that “read” to help them excel in their lives. The way my Miss helps me.
I miss being their sword and shield. The one they turn to for protection.
I miss being the arms that hold them when they fear, rewards them when through exceptional hard work they succeed beyond all expectations, and punishes them when they deserve it.
I miss being taken care of by someone with soft, submissive loving eyes when I need to be.
I miss taking care of them, because nothing matters more to me than their well-being.
I’m a Dominant without a heart to possessively hold in my hands. Without a leash that rests lightly in my grip.
In short I’m just a girl with a really weird skill-set. Not a Miss. Not a Domina. Not a Mistress. Just a girl who has only just realised that every night for a year her last thought has been a whispered prayer to her Goddess. Just asking for a little help to find the little one who might mean she can again be called a Miss. Because frankly that’s the most loving, highest calling she can ever imagine living.
My Random Ruminations. 